“Do you really think we should leave the Impala here with the truck?” Sam asked in concern, his brow furrowed. “It’s a dead giveaway if they do find the truck, and we won’t be anywhere close to stop them from towing her.”
“Dean… thanks,” Jacob cut in, before the conversation could steer any further away. He wanted to make sure that the brothers knew how much it meant that they were so willing to help him, despite the trouble it might bring to them. Trouble like someone connecting their car to the truck burglary.
The car, at least, was something Jacob could possibly help with.
“If you don’t want to leave your car where it’s hard to get to…”
(Thank you so much! And yes, I am taking prompts, whether they be from this post or general prompty goodness. I tend to do better with more open prompts, of course.)
Sleeping. For this one, Jacob Andris and Bowman Leafwing claimed the story.
It is Fairy Tales canon, though I haven’t really set a time for it. Most likely this is the summer after the events of Bowman of Wellwood.
Jacob was so absorbed in finishing up his homework, he didn’t notice the quiet at first. Out in Wellwood, in the clearing that the wood sprites had dubbed ‘his’, the wind whispered peacefully in the trees. The sky was an even mix of pale blue and the fluffy gray-white of the clouds scattered about.
The forest, private land with a fence to keep most people out, was an idyllic place far removed from the rest of the world. Jacob hardly had any bars on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d brought his homework out to try to get something done while he was relaxing out there.
However, there was usually a voice chattering away, either asking questions or telling stories of his own. Bowman Leafwing, Jacob’s best friend, was not a shy wood sprite by any stretch of the imagination.
This is Fairy Tales canon. Bowman is newly 19, and it takes place the winter after the events of Bowman of Wellwood.
Reading Time: ~5-10 minutes
The main room was cozy and warm. Candara had Prayed all morning to bring warmth coursing through their home branch, and the Earth Spirit’s magic granted them a warmer home despite the bitter cold outside. The breeze leaking through the shaded windows promised that stepping outside would require several layers.
Bowman was restless as he was every winter, but he didn’t feel like going out just yet. In the deadest part of winter, his wings twitched with shivers and the desire to fly both. Today, he remained inside with the others to avoid that chill.
Candara and Larxe sat together on one of the cushioned benches in the room, their wings around each other like leafy green cloaks. Candara rested her head on Larxe’s chest, tired out after Praying for so much warmth. Bowman sat by the wall and let the heat creep up his spine and into his folded wings. His right leg was drawn up, but the left one stretched out in front of him. He stared at it absently.
Rischa wandered over to him to sit down at his side. Bowman lifted an arm so his young cousin could snuggle closer to him with her blanket over her shoulders. “It’s hurting again,” she noted, glancing at Bowman’s leg.
It had healed months ago. And yet, sometimes, Bowman’s knee would have phantom pains in it from when he’d injured it. Those pains, Cerul had told him, would never go away completely. Too much strain on it, or even sometimes just the cold that came with the snowy weather would make the old wound site tender and sore.
He would always have the reminder of a human hand closing over his body and slowly applying pressure until he couldn’t even scream for mercy.
Rischa suddenly freed her arms from her blanket to hug Bowman around his waist and he jolted right out of his thoughts. He looked down at her in surprise and noted that her eyes were shut tight and she didn’t look ready to let go anytime soon. He smiled faintly and reached down to pull her blanket back up over her.
“It’s only a little, Birdie,” he told her in a hushed voice.
She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. Bowman never was any good at hiding things from Rischa. Ever since she’d realized her gift of the Voice, he could hide even less. She could read his heart like curling script was written on his wings. She knew where his thoughts inevitably went when his knee flared up. She knew the fear and pain and despair that he remembered, like echoes of a thunderstorm. She was only eight, and yet she already weathered the feelings of everyone around her.
Rischa reached up with one little hand to cup her palm on Bowman’s cheek. Her thumb brushed under his eye as if wiping away a tear that hadn’t been released, and she smiled at him. “I know. It’s okay, Bowman,” she told him.
