February 4th excerpt:

Once Stan got a feel for the pitch and sway of Sam’s gait, he reached down and plucked a small, slightly sticky lump that he recognized the smell of more than anything. His stomach gave an excited grumble at the reminder of the crumb of soft granola he’d been offered earlier and couldn’t finish. Mouth watering, Stan took a big munch out of the granola lump. Never in his life had there ever been food readily on hand, and the entire idea excited Stan deeply.

January 23rd excerpt:

Sam didn’t notice at first that Stan had vanished from the top of the pocket, so intrigued by the story in the book was he. It wasn’t until he’d reached well over halfway that he glanced down to find Stan gone.

Concerned, Sam nudged open the flap of his pocket to see inside, spotting Stan in his ragged clothing curled up inside, fast asleep. The amount of trust invested in them by the little guy hit Sam all at once. Stan had no control over what happened to him, yet he was slumbering peacefully away, his face relaxed.

January 21st excerpt:

Sam hummed thoughtfully as he tore the wrapper in half, breaking off a small piece of the granola bar to hold up for Stan.

Seeing the offered food, Stan reached out to take it from the massive fingers belonging to Sam. His armpits over the edge of the pocket held him in place as he nibbled, grateful for the snack as it seemed that they wouldn’t be stopping for a while. If there was one thing Stan knew, it was when a long car ride was imminent.

January 20th excerpt:

“Can I go back down now?” With the book tucked away and Sam dealing with the others, planning to meet back up with Dean in five minutes, Stan figured he ought to be hidden in the pocket once again. However, he didn’t want to just drop out if Sam expected to continue the conversation at all.

“Uh, sure,” Sam said, distracted and vaguely surprised by the question. “You don’t need to ask.”

Motel Sprites: Part 6

( Start from here! )

“Dean!” Sam called out, diving to grab the hook anchored to the top of the table. With all the movement going on, all he could see was the hook slipping from where it rested in a crack in the worn wood grain.

With one tiny person swinging on a thread and brandishing a knife at him and another one appearing on the table and diving towards the edge, Jacob balked. His hands remained under the one who was climbing, but only just, as he focused for a moment on the other. Tiny hands, perfect imitations of the much larger hands of a human, gripped the little fish hook so it wouldn’t lose its purchase on the edge of the table. A fish hook.

“No way,” Jacob muttered, watching the little person for a moment before turning his gaze back to the other one. This guy had a glare on his face that couldn’t be mistaken no matter how small it was.

The little knife glinted in the light as the man swung back and forth on his thread, and Jacob realized they didn’t look much like the sprites he knew. Aside from the climbing, they both had bags hanging on their shoulders, and their jackets looked closer to human design than wood sprite. He did a double take between them, lingering on the hook to make sure the little guy on the table wasn’t about to drop it or go tipping over the side.

Finally, Jacob tilted his head to get a better look at the one who determinedly held a knife out while clinging to the thread with only one hand. That by itself took the kind of strength that most wood sprites simply didn’t have. Jacob eyed the little hand, but then noticed the texture of the jacket the little guy wore.

“Is that leather? ” he asked, one hand moving up from where it hovered a few inches under the little guy. He kept it out of range of the tiny knife, like he was guarding a candle. When he thought he had an opening, he brushed a fingertip over the back of the jacket before backing off again. He didn’t want to upset his balance.

Jacob was baffled and fascinated all at once. “Well, you’re not wood sprites, that’s for sure.”

“What are you–” Dean didn’t know what to react to first. He swung his arm defensively backwards, where he’d felt a large finger graze his jacket. “Do I look like Tinkerbell?!”

The action of trying to strike at the offending hand sent his thread swinging in a new direction. Up above, Sam’s grip tightened on the hook as it threatened to slip from its spot. “Dean, stop moving!” he called down in warning. If the hook fell, Dean might not get hurt, but he would definitely get a one-way trip into the human’s hand. That… would end badly for one of them. Maybe Dean, maybe the human if his hand got sliced to ribbons by Dean’s silver knife.

Dean returned his hand to the thread to anchor himself, his boots pinching the thread for stability. He’d given up on any hope of progress while under such scrutiny. “Unless I’ve got a set of wings I never noticed, wrong friggin’ guess, Godzilla!” he snapped in annoyance.

Dean is just… in the worst place for an argument here XD

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!

January 19th excerpt:

Glancing surreptitiously around the corner of the library he’d squirreled himself away in, Sam flicked his wrist, snapping his knife into his hand. With a quick motion, he flipped it open and pried off the little plastic strip that would set off the alarms in the library, securing it to a book on fae he had placed to the side. When he left, a certain book would be coming with him, their best lead so far on Stan’s past. A children’s book.

Stan gave a small start as a knife suddenly appeared in Sam’s hand, with a blade longer than he was tall. That was the last thing he expected to happen, but he reminded himself that he was with hunters now. Though he didn’t know their ways just yet, Stan had a pretty good idea of their love of weapons. His glimpse into the trunk the night before had been proof enough of that.

