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!

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!

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!

Motel Sprites: Part 3

( Start from here! )

Dean waved Sam off. “All we gotta do is wait for him to be distracted. In, out, there’s nothing to it. Everyone gets food and he goes on never knowing we exist.”

Sam sighed. “Walt will kill you one of these days.”

Dean flashed a charming, confident grin. “Haven’t been caught yet, have I?”

The tiny conversation in the room never caught Jacob’s attention as he shifted his bag around on the bed, dumping out some of his things and snagging his small phone from a side pouch. In his hands, the little thing bordered on ridiculous, and he had gotten many comments before about his thumbs being too big for the buttons. He was nearing his full height, inches over six feet, and he had the hands to match.

Even so, he poked out a quick message on the phone with relative ease, used to making use of such small buttons. It helped that he had quite a bit of practice with almost everything being made for someone with smaller hands.

With the text sent, he tossed it back to the bed with a single bounce, and then grabbed his supplies to move them to the bathroom sink. As he trudged across the room, hardly making note of the decor or the faded paint, he rolled his shoulder with a faint wince. It seemed like it was always stiff now, despite it being months since it had pained him. A jagged, puckered scar, hidden beneath layers of t-shirt and hoodie, was supposed to be all that was left of the wound.

At least he didn’t have to use a cane to hold himself up anymore. He tossed his supplies into the sink alcove, and then wandered back to the main room.

His phone was already blinking to show it had a return message. When he grabbed it, he almost rolled his eyes at the simple urgency of the Call me? on the tiny screen.

Wearily and hoping he wouldn’t take so long that his food cooled off, Jacob sat on the end of the bed and dialed the number to give his mother a call to let her know he was okay.

While Jacob got settled, the Winchesters were on the move.

This has to spell trouble…

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

Motel Sprites: Part 2

( Start from here! )

The diner wasn’t too busy, with only a few tables taken up by locals, but it took a little time to decide what he wanted. Jacob offered the hostess an easygoing smile while he checked over the menu and made his decision. He’d long since learned to keep a mellow demeanor with people, considering his height and bulk.

He hadn’t done as much lifting in the past year as he was used to, but he was getting back into things after an old injury had finally healed. Even without the intense regimen, he was formidable. His lax attitude, one that he’d been able to practice on the most timid of people, worked well. He placed his order and the hostess offered him a friendly smile as she went to tell the cook.

Soon enough he had a bag placed in his hand, and the food boxed within was so warm he felt it through the layers of cardboard and plastic. He left and, with one more glance at the dimming horizon, hurried back to his chosen home for the night.

In minutes, his car pulled up to the door of his motel room once more, with faded paint and a dull brass number nailed to the front.

Jacob moved casually as he got out of the car, his bag of food hanging from one hand and his room key in the other. Soon enough, the latch of the door clicked loudly to announce his return and he stepped inside, tossing the key to the table without a second thought. The plastic bag shuffled loudly as he set it down, and then he paused. 

Should probably text mom, he decided, turning back towards the bed where his backpack waited.


From hiding in the room, Dean watched the human move, on edge and at the ready to dive back into the walls they had emerged from.

A thin strip of light lit up one eye where he was peering out, the only part of him that was visible as he assessed the situation. Sam kept back, one arm over his satchel and alert for any change to his knack.

They were an effective team, and even with the human in the room, Dean decided not to discount the chance at getting some much-needed food for them and their family.

The plastic bag, up on the table, let out an aroma that called Dean back to older days. Back when they could order their own food and eat when the meals were warm. His mouth watering, he kept his eyes glued on it.

“We can totally take it,” Dean whispered to Sam.

“Are you nuts?!

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

Motel Sprites: Part 1

( While I’m feeling down we briefly paused writing our regular stories and started doing some good ole’ crack! It’s a good way to help break writer’s block, throw Sam and Dean at Jacob in a slight change of circumstances! )

Story parts: 1(here) || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 ||

A worn but reliable maroon car had no opposition on the road as it sped down a flat expanse, kicking up a meager cloud of dust in its wake. Jacob Andris, a midwesterner at heart, felt at ease under the dome of an open sky, with the occasional cluster of trees throwing their shade onto the road as he passed. Oklahoma had been barely a blip on his path, and now he was on a road that felt more like home.

Kansas had a familiar charm to it. After a road trip down into New Mexico to check out one of the colleges there, it felt good to roll through the more familiar terrain, with cornfields and wind turbines stretching over a flat horizon. Jacob couldn’t help a sigh of relief as he put all signs of the desert behind him. Road trips were a favorite hobby of his, but this one had given him more stress than relaxation so far.

It was early evening when he decided to give in to the temptation of food and some rest. The sun was still shining orange and pink near the horizon, but that wouldn’t last long before the sky became a blanket of glittering black. He’d set aside some cash before the trip for this purpose, but he was glad to see a little motel with decent rates advertised on the sign. Whatever he could save, he did. He checked in, with the clerk almost relieved to finally see some business.

The place couldn’t be too bad. It wasn’t crawling with anything when he got to the room, and that was all he needed. He even stooped down to check under the bed, but all he found was dust bunnies.

He left his bag on the tacky bedspread, with some of his road supplies already spilling out. It wasn’t a long trip, so he didn’t have as much as some folks usually brought, but then Jacob was almost always prepared for a quick weekend getaway. He spent as much time as he could up at a certain forest campground, well off the designated path for hikers. Only a few people really knew what drew him back there so often, and the ones that didn’t never thought to ask.

With one last glance over his shabby but cozy room, he stepped back out to go find some takeout to bring back.


A room away, unbeknownst to Jacob, were two people wandering in the general direction of his room.

They had thus far had an unsuccessful day of gathering supplies. Sam Winchester tagged along behind his older brother, Dean Winchester.

Dean’s knack, while useful when they were desperate, had stayed irritatingly silent while they were out. Sam’s had given them the needed warnings when the maids came in to clean the rooms, alerting them to humans that might come close to their hiding spots and serving them well in their evasive movements to stay hidden.

After all, the two brothers, though they had once been human, stood under a half a foot tall. Together, they couldn’t outweigh a single hand. A single night had stolen all that away from them, a witch attacking them and reducing them in height until the people they would seek for help looked at them as less than rodents if they went to them for help.

They’d survived, thanks to a family at the same scale that had found them. Raised them as family, taught them survival at their heights. Sam hadn’t been over three inches tall, and Dean just a bit taller. Over the years they’d adapted, and their knacks had appeared, unique abilities that kept them safe and fed.

Dean could find anything he needed, but he needed to need it. They hadn’t figured out exactly how to make him track down just anything, though it had saved them from starvation multiple times.

Sam could sense anyone that was looking around, either for or near them. It was invaluable in staying undetected time and time again when they raided the nearby rooms.

“Just one more,” Dean said out loud from just ahead of Sam.

Sam glanced up. Dean’s voice was soft, so it didn’t carry far enough to be heard outside of the walls. “You really think it’ll do much good?” he asked, resigned to their empty supply bags.

Dean shrugged. “I saw some kid checking in earlier. He might have some snacks we can nab. It’s better than nothin’, right?”

So, does anyone think Dean’s plan is a good idea?

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

November 28th excerpt:

Blinking harshly, Dean forced his eyes to adjust faster, until he could see the inside of the vent as good as he saw the room outside. He had to admit, out of all the perks of his size, being able to see in a near darkness was one of the better ones. The vent came into sharp clarity, and he set off, quickly jogging down the few feet to the bend in the vent.

Once Dean was close enough to make out more of the silhouette, he let out a low whistle, impressed by his findings.

Don’t You Cry (A Brothers Together Short)


Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like.”

There’s always a risk with Oscar prompts that I’ll end up thinking about Brothers Together Oscar. The little sweetie needs to be checked up on from time to time.

Oscar wished humans didn’t come to his motel to have their fights, but he was used to it by now. The loud, sharp sound of voices so much more powerful than his wavered in the stale air within the walls and the air ducts. Raw emotion that could overwhelm him like a tide ensured that he knew exactly where they were just from the sheer volume. Most of the time, it ended with a door slamming.

He sighed as he wandered his route through the motel. In the vents and the walls, under the floorboards and above the ceiling, Oscar had a routine that he kept to every day. Knowing the schedule and when to nab a stray trinket or dropped piece of food was his entire livelihood.

Today was a good day as far as that was concerned. His bag was comfortably heavy with the spoils of his search for food, and there was even a raisin he was looking forward to eating later. He’d also found a half-emptied packet of tissues underneath a dresser. He carried that under one arm, unsure of what he’d even use it for but glad for the find.

It just figured that a lover’s quarrel would erupt while he was on his way home.

Their voices were raised when he was still in the ceiling of the next room, picking his way over pipes and ceiling tiles or balancing on support boards. They crescendoed as he wriggled into an opening in an air duct, one of his shortcuts on the way home. The usual Why would you do this? and That’s not what I mean! reverberated through his cloth-wrapped feet.

He paused while sidling past the vent opening into their room. The ceiling vent gave him a view of the table below, and the foot of one of the beds. From the looks of things, a woman sat there while a man paced back and forth.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” the man thundered, and Oscar flinched. For a moment, he froze as fear of that voice crept over him. He couldn’t help it.

“Don’t talk to me like that! Don’t! You never just listen to me, you never do!” the woman wailed back. Her voice was closer to breaking. The shrillness hurt Oscar’s ears.

“Listen, honey, I’m sorry, I really am, but you’re the one who keeps screwing up!” the man snapped back.

Oscar frowned. Y’know, that’s not what an apology sounds like … While the man continued berating the woman, he could swear she started to sob quietly. The raised voice had finally beaten down her defenses.

Oscar couldn’t blame her.

He realized that he’d lingered too long when the man finally stormed to the door of the motel. Light and air flooded in from outside for a moment, and then the door slammed so hard that Oscar almost lost his footing.

He was left stunned while the woman below wept.

Oscar shifted his feet. He should be going. He never liked being privy to what the humans thought were private conversations. Even if they yelled them for anyone to hear, it wasn’t his argument to weigh in on. It wasn’t even his world.

He crossed the vent at last, but then paused when he heard a forlorn, shaky sigh from below. From the new angle, he could see the woman sitting at the edge of the bed, face buried in her hands. She sniffled, and Oscar sighed. The poor girl had been left on her own. Maybe not for good, like Oscar had, but he knew that isolating feeling. Familiar surroundings became warped and inescapable.

He was going through the motions before he could stop to consider it. The packet of tissues, thanks to being half full, fit through the slats of the vent. The plastic rustled so loudly in his ears, and he heard a gasp below as it emerged on the other side.

Once it was pushed enough through to fall to the table below, Oscar turned and bolted. He couldn’t wait around to see how the woman reacted to the sudden appearance of something to dry her eyes. It was too risky. If she found him, he could be trapped.

But she needed something to dry her eyes more than Oscar did. He had his food from the day, and that was the important part.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the help.

April 26th excerpt:

“Dean! Wait!” Sam shouted. He pointed down next to the leg of the dresser. “That should work.”

That happened to be a peeling piece of the old wallpaper that covered the walls of the room. Under the curling corner at the bottom, instead of drywall, there was a blackness that almost seemed darker than night.

Sam wouldn’t have much reason to keep it a secret from Dean. They had a rocky start at some points, but he trusts his older brother to not bother others in the wall, and getting the recipe out wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Dean considers his burgers perfect, though, so it better be a good recipe.


( x )

Sam is definitely not a fan of knocking holes in the walls to get things out, though Dean is known to go this route if he has to– Even going so far as to prompt his hunter-in-training, Jacob Andris, to smash into the walls during a scene in

Brothers Lost.

Sam blanched. “Are you nuts?! ” he sputtered. “What if there’s people living here in the walls? What if the humans see the entrance!”

“There’s already a break in the wallpaper!” Dean said stubbornly. “It was the only way for me to escape!”

Jacob paused, unsure of what to make of Dean’s suggestion. He’d never once thought he would actually be asked to break into the walls like this, by one of the people who called them safety. He didn’t doubt he’d be able to, but all the same it felt like an intrusion. If there were people living hidden here, it really was.

His slightly muffled voice was hesitant when it filtered through the wall. “Well, uh. Okay, guys. Stay right where you are.”

“Holy shit, he’s gonna do it.”

The wall a foot and a half away from them practically exploded inward. Jacob’s boot retreated from the strong kick and the parts of the drywall that he’d splintered sagged. Light broke in and illuminated the angrily stirring dust.