Visiting the village of Wellwood had become something Jacob looked forward to with every opportunity that arose. Long weekends off school or extra time off from his odd jobs almost guaranteed he would make the drive back to the forest that no one else seemed to realized contained a secret. Far beyond the campgrounds and the fence, Jacob made his way towards the idyllic village tucked away in the heart of the woods.
Out there surrounded by the green and gold of the canopy and the earthy tones of the tree trunks and the ground under his boots, Jacob felt the stress falling away. Out here, the most he had to worry about was stepping on slick mud and losing his footing.
Once he was certain Sam wouldn’t be tossed off if he moved, Dean leaned in to peer into the sprite home through one of the windows. He instantly caught sight of Jacob, standing just barely taller than Bowman. The kid had backed away from the window, giving Dean the chance to see him from head to toe. It was unreal. Jacob was so small that he could barely catch sight of the tiny metallic zipper on the hoodie.
“Didn’t your parents tell you to take your vitamins?” Dean asked, joking to try and push through the complete weird of the situation. “Hey Jacob.”
At one point, sitting casually in the living room, the sprites all seemed to simultaneously notice the shiny metal zipper keeping his black hoodie (an article of clothing that seemed to provide endless entertainment to the nestlings when he was the right size, always hiding leaves and seeds in the hood or pockets) closed. Bowman had seemed so unduly fascinated by the simple workings of it, but then again Jacob always reminded himself that the sprites were so isolated from humans that Bowman didn’t even know what they were when he met them.
They’d all wanted to try the zipper, just to see it in action on their scale. Jacob grinned faintly as Rischa zipped up his hoodie while he crouched for her. Her golden eyes were full of wonder at the “human magic."
Dean was exasperated, still rambling about the dog. “He’s the size of a freakin’ house! At least when Sam brought home a mouse, it couldn’t try and eat me!”
Sam snorted at him, rolling his eyes. “Dean. He’s not going to do anything.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Dean said, one hand clutching the fabric behind them, “and I’ll be up high. Where it’s safer.”
Thanks to careful aim, Dean managed to land on Sam’s head when he reached the bottom of the hood. Both brothers went tumbling into the folds, and Dean considered his vengeance for the surprise elbow attack complete.
Sam gave him a shove back as they both tried to right themselves in the dim interior. The grey folds of fabric didn’t let much light in, but it wasn’t a problem for them. Compared to the dark walls of the motel, the hood was a well-lit hammock. They could see each other without a problem.
Brothers Apart 