Motel Sprites: Part 5

( Start from here! )

The summer before, Jacob had gone on a camping trip with some of his friends. What was supposed to be a normal outing to enjoy the outdoors away from civilization had taken a turn for the fantastical when Jacob had discovered a tiny little man in their campsite. Sporting green clothes that blended in with the forest, he couldn’t stand over four inches tall.

He’d had wings. Vibrant green ones that mimicked leaves as if the little guy had fallen off of a tree and into existence all at once. With bright green eyes to match, contrasting with his brown skin, Bowman Leafwing had looked every part a forest fairy. Not that he ever let anyone call him that.

Jacob had gone back to that forest many times since then, learning a bit more about the wood sprites and how they lived. One thing he remembered distinctly was that sprites were not especially good climbers, so if that little figure speeding up the string as fast as his little arms would allow was a sprite, he didn’t come from Wellwood.

“Holy shit.” Jacob didn’t have time for many other thoughts. He lurched forward, careful not to bump the table, and crouched down next to it. “Dude, don’t fall!” Before his worry could become a reality, Jacob’s hands darted out and cupped several inches underneath the tiny guy. That way, at least, no one had to break any bones in their rush.

Sam balked from the edge of the table, taking a step away from the human. It was like seeing a mountain rise up and rush at them all at once, and it was hard to believe that all of that was just one guy.

Dean was in much worse shape. Jacob’s movement through the air sent the thread swinging slightly, enough to offset his balance. He clung desperately to it, all climbing halted. One foot wrapped around the climbing thread to anchor him in place while he yanked out his knife, an instinctive reaction even in midair.

“I was doing fine before you!” Dean snapped angrily, holding the knife threateningly. Most of the threat was reduced by the fact that he couldn’t actually reach the guy to strike unless he physically put his hand an inch within reach. 

“Back off!”

Dean flails.

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!

January 18th excerpt:

Remembering Stan’s slight accent, British but leaning towards a more Irish lilt, Sam called up records from the British Isles, looking to see if any Stan Bakers lived over there, or any kids had gone missing years back.

Nothing.

Sam briefly substituted Stanely for Stan, but the results were equally disappointing.

Motel Sprites: Part 4

( Start from here! )

Sam darted out from cover first, dashing over to the leg of the table. Though he disagreed with Dean on their timing, knowing they’d be better off waiting for this kid to step out of the room or fall asleep, there was also the possibility that the food would be put in the mini-fridge in the corner. The second it went in there, it would be out of their reach forever. They would be back to scrounging for scraps and discards.

Flattening his back against the table leg, Sam chanced one look out at where Jacob was, then motioned for Dean, starting the second half of their routine.

Dean ran full-speed at the table, pulling out his hook as he went. He sized up the toss and twirled the hook once, twice, three times to gain momentum before releasing it to arc up into the air.

It sailed up, and even as Dean hit the leg of the table next to Sam, found its mark. He tugged twice and smirked as he handed the black thread over to Sam to climb up. He never missed his mark.

Sam scrambled up the thread without missing a beat.

Jacob’s voice, deep and mellow, created the background noise for their risky plan. When the call connected, he couldn’t help a brief smile. “Hey, mom,” he greeted, knowing at least some of her concerns were immediately quelled. “Yeah, Kansas,” he said in reply to something on the other line.

His gaze didn’t wander much from the odd, plain painting behind the TV, sparing Sam and Dean from a glance. “Uh-huh. I got some brochures and stuff that we can look at when I get back. I probably could try to make the overnight drive …”

He trailed off and the faint mumble of his mother insisting he not do that could be heard out of the little phone. Jacob chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna,” he insisted. More mumbling from the phone. “Little place called Trails West. It’s cozy. Somehow I’ll survive.”

Sam reached the top of the table as Jacob droned on about the area he was in. Keeping the plastic bag of food between him and the human, he signaled Dean it was safe to come up.

Dean started his climb, slow and steady and nothing like Sam. He had never taken to the activity like his younger brother, preferring to keep his feet on solid ground. Solid, low ground. Unfortunately, their size worked against them in many ways, and one of them was the necessity of climbing and keeping to heights out of reach when possible, resigning Dean to a life of climbing. Sending up Sam as a sentry had become a regular habit between them, giving them the smallest amount of exposure down on the ground possible.

Sam sighed as he waited, looking once more around the bag to make sure that Jacob remained in the dark to their presence.

For all appearances, Jacob might never look their way. He had a patient look on his face as his mother went over her plans for the next few days, and how glad she was that he was on track despite his setbacks going into his last year of high school. A year was a long time, and it gave him a chance to heal.

“Yeah, mom, love you too,” he finally got to say. She seemed mollified about his stay in the Trails West motel, and let him hang up without more fuss.

As his thumb mashed the End button, he turned to the side to toss the phone down next to the rest of his stuff. That food was waiting, and his eyes next went right for the table. He was so shocked by what he saw that he froze halfway to a stand.

Hanging from a string, dangling at least a foot off the floor and climbing up to the table, was a tiny little figure. Jacob stared, not even noticing anyone else around, and finally straightened. “A sprite?” he blurted, more confusion than anything else in his tone.

Well, Dean’s plan has gone as well as Sam predicted!

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!