Yeah, poor Stan when Dean thinks he’s a fae! The lil guy definitely has no hidden pots of gold, and really doesn’t appreciate the Winchesters running their tests on him to see what sort of supernatural creature he is.

Stan barely had time to curl into a ball and fret about what was going to happen to him before gravity shifted around him and the fingers keeping him trapped unfurled, leaving the little guy sprawled on his palm. He scrambled to sit up, freezing again under the gazes of two unknown humans now.

Sam stared as Dean opened his hand, revealing the tiny figure in the center of his palm. “Found ‘im when the witch tossed me,” Dean said, a trace of satisfaction slipping into his voice as he remembered the quick thinking reactions that had lead to the tiny guy’s capture. “Whatcha think he is? Some kind of leprechaun?” Shifting one of the fingers close to Stan, Dean lightly nudged the shock of red hair. “Maybe the witch made a deal with the fae…”