A short story of Brothers Apart

On the other end, Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced over to Bowman, who wore the biggest, smuggest I told you so expression Jacob had ever seen on that tiny face. The name matched what he’d said, and the rest of his story most likely would fall into place more or less like he’d told it.

Bowman, meanwhile, could see Jacob working things out for himself in a brief pause. Sam’s voice was softer than Dean’s gruff greeting, and it was because he was smaller like a sprite, not because they had a bad connection like Jacob had first thought. That had to be the ‘sprite-sized’ brother.

Bowman drifted forward with his arms crossed. “I told you,” he said proudly, jolting Jacob out of his short pause.

“Uh, hi, Dean,” Jacob replied. “I got the number off a card my friend had. He said you guys worked with him a month or so ago,” he explained. Jacob felt so strange speaking cryptically like that, but the thought of talking plainly about the sprites when their society was so vulnerable made him nervous. Until he could be sure, he wouldn’t risk them. “You guys know Bowman?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot straight up, and even Sam focused on the phone more than his predicament. “Of course we do,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes with his own familiar suspicion. The sprites were just as vulnerable as Sam’s people. “He gave us some help on a case.”

Sam arranged his blanket so it wasn’t dangling off the edge and took up the conversation. “I don’t think we could have finished the case without him,” he said warmly, remembering their time in the Wellwood forest fondly. It was a rare opportunity to spend time with people his own size, and Sam missed those sprites. Rischa and Vel, along with Bowman and all his griping. “What’s going on? Is there trouble?” He remembered Dean giving the business card out in case any other emergencies arose, since they knew that a supernatural community like that might draw in other dangers, both supernatural and mundane.

“There’s no trouble,” Bowman interrupted, taking a perch on Jacob’s shoulder so he could address the device in his massive hand. It took a lot of convincing for him to truly believe that phones worked so well that conversations could be held between people continents apart. Sam and Dean could be anywhere out there, according to Jacob, but apparently they would be able to hear him talking.

“Unless you count Jacob not believing what happened here as trouble,” Bowman continued, pointedly nudging at Jacob’s neck with a wing. The shoulder beneath him twitched. “I was saying how you guys came and took me away but then helped us and he didn’t believe that there were zom-bees.”

“Okay, but you gotta admit, zombie wolves are kind of out there,” Jacob defended, unable to stop himself. Then, remembering that he was talking to a pair of guys that apparently spent all their time hunting things like that, he asked “They are, aren’t they?”

Dean chuckled, feeling some of the tension leave at the sound of Bowman’s voice, hale and hearty and as annoyed as ever. “They are definitely not your run-of-the-mill monster, that’s for sure. Hell, we never knew there were sprites living on earth until we had a run in with Bowman. It was a weird case all around.”

“So, you’re Bowman’s friend?” Sam asked eagerly. It wasn’t often he got to talk to safe humans like Dean and Bobby. “He mentioned you when we were working together. We don’t run into too many people that know about people… Bowman’s size.” He stumbled over his words, almost slipping up and saying my size.

Jacob grinned, bemused by the thought of Bowman telling other people about him. Hopefully the stories were good. “Yeah, I guess the sprites keep themselves pretty hidden all over the place,” he replied.

“Because most of you humans are giants,” Bowman cut in pointedly. The fact that he could find an easy perch on a shoulder of all things spoke to how ridiculously big humans were.

Bowman’s use of the phrase ‘most of you’ reminded Jacob yet again what else he’d heard about Sam. “Yeah, we’re unfair about it, alright,” he replied. Before Bowman could gripe at him for his comment, he went on. “But I’m guessing you’re Sam? Bowman’s been telling me about both of you guys, and says you kept your brother from being too troublesome with him. I’m impressed because, well, I’m betting you know by now how easily he talks himself into trouble.”

“Climb a dead tree, Jacob!” Bowman protested. This time, his wing smacked at the hand with the phone, and a rustle of wings could be heard through the microphone.

Sam heard the wingslap, and was reminded of all the ways Dean and Bowman had poked at each other throughout the case. Those memories were temporarily overridden, though, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He’d forgotten Bowman would probably tell his friend about him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Sam,” Sam introduced himself shyly. He could count on one hand the number of humans he knew and interacted with on a friendly basis, so this was a little out of his depth. “I help Dean on hunts.”

“You’re a hunter like Dean,” Dean corrected sternly, nudging his little brother in the shoulder before he tilted the phone and let Sam slide off into a hand of his own where he could safely untangle himself from the blanket. “And no one will ever say differently while I’m around.”