He gave her a half smile, and his brow pinched with bemusement. “Look at you trying your best to freeze,” he said, pretending to scold her. He pulled her blanket up higher so it rested over her head and covered her golden eyes, getting a delighted giggle from her.
He opened one wing to wrap it around his young cousin and she snuggled closer to him. They took in the warmth together, and the cold couldn’t get to them. Bowman hummed quietly, a sound that Rischa could hear resounding in his chest. Even with the responsibility settled on her by her gift, Bowman would let her be a child for as long as he could.
In fact he does! Just like Sam, Dean and Jacob, the moment he was cursed a part of his mind was unlocked by that same curse! This will be a theme that is touched upon heavily in the as of yet, unnamed twelfth installment of Brothers Apart (the story I am currently agonizing over), and Sean’s ability will be revealed.
Dean sized Jacob up as he drank from his foil cup. No one had ever warned him that whiskey wasn’t made to be drank in draughts, and his own inhibitions were already down by his boots.
Jacob was a big guy, with muscle covering his arms and upper body. His legs were most likely the same, but they were hidden underneath waves of sturdy blue fabric every day. Despite the growing warmth outside, Dean couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t a fan of shorts under any conditions and never had been. Unless they were short shorts on certain girls he’d seen in school…
He had to shake his head to focus, and found himself almost pitching to the side. Sam snapped a hand out, steadying his balance. “Maybe you should sit,” Sam suggested, pulling Dean towards the alarm clock.
“No… ‘m fine, Sammy, leggo.” Dean tried to twist his arm out of Sam’s grip. With his own balance off and Sam doing fine, he didn’t succeed, pulled like a kitten and placed against the alarm clock to lean.
Dean huffed in annoyance. “Whatever.” He turned and pointedly ignored Sam, sadly shaking his cup and watching the dredges swirl around.
Sam sat back on the log he and Dean had claimed the night before for when they kept watch over the clearing. He watched as Jacob sat back carefully to lean on that cliff and watch the sky wistfully, hardly noticing a couple boulders that broke away and crashed to the ground. Suddenly it made sense why he had moved the pillow away the night before, putting Dean or Sam out of danger. Sam remembered how Jacob had tried to curl up into as small a ball as he could, and his face softened. Jacob was a gentle person at heart. They had to find a way to help him.
An echo of thunder rolled around Sean, and he dove underneath the scraps of fabric that made up his ‘nest.’
Standing at only three inches in height, the young boy blinked out at the world from his protective cocoon, huge tears flowing from his eyes. This was wrong. Everything was wrong, and he was scared.
Summoned by the yelp he’d heard, Walt Watch limped around the doorway that lead to the room Sean was staying in. The older man held his side tenderly, and Sean remembered hearing that his entire home had caved in on him, knocking him just out of range of a fire that raged. Walt was as lucky as Sean to be alive.
But at least he was used to being small.
“Hey, there,” Walt said, sitting next to Sean’s protective fort. “How are you hanging in?”
Sean said nothing, just blinked blearily at the older man. Another rumble of thunder came, this time with the rhythmic sounds of footsteps accompanying it. That made him dive down, out of sight. He hated the reminder of how small they were.
Walt put a hand on the top of the piled-up fabric. Krissy and Bennett had given up the extra room for Sean, since he wasn’t used to sharing with anyone the way they were. They were staying in the same room as their mother, and Walt had the room next to Sean’s. The young boy reminded him so much of Sam all those years ago. Afraid and alone and lonely. Forced to confront realities that no child deserved.
“Look, they don’t know we’re here,” Walt said wisely. “They won’t hear us, they won’t bother us. Sam once told me that humans had a way of getting through thunderstorms if young children were afraid. He said to just think of it as God getting a shower, and the thunder as his footsteps. Those humans up there are the same. Just walking around, minding their own business.”
