Bowman scoffed and his wings twitched. He turned away from Jacob in time to see another Sam approaching. Even with the Lounge working its strange effects on his mind to make everything seem okay, Bowman was stubborn. “This is really weird,” he commented, looking between the two Sams. “Do you know how to swordfight? What if a possum pokes around?”

The Sam that had just arrived arched an eyebrow, exchanging a look with his doppelgänger. “Most humans don’t swordfight,” Sam explained, putting his hand in his jacket. He withdrew his knife.

Spritely Sam looked it over approvingly, then pulled out his own. “The knights all use swords,” he told Sam. “Scar trained me himself when I was just a kid.” His cheeks turned red. “He caught me playing around with the weapons, trying them out.”

Dean chuckled. “No matter where you are, it’s hard to keep you out of trouble,” he said fondly.

“Look who’s talking,” his Sam countered.

Bowman smirked, but couldn’t tease his own Sam about it without inviting it back on himself. They both had a knack for finding trouble right at its source. They’d found their Jacob in the most touch-and-go first meeting they could have managed. “Well, he’s way stronger than anyone else in Wellwood, so I think Scar would have taken him on even without catching him messing with swords,” he pointed out. “Blasted strength can even keep me from flying off.”  To punctuate the complaint, he nudged at Sam with the edge of his wing.

While the banter moved back and forth up on the table, a small figure made his way towards them down on the ground. The Lounge’s smallest occupant, Oscar had a lot of ground to cover if he wanted to go meet the newcomers.

Luckily, the bartender always seemed to make sure no one was in danger. Oscar could walk right up to Dean’s boot without worry. “Um. Dean?” he called up, as loudly as he could. He even tugged lightly at a shoelace. “Can I come up and see?”

It wasn’t the voice, but the tugs that let Dean know Oscar was there. He glanced down, feeling a slight bit of vertigo when he saw Oscar standing all the way down by his boot. Even more than when Sam was on the ground, Oscar gave Dean the feeling that he was a building.

Shifting his boot away from Oscar, careful not to tug the kid off his feet, Dean knelt down and gently scooped him into a hand with a light finger. “Wait until you see these two,” he chuckled, ruffling Oscar’s hair. “I might even have to pry the other kids off the arcade machines.”

Lowering his hand right next to Sam, Dean let Oscar slide right off, barely waist-high next to his little brother. “I’m gonna go grab some drinks for everyone, any requests?” he said, pushing himself up and looking at Bowman. Everyone else, he had memorized. Spritely Sam was still Sam at his core.

Bowman was almost distracted by the young nestling-sized kid staring at him with wide eyes. He did a double take, and then decided he would challenge the skills of whoever was making the drinks. This was no Wellwood, after all. “Pine tea, if they have it,” he replied with a smirk. “If not, water would do.”

The next time he glanced down, Oscar had wandered closer to him and Sam. The vibrant greens of their clothes was a stark contrast to his own drab greys.

Oscar straightened when he saw Bowman looking at him just as curiously. “Um. I’m Oscar, and I live in a motel. When I’m not here, I mean. This place is better.”

Dean left with the attention on Oscar, leaving the others and the newest Jacob alone.