Chapter Text
(12,368 words)
Dean runs through the woods as fast as his legs can carry him—which honestly isn't very fast, but only because it's so dark out with only the moon as his flashlight, and because he's just ten years old, the perfect bait for a werewolf with a preference for younger hearts.
He'd gotten separated from his dad by the werewolf's monstrous buddies, but this isn't his first hunt, and definitely not the first time he's ever been isolated. No, he has a silver knife in hand, and even if it's a little heavy to comfortably swing around, it's way better than nothing. He just has to stay out of the thing's hands until his dad can find him, he reminds himself, trying in vain to calm his shaking hands and racing heart.
How he wishes he was back at the motel with Sammy, making sure none of the monsters could so much as look at his baby brother. How he wishes he could curl up under a blanket and wake up to the monster dead and his dad safe and Sammy safe without Dean ever having to even lay eyes on the monster—
"Ahh!" Dean yelps as he trips over a stick, landing on the leaves with a noise that's a mix between a crunch and a thud.
Immediately, sticks start snapping in the distance as something rushes closer, and Dean's blood runs cold as he tries to find purchase on the ground to get upright, though all he manages to do is scramble on the muddy ground and startle a bunch of fireflies. The werewolf comes into view, its huge teeth longer than Dean's arm and stained in blood, and Dean's heart drops to his ill-fitting shoes.
"P-please don't eat me," he pleads desperately, holding his silver blade out defensively but knowing the monster has to get dangerously close for him to even use it. "Please, I-I just wanna go home to Sammy…"
The monster doesn't listen, stalking closer through the dead leaves with a series of low, heavy crunches. Dean hates the way he whimpers, hates the way he feels like such a little kid when his dad trained him long ago that his childhood is over. He braces for an attack and swings his knife wildly in the direction of the werewolf, not wanting to look at something so terrifying ever again.
But an attack never comes.
His eyes fly open when he hears something get thrown back against a tree, gasping when he sees a tiny ball of light driving into the werewolf's chest, watching the life leave the creature's eyes and its features shrink back to something resembling a human. Dean's eyes stay wide when the ball of light stops in front of him, and before he can react, it brushes against his cheek.
It's such a gentle touch, filled with softness and warmth he hasn't felt since his mom died in that fire half a lifetime ago, the contact depressingly brief before it zips off and blinks out of sight.
The small cuts Dean got from running into sharp twigs and jagger bushes glow faintly before healing over instantly, making his mouth drop open in surprise. That…that was no firefly…
"T-thank you," he says into the quiet forest, hoping the ball of light can hear him.
"Dean!" his dad shouts from somewhere in the distance, and he flinches and scrambles towards the werewolf's body, knowing what he has to do but hating it. "Dean!"
He tugs the body to the ground and pushes his knife against its chest, cringing at the fleshy wall stopping him. Closing his eyes, he forces down a wave of nausea and shoves the knife into its chest right over the scorched mark, hoping his dad won't notice the evidence of the real cause of death before they burn the body. He knows the creature is already dead, but the feeling of a knife sinking into flesh never fails to make him sick to his stomach.
"Dean!"
"D-Dad?" he calls back, trying to force his voice to stop shaking, though his hands are a lost cause. "I'm over here!"
His heart pounds in his chest as his dad's heavy footsteps get closer, even if his brain knows the monster is already gone, left dead at his feet and killed by another creature he can only hope his dad doesn't want to hunt next. He knows all monsters are bad because they're not human, but…some don't seem so bad. Some just seem like they're trying their best in the crappy situation they were thrown into, like they just want peace and quiet but are forced to do bad things sometimes to survive.
Dean can only keep quiet about the ball of light that had helped him and hope his dad doesn't know about it, knowing how dark its fate might be otherwise. The second his dad's hulking figure stomps out from the shadows of the treeline, Dean instinctively takes a step back as if another monster is coming for him, anxiously waiting to see if the man will realize he's not responsible for the kill.
"Did you get it?" are his dad's first words, rather than asking if he's okay or demanding he stop shaking, since he's not a little boy anymore.