Sean peeked out at Walt. “B-but if they find us…” he said in a half-moan of fear.
Walt ruffled his hair. “They won’t,” he promised. “We’ve got a safe home here. Besides, if it wasn’t for humans, we wouldn’t have much to eat, now, would we?”
Sean blinked back at him, looking unconvinced.
“If you want, I can stick around for a bit,” Walt offered. “Staying in a strange place all alone can be scary.”
Sean rubbed his eyes. “I’d like that,” he said shyly. “It’s just all so… different…”
“Sam said the same thing when we first found him,” Walt nodded. Sean’s wide eyes encouraged him to continue. Though Sean had never met Sam, he’d heard all about his rescuer from Krissy and Bennett. “He was just about your age back then…”
Walt told stories about Sam’s first days cursed until Sean couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer, and the young boy drifted off to sleep.
With a startled exclamation, Krissy drew her hand away from the needle she was trying to work with. A droplet of blood glistened on her fingertip, wavering as her hand shook.
“Here, let me see,” Mallory’s soft voice came, and a careful hand wrapped around Krissy’s slim wrist.
Mallory had decided to take the day to show Krissy some of the ropes on her sewing techniques. The boys were all out of the house except for Krissy’s younger brother, Bennett, who stayed back at her place to watch over their ailing mother. Sam and Walt would come back with enough food for both families, with any luck, and they would help support each other as best they could. It was good for Krissy to get out from time to time like this. She needed to get some space to herself, and she was one of the most adept people when it came to tiny, intricate movements.
They’d begun with dethreading some of the fabric Sam had found for them. A combination of blues and greens, Mallory was thrilled to have some color to work with for once. Krissy had claimed the green, and was trying her best to mimic the sewing techniques of Mallory. She was getting there, and one day might be able to make clothing like the jeans and jackets Sam and Walt were so fond of. Human designs really were versatile, no matter than they made the Watch family stand out among people their own size. It wasn’t like they went to gatherings very often.
Mallory blotted the blood from Krissy’s hand. “It’ll get easier as you go,” she said with a gentle smile. She held out her hand. As small and slim as her fingers were, the fingertips were covered with calluses from long years of sewing. Mallory poked at her fingertip with a needle. “I can barely feel it now,” she said with a grin.
Krissy’s eyes were wide. At just over seventeen, she idolized the older woman. Mallory was one of the few staples in her life, which was why she’d claimed all the green fabric. It was Mallory’s favorite color. If Krissy could make something to thank her with, it would need to be green.
Once her finger stopped throbbing, Krissy resumed her careful actions. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth and she concentrated hard on the fabric, determined to make the green dress that she saw in her mind a reality.
Sam would most likely spend his time at the size he’s used to. It’s been a very long time since he was human, and his knack aside, it’s jarring to be out and about with humans around. Dean or their close friends are one thing, but now he’ll be facing people that might be just like the Mangas family. There’s no way to know.
Dean would be thrilled, and now they’ve got an even better secret weapon. Sam can slip through the walls and get into places no human can go, and now he can switch back to full-size if he’s in trouble!
I actually used to try and keep a running word count of the chapters we’d write, but I since had to give up on it because we just have too many chapters to keep up with. Add that to the fact that every time we edit a chapter, the word count changes so I had to flop and give up. Tooooo much.
Luckily, as for what we’ve already got posted, Archive of Our Own is a wonderful website to post your stories. It keeps a running count of everything you post! So I know how much I have posted between all my different stories, and once chapters are posted it gets added to the total.
Current word count of all things posted:
That is just some crazy number of words, and I wouldn’t be surprised if what we have saved and waiting to be edited can come close to rivaling it. The horror story is our longest story we’ve written (which is why it takes so damn long to finish editing), and is at least 220k words by itself, based on my last count before I gave up.
If you’re ever curious about what the current word count of posted things is, drop me a line and I’ll dig up the number!
Brothers Apart 