(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.
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!
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Can you see Sam’s face when the door opens and in strolls his older brother, predictable knock and all to announce he’s there, only there’s a kid, and god he looks so familiar and then Sam realizes it’s the Dean he remembers from right when he got cursed…
So much to take in all at once.
Dean seems so small, even though he still towers over Sam. His hands are much thinner, and his fingers shorter. He has to pull the bench seat of the Impala so far up that Sam can see his little metal hideout peeking out if he peers off the back of the seat.
And Sam looks bigger to Dean because even though Sam hasn’t changed, Dean’s gotten a lot shorter himself. Scrawny kiddo wearing oversized clothes, they better get him back to normal soon!
This prompt takes place between the events of Taken and Schism, while Sam’s arm was healing and Dean stayed at the motel for three months (a record, for Trails West ).
It was late, but Krissy found herself wandering the passageways and vents in the walls on her own.
Normally, she would wait until someone else was willing to go. She didn’t like to venture close to the human rooms on her own. Lessons drilled into her mind from her father and her mother, back in those happy years before everything had changed, taught her the dangers of humanity.
Those lessons stuck fast after her father was gone, and her mother withdrew from the world, leaving Krissy and her young brother Bennett to fend for themselves.
Walt was amazing. He’d come to live with them after Krissy had dragged him out of the ash herself, saving his life as he’d saved theirs since. He helped find enough food for everyone to eat, brought home more supplies than Krissy ever dreamed of finding on her own now that her best friend Sam was gone.
Of course, Sam was back now, along with his older brother.
Dean.
No one had ever expected them to reappear, Krissy least of all. She knew Walt had hoped to see his erstwhile adopted son again, but those were dreams and fantasies best left to musings. Sam appearing on her doorstep had been the last thing she’d ever expected.
And so she wandered, and wondered.
Sam’s arm was broken, so he was staying in the walls with them until he healed. She’d noticed a nervousness about him that hadn’t been there when he left with Dean. It wasn’t hard to figure out that his recent injury had forced him to confront truths better left to the subconscious.
He was afraid, just like her.
Krissy paused at the slits of a vent, drawn to the light. She knew what room she was over, and only just managed to get herself close enough to see out. She didn’t want to risk the human glancing up and seeing her.
The large hunter was sprawled out on his bed. The television was on in the background, but the sound was turned off. In his hand was curled what she’d heard called a… ‘music player,’ or an ‘iPod.’
Humans sure had strange names for things.
Dean was wearing earbuds, so Krissy let her guard relax a little. She could hear the music, a soft rock that Sam had talked about while they were growing up, leaking from the buds. He’d never hear her with those on. Even a hunter’s senses could be dampened down.
For a moment, she stared at him, trying to imagine him standing at the same height as Sam. He didn’t look that scary, not laying on the bed, his eyes closed and his face so peaceful. Kara talked about him nonstop, and for a moment Krissy could see it.
Then her phobia caught up to her and she stumbled away from the edge of the vent. The soft music vanished, and her breath caught as she realized he might have heard that.
“Sam?” came a deep call, a hopeful note resounding in it. For over three weeks Sam had been in the motel, and Krissy knew that he hadn’t gone back to see Dean yet.
She slowed her breathing and pulled herself out of sight around a corner. A shadow dampened the light, and she covered her mouth.
“Sammy? That you? I’ve got some salad, if you wanted to come visit…” Dean’s voice trailed off, sounding forlorn and lost. Krissy had to blink back surprise at that.
The light came back, and she heard the human stomping away.
Maybe she’d see how Sam was feeling. Human or not, Dean sounded lonely. No one deserved to be forgotten like that.
This became an interesting exercise and a moment I’ve thought about many times.
The burrow was dark, calm.
In the largest room, the two sentries kept watch. One would occasionally add to the pit of coals, stirring it around with a large stick to keep them from going out. The other paced from the front entrance, which looked out on the field they lived in, all the way to the back entrance, where the creek trickled peacefully by.
Nets, woven by the women, were left in the water. They would be checked first thing in the morning for any minnows that might have found their way into their clutches. The fish would be descaled and would become their meal for the next day. If they caught enough, they might even be able to make fish stew, a staple down in the burrow.
Arthur, the erstwhile leader of the tiny community that lived under the ground in the warrens and tunnels they’d both found and built themselves, slept peacefully through the night.
His young daughter, Alyssa, slept in one of the nearby rooms that branched off of his. She was almost thirteen now, and itched to live in a place of her own like the others. His rule was she had to wait until she was at least fourteen. He didn’t want his only living relation to be too far from him, even in their safe world.
So late that night it was almost morning, there was a rumble overhead. Arthur sat bolt upright, his eyes going straight to the ceiling as dirt and debris rained down on him.
Something was happening.
As he tore out of his home, he shouted to Alyssa, “Stay down here! Don’t come up until we send the signal everything is safe!” She covered her mouth, her green eyes watery from the combination of sleep and fear that hit her.
He reached the top, and one of the wooden spears they sharpened up for protection was thrown to him. Arthur was as prepared as anyone to protect their home, and he caught it with the ease of long years, following the others to the main entrance.
Loud barks drowned out the rumbles, and Arthur and the others skid to a halt at the sight before their eyes.
The new dog that lived up at the House they’d come from was there, but he wasn’t the source of the angry snarls and scratch marks that marred the entrance. The massive black Rottweiler was holding another animal pinned to the ground, a raccoon whose dexterous claws could reach into the burrow and pull people out to snack on if they happened too close to an entrance while it was around.
With a resounding growl, the dog bared its teeth. They sealed around the raccoon’s throat, and ended the threat.
Even Arthur, with long years and harsh days behind him already, had to look away. The dog didn’t leave the corpse there, sitting on their front doorstep. It pulled the raccoon away, and vanished into the stalks of grass.
Long moments passed, and Arthur waited with the sentries and defenders. His arms shook, knowing they were helpless if the dog came back and wanted to dig up their home.
Ten long, arduous minutes passed before they heard anything else. Panting, the dog trotted up out of the grass. Arthur snapped his spear up, holding it defensively in front of him. The others followed suit.
Instead of an attack, the dog sniffed towards the entrance and let out a long, whining growl. It stretched out on its belly, expressive brown eyes blinking at the people guarding their home.
“I don’t believe it,” Arthur heard a voice say, and was shocked to find it was his own.
His spear dropping to the ground, he found himself taking a step forward.
“Arthur, get back here!” one of the others snapped, and he recognized Neera’s voice.
He waved her off.
The dog simply watched his approach, nose twitching as he came in range. He held up his hands. “Thank you for saving us,” Arthur enunciated carefully, laying a hand on the dog’s snout.
The chocolate brown eyes closed, and to his surprise, the dog let out a moan of contentment. Arthur’s face split into a grin, and he rubbed the fur with greater abandon, thanking their protector.
And so Arthur and his people adopted Rumsfeld much the same way as Rumsfeld adopted them.
Brothers Apart 