"Y-yeah. Right in the heart," he lies, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Atta boy. Let's start a fire to burn the body." His dad's already turning away to gather wood, not sparing him another glance. "The sooner we finish, the sooner we can get out of here."
It sounds like they'll be traveling overnight again. It's something that's grown familiar over the years, but Dean still likes to be able to stretch at night, and that's not really an option when he has to share the cramped backseat with Sammy. Privately, he can admit to himself that he misses having his own bed and his own room; as much as he loves his brother, he can't help but want his own space sometimes, even if that's not really an option anymore.
But he'd never tell his dad that, not when the man tries so hard despite the situation he was thrown into forcing him to do this stuff sometimes. He knows he should be grateful that they get a motel most nights at all, even if he has to share a bed with his baby brother, so he keeps his head down and his mouth shut, and tries to get Sammy to do the same.
Still, he can't help but miss the way things used to be, even if he knows his mom is never coming back and neither is the life he used to have for those four short years.
Casting one last look into the woods at the tall grass and trees with the blinking lights of what might be fireflies or something else, Dean turns back around and goes to find firewood, hoping the flame might help his heart feel a little less cold.
-
The gun sits heavily in his hands, but his aim doesn't waver in the slightest due to years of practicing with more weapons than most seasoned soldiers in the military would ever see in their lifetimes. The weight of the white handled pistol is comforting in that it's familiar, even if the bullets filling the chamber are not.
Witch-killing bullets are one of their newer innovations, a stroke of genius Sammy came up with when they had witch problems up to their nostrils. Dean's glad for them, since there's probably no monster he likes less than a witch, if only for how annoying the clean up is due to their collective insistence on using nasty spell ingredients collected from places Dean would rather not even think about.
It's not that all witches are bad, though. A lot of them are just regular people who dipped into dark magic for one reason or another; they can usually be talked into changing their paths with a little common sense and a threat here and there, no harm no foul. Others, however, are in it for the long run, and they need to be dealt with more permanently before innocent people pay the price.
That's the type of witch they're after now, unfortunately, and if the home they just broke into is any indication, she has a penchant for disgusting ingredients fished out from the bodies of all kinds of animals whose insides Dean never wanted to become so personally acquainted with.
"Who the hell cuts open a goldfish? The thing's, like, two inches long," he mutters to himself, lip curling up in disgust at the sight of tiny gutted fish laying on a table, their abdomens sliced open cleanly to harvest one microscopic organ or another. "Freakin' disgusting."
Sam doesn't say anything outwardly negative, but still grimaces at the sight. "I wonder what she's using them for. I've never seen any spell that needs something like that…"
Normally, he'd take the time to tease his brother about his newfound witchcraft fetish (he's sure their dad would be turning in his grave), but before he can, there's a slight noise upstairs, like someone trying to close a door without making a sound and failing. Sam and Dean exchange a look before heading towards the steps, with Dean in front and Sam just behind him watching his back, a familiar formation they always fall back on.
They stop in front of the door at the top of the steps, standing on either side of it and making sure they don't cast a shadow beneath the door that can alert the witch they're near, a trick they learned decades ago. By contrast, the witch has no such reservations and is clearly quickly but quietly jumping from place to place behind the protection of the door, if the shadow is anything to go by.
They wordlessly look at each other, both mentally counting to three before they both spin around to face the door, which Dean promptly kicks in so they can storm into the room, guns held up in position before they even spot the witch crouched on the floor in front of a spellbook and a bowl of slimy fish bits.
See what he means? Witches are freakin' gross.
"No!" she shrieks when she sees them, waving her hand and sending them both flying into the nearest wall, though they bounce back up pretty quickly and are on her again. In the time that they were down, she managed to mix up some sort of a goo in her bowl and hold it up menacingly. "Back off! Don't come any closer, or else!"
"Or else what?" Dean huffs, cocking his gun. "You'll kill another guy to steal their eyeballs and their pet fish?"
"You don't know who you're messing with!" the witch insists, eyes wide and panicked, and when Dean ignores that and goes to fire, she throws the bowl at him, the sludge within landing right on his head before the bowl clatters noisily to the floor.
In that moment, a few things happen: three gunshots ring out from Sam's gun, with at least one hitting the witch; the witch drops to the floor with another shriek; and Dean falls to his knees before he can even comment on how gross that is, gun hitting the floor and adding another shot to the mix that lodges itself somewhere in the drywall by the sound of it.
He's only vaguely aware of these things happening before everything goes dark, and the next thing he knows, he's outside somewhere and surrounded by tall green stalks that tower over him. Great—unless these are cornstalks, it looks like the witch teleported him to another planet. At least this one has a breathable atmosphere and a familiar warmth from the sun.
He stands up and starts walking uneasily, setting off in a random direction and hoping for the best. He nearly trips over something hard poking out of the ground, and when he kicks some of the dirt away from its base, he finds an acorn the size of a mini fridge. Did the whole world and everything in it grow…?
A faint rustling takes attention away from the acorn and he turns towards it, only to instantly regret it when he comes face to face with a mouse the size of a tank, a faceful of whiskers and teeth as sharp as knives getting dangerously close to him. Dean turns on a dime and runs to hide in the grass, but the mouse bounds after him, sniffing obnoxiously and no doubt wondering what he might taste like as it easily overtakes him and his admittedly unimpressive pace.
Hysterically, he wonders if his last ever thought will be the realization that the world didn't grow and he's the one that shrunk, or that he should've been running in the mornings with Sam and hitting the gym and he might've been able to avoid death by mouse.
Just as a bunch of whiskers brush over his head and all seems lost, something scoops him up from under the arms, and his feet leave the ground. No, he mentally corrects himself as he squeezes his eyes shut, it'll be death by bird instead, because the universe hates him and knows he's not crazy about heights.
"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap," he hisses to himself, hands coming up to grab at the warm arms wrapped around his torso—wait, what?
Dean looks up at his captor to see the underside of a rather human-looking jaw that's connected to a human neck and a human chest, and something in him relaxes…only to instantly tense back up when he realizes this can't be a human, not the least of which because the guy has two pairs of translucent wings attached to his back, like something he ripped right off of a dragonfly.
"What the hell? Hey, put me down!" A buzzing noise emits from his captor and—yeah okay, definitely not human. Great. "Where are you taking me?!"
Demanding answers doesn't get him anywhere and the creature doesn't do more than look down at him with a tilted head and squinty eyes. Dean's heart doesn't like the idea of his captor's eyes not locked onto the road, so he shuts his trap before they wreck into a tree or a bird or something, figuring it can wait until they land.
It seems to take hours for the creature to slow down and hover over a tree branch, and Dean doesn't waste a second from yanking himself free the second he's able to slip out of his captor's hold, watching the guy touch down beside him and his wings fold away neatly behind his back.
"Okay, what the hell was that? Where are we?" he demands, and the creature blinks at him with unnaturally bright blue eyes. "Can you even understand me? Ugh, of course you can't. Great. Just great. I get kidnapped by something I can't even talk to. Look, thanks for the save with the mouse back there, but you're nuts if you think I'm going anywhere with you."
The creature makes another sound like a buzzing bee, and Dean scowls, throwing his hands up and gesturing vaguely to his own ears. Distantly, he wonders how smart it is to potentially piss this thing off, but he's already stressed out enough as is—sue him.
"Look, I have no clue what you're saying, pal—if you're even saying anything. Don't know if you even have enough brain cells to rub together to—"
Suddenly, the creature's eyes light up and it comes uncomfortably close. Before he can do more than blink, a hand lands on his left shoulder and two soft lips press against him for a second, as if to distract him from the sudden searing pain in his shoulder—
The second it's over, Dean takes a step back and hisses, "What the hell did you just do to me?"
"I gave you some of my magic," the creature replies calmly, squinting at him. "Isn't it obvious?"
"No, it is in fact not obvious." He puts a shaky hand to his shoulder, but the pain is gone like it was never there in the first place. He has no idea what to do with that, so he gets defensive and jabs a finger in the guy's face, saying sternly, "Don't ever do that again."
The creature's frown deepens, but he nods seriously. "All right."
"Okay. Good." That's when his brain catches up with him and his head snaps back over to the creature. "Wait, how come I can understand you now? What did you do to me?"
The squint comes back full force. "I just told you. I gave you some of my magic, transferring my linguistic knowledge onto you and vice versa."
"You, uh…huh?" he says dumbly, feeling particularly slow even if the creature is nice enough not to mention it, nice enough to remain patient, if more than a little puzzled.
"I imposed my knowledge of Enochian onto you so that we could communicate, and I can also speak human now."
"And why didn't you do that earlier?"
"I didn't realize you were attempting to communicate. It sounded quite nonsensical."
Dean only has a vague idea what the hell is going on, but lets the topic drop; there are bigger fish to fry. "That's great and all, but, uh, why don't you take me back now? Not that your company isn't great, but I gotta find my brother to sort this whole mess out."
"Your brother…the mouse?" the smaller man asks slowly.
"What? No? Why would I be talking about the thing that tried to kill me?"
"Nothing else was around."
"You don't know that," Dean insists, but before he can find another topic to bitch about, he hears something rush overhead and finally takes the opportunity to observe his surroundings; man, his dad must be rolling in his grave with Dean forgetting Hunter 101… "Uh…where are we?"
His eyes dart around from place to place to find what he can only describe as a paradise in the leaves a short distance away, with small buildings and houses on nearly every branch. More creatures like his captor (or maybe 'savior' would be more fitting, but screw that) are flying around in the dying sunlight everywhere he looks, appearing very much like normal people despite the setting and the wings on their backs framed by even stranger clothes made of leaves, flowers, or pieces of pinecones or mushrooms.
"Who are you?" Dean finally has the sense to ask. "What are you? Where are we?"
"I'm Castiel, and I am a fairy. I brought you to my village because…I didn't know where else to take you where you would be safe," the guy—Castiel—explains, his face and neck gaining some color that makes him seem all the more human.
Before Dean can respond, he hears a faint buzzing noise like a bug zipping around, and a little annoying insect of a fairy stops in front of them to wildly ruffle Castiel's already messy hair. "Well well well, what do we have here? Another pet, Cassie?"
"Dean is not a pet," the other fairy replies firmly and—whoa, wait…
"How do you know my name?"
The annoyance on Castiel's face gives way for a sheepish look. "I absorbed it when learning to speak your human language. I believe it was a mutual exchange, although you may not have recognized my name as being a name."
Now that he mentions it, Dean does seem to have memories he doesn't actually remember focusing on the fairy in front of him, including a few embarrassing ones when Castiel was younger and would crash into birds when learning to fly or all the times he brought bumblebees home as particularly large pets, much to the dismay of his brother, Gabriel—
He turns to the other fairy with the annoying smirk only an older brother that just gained the ammo of the century could have and says flatly, "And you must be Gabriel."
"Guilty as charged." The smirk drops for a second and what Dean instinctively knows is an uncharacteristically serious expression comes to Gabriel's smug face. "Cassie, this is a bad idea and you know it. No offense, but your boy toy sticks out like a sore thumb dressed in that clown suit—"
"Hey!"
"—and you're not exactly known for your ability to lie," Gabriel continues like Dean hadn't said a word. "What happens when someone starts asking questions?"
"I'll…I'll say that Dean is a fairy and he lost his wings in a terrible accident." Castiel nods decisively, and Dean exchanges a look with Gabriel of all people, both of them instantly knowing that this plan is doomed to fail, even when the fairy adds with another determined little nod, "It's very tragic."
"I'll bet," is all Gabriel lobs back. "Either way, if you want to avoid immediate persecution, I recommend changing out of those goofy clothes."
Dean wants to be offended on principle, but he knows the importance of laying low and blending in, so he keeps his trap shut as Castiel thanks his brother with a hug before scooping Dean back up in his arms to carry him through the village. They get a few strange glances, but Cas is a fast enough flyer that they can avoid anyone getting too good of a look, at least.
Soon enough, they land in front of a small house made of vibrant green leaves with flower petals as shingles. It looks so delicate, but Castiel doesn't treat it as such and simply leads him inside. There's a small living room area with what might be a fairy version of a couch made out of balled up grasses, and a second room with a bed on either side; this must be where Gabriel and Castiel live.
The fairy steers him over to what might be a dresser and flips through a few of the garments inside, many of which are made of leaves or something equally grassy and allergy-triggering. Castiel eyeballs him for a second, tilting his head. "Um…what size do you wear?"
"I'm a medium. Large sometimes, if it's on the smaller size."
Castiel looks at him like he grew a second head, but doesn't comment and continues leafing through the clothes before finally folding one up, saying, "I believe this will fit you."
The garment in question is a glorified leaf tunic with little to no covering in the back, obviously making room for wings Dean doesn't have. He grimaces at that and looks around for the rest of the outfit, realizing quickly that fairies don't seem to wear shoes if Castiel's bare feet are anything to go by—or underwear, for that matter. Great.
He shoos the fairy away and reluctantly changes into the strange clothes, though he decidedly keeps his boxer briefs on, thank you very much. While he's dressing, he can't help but wonder if the fairy equivalent of putting itching powder in someone's clothes is swapping out an outfit with one made of poison ivy. After a moment, he realizes that thought must've come from one of Castiel's memories of Gabriel doing such a thing to him; sounds about right…
The leaf tunic (he is not calling it a dress, even if the one Castiel is wearing is unambiguously a dress) is a bit smaller than he would've liked and clearly made for someone shorter than him, and it's breezy in places he would've rather lived his entire life without experiencing, but it's not actually all that bad. It's soft but sturdy and seems able to take a hit or two.
While looking around the room for a mirror he probably won't find, he spots what looks an awful lot like a bee stuffed animal made out of weaved flower petals on Castiel's bed. Another memory pops into his mind, this one of Gabriel giving the thing to a younger Castiel and getting hugged enthusiastically in response, and he smiles to himself. Maybe he's just getting soft, but fairies don't seem to be all that different from people in a lot of ways…
He eventually gives up on his search for a mirror and heads out into the living room, finding Castiel preparing two tiny cupfuls of water, scooped up from a barrel of dewdrops stored outside the glass-less window. The fairy glances over his shoulder and asks, "Dandelion, daisy, or daffodil?"
"Uh…what?"
"Pollen. For your tea."
Dean stares, searching for any hint of something that would imply Castiel is kidding, but as per usual for the overly serious fairy, there is none. Instead, Castiel just stands there and his hands begin to glow and the cups of water he's holding start bubbling. "Daffodil, I guess…"
Some part of him instinctively knows that kind is considered good, and the source becomes obvious when Castiel mumbles to himself, "Good choice. That's my favorite…"
The whole thing where they kind of share memories is beyond strange to Dean, but he also can't help but find it fascinating, so when their…hot pollen tea is apparently ready, he asks, "How many of my memories do you have?"
"I'm not sure. Certain things seem to remind me of things only you have seen or done, but I cannot remember something at will without knowing it is already there." The fairy sips at the pollen water, but Dean doesn't dare try his yet. "For example, I seem to have many new memories surrounding someone named Sam, who I am assuming is your brother, as these memories appear most frequently when I think of my own brother, Gabriel."
"Yeah, Sammy's my little brother. Well, not so little, unlike Gabe, but…yeah."
"He likes…tea," Castiel continues slowly, looking more like he's solving a crossword puzzle than like he's having a conversation. "Humans apparently…enjoy their tea prepared with entire leaves as opposed to pollen grains. I suppose that makes sense, given that humans are so much larger and pollen would be difficult to obtain."
"How do you guys even get it? I thought bees and stuff collected it."
"They do. We just happen to keep bees as, uh…livestock, I suppose. We give them a home to return to with leftover pollen grains that we can collect and consume."
"Do you eat the honey they make too?"
Castiel tilts his head, looking like a confused puppy. "Honey?"
"The weird gooey stuff they make. Humans like to put it on their food, like pancakes and stuff. Or in their tea."
It's then that he realizes it might be a lot more difficult for a fairy to harvest honey from territorial bees than it is for a human, especially with the invention of bee suits and bee smokers, but it can't be that much tougher than it is for a human to milk a cow or something, right? Cas did say bees are like livestock up here, after all…
While Dean tries and fails to picture bees to scale compared to the size of a fairy, Castiel urges him to drink his tea and remain hydrated, something Dean reluctantly does. To his surprise, the drink isn't actually half bad. The pollen grains must've melted in the liquid enough to be unnoticeably safe for a faint hint of something fresh and earthy mixed into what is otherwise just a cup of hot water.
"Look, I…I really appreciate what you're doing for me, buddy—giving me clothes and something to drink and stuff—but I really gotta find my brother. I mean, you know how it is, right? Wouldn't you wanna get back to Gabe as quickly as possible if you guys were separated?"
"Yes, but…" Castiel's eyes dart over to the window as he lowers his voice, "isn't it getting a little late for that? It would be safer to search for him in the morning."
"He might be gone in the morning," Dean insists, knowing that he and Sam were trained for years to never stay in the same area after killing something. That's just asking for the cops to show up at their door with questions they can't answer. "Can't we at least look around a little? Just for a few minutes?"
Castiel noticeably hesitates, but eventually nods and stands. "All right."
When they get outside the door, the fairy scoops him up and carries him bridal style (he's suddenly glad they're too small to easily see on the off chance that they do find Sam) back to the place where they first met, which is apparently a field of tall grass that's probably crawling in demon mice and things that eat demon mice and—
Dean's suddenly glad he's not the one flying, because he would've lost his nerve for sure by now. Hell, he's not even sure how the fairy can navigate in the dark of night, even if Castiel seems to give off a faint, soft glow like an old flashlight hidden under three layers of blankets, just barely bright enough to be seen at all.
In fact, the glow is familiar enough that Dean is taken back to a time in his childhood when he saw something similar, when he was chased by a werewolf and saved by what could've only been a fairy with a good enough heart to want to protect a scared little kid. Not for the first time, he wonders if maybe not all monsters are bad, no matter what his dad thought.
The soft buzzing coming from Castiel's dragonfly-like wings is the only thing he hears for a long time before he starts paying attention to what's around him, forcing himself to ignore his fear of heights to look around.
Crickets scrape their legs together in the tall grass below, singing their repetitive songs in hopes of making their nights a little less lonely. Some cicadas seem to be doing the same, their voices echoing from high above in a way that doesn't seem nearly as annoying as it does when Dean is not so fun-sized. Even the croaking bullfrogs circled around some body of water somewhere are almost…nice. Fireflies dot the grass with lights that periodically blink on and off in a pattern Dean doesn't know, but instinctively recognizes, something he wonders is from Castiel.
A few fireflies and larger moths trail after them, in fact, obviously drawn in by the light the fairy naturally emits, but Castiel doesn't pay them any mind, probably used to them by now. The soft glow of the moon seems to follow their journey through the grass as they fly near enough for just the ends of the taller blades of grass to brush against them.
The warm summer breeze blows through Dean's hair and uncomfortably airy tunic, and he glances up at Castiel with the intention of bitching about it, only for the words to get trapped in his throat.
Though he can't see the fairy's entire face, from this angle, he looks ethereal, already messy hair getting even more tousled and his figure illuminated by a golden glow that should make Dean think of how his distinctive other-ness makes him a monster, but instead makes him look…magical.
He nearly voices his thoughts, but decides against it, not wanting to break the comfortable near-silence settled over them, only broken by the gentle ambiance of the forest and all its inhabitants living peacefully amongst one another. Why did Castiel want to wait until morning to come out here again?
Then, because the universe hates him, he gets his answer in the form of a big, sticky tongue darting out and landing about two centimeters from his tiny body, and he lets out a very manly shriek in response.
"W-what the hell was that!"
"A frog," Castiel grits out with a pinch of annoyance, like this is an everyday occurrence and not something from a nightmare; suddenly, the gentle ambiance of the forest sounds more like the monotonous dirge of a funeral march—theirs, in particular, with unflattering leaf dresses as their shrouds. "They think we're insects, no matter how many times we've explained to them that we are not."
Dean can't help but let out a hysterical sort of laugh, because of course this is how he dies. He's fought werewolves and vampires and demons and creatures right out of indigenous folklore or Greek myths and everything in between and a freakin' frog is what does him in.
Judging by the brief glance Dean dared to get of the thing, the behemoth is easily four times their size with a mouth that opens like a hinge and a deep, threatening croak that seems to vibrate the air around them. His grip on Cas' neck tightens, but the fairy doesn't bat an eye, too busy focusing on his fancy flight patterns that only barely let them get away from the frog's mouth before that sticky tongue strikes again, hitting a hair to the left this time thanks to a last second dodge on Cas' part.
When the bullfrog is a comfortable distance away and firmly in the rearview mirror, Dean lets his grip slacken a little, only to hold on even tighter when a high pitched screech echoes from above. He barely has enough time to snap his head up towards the source of the sound before a freakin' bat the size of a small building is swooping down and nearly gobbles them up.
"Dude! Why does everything in your world wanna eat you?!" Somehow, he still has enough presence of mind to add hastily, face uncomfortably warm as unwelcome thoughts pop into his simple monkey brain, "N-not like that!"
Castiel just ignores him, which—yeah, okay, smart move on his part, since focusing on keeping them out of anything's mouth is way more important than listening to whatever comes from Dean's trap. Good to know at least one of them has a handful of functioning brain cells right now.
"Did we lose him?" he asks when Castiel slows down slightly, right before landing on a few blades of grass that only barely dip under their added weight. "Cas? You okay?"
"I am weary," the fairy replies, holding a hand to his chest. Worried, Dean reaches over and does the same without thinking, eyes widening when he feels Cas' heart pounding away, matching the growing panic in his eyes despite his attempt at maintaining a calm demeanor. "Forgive me, Dean. I'm unaccustomed to, uh, bringing a passenger with me during flight."
He winces and tries not to feel too guilty. "Yeah, sorry. Can't be easy hauling my fat ass around, huh?"
"It's not that you're heavy so much as that my wings…simply are not built for it."
"So more like giving a little kid an extended piggyback ride. Not exactly heavy, but they definitely weigh on you after a while."
He can almost feel Cas searching his memories and probably landing on a few Sam-centric ones, judging by the faint smile that comes to the other man's face. "Yes, exactly."
Dean returns the smile with one of his own that might be a little wiped out from their unexpected adventure, his own racing pulse slowly returning to normal. Around them, the crickets and the fireflies seem to come back out of hiding, and all is calm again, the area peaceful and faintly glowing once more.
Just as he's about to suggest heading back out while all is calm, he hears a low, distinctive cooing noise from high above, seconds before a huge owl makes a swipe for his head with talons longer than his entire body, and suddenly everything sucks again as he abandons all dignity and scrambles back into Castiel's arms.
"Son of a bitch."
-
Dean wakes up with something halfway to a scream on the tip of his tongue, eyes flying open and hand darting underneath the motel's stiff pillow to grab his gun and—
The panic is overtaken by confusion when he doesn't feel a gun, or even a pillow, prompting him to look around. Oh, right. He's on a crappy little couch made of flower petals, because he's just a few inches tall now and his only company is a fairy who may or may not have a heart problem. Well, and the fairy's dickhead brother, who's currently giving him funny looks over the rim of what might be more pollen tea.
"Bad dream?" the douchebag pipes up, arching an eyebrow at him, like it's some inconsequential thing and Dean's making a big deal out of nothing.
"None of your beeswax, man," he grumbles back, sitting up and shoving the long, crinkly leaf blanket off of him to stretch his cramped legs; this couch was not made for a full-grown man, even if his version of 'fully grown' is just a few inches right now. "You guys got a bathroom around here? I gotta take a leak."
"How eloquent. You treat all your hosts like this?"
"Only the douchy ones," he maintains, marching out the door without sparing Gabriel another glance.
He holds no illusions that Gabriel wants him anywhere near their home—mostly because Dean knows he'd be in the same boat if he and Sam suddenly had a houseguest—and that the only reason he's here is because of Castiel's soft heart and puppy-dog eyes, the weakness of all older brothers, no matter how tough they think they are.
As such, he doesn't really see a reason to play nice with Gabriel when he has no doubt that he would've been gone yesterday if the older fairy had anything to say about it. Luckily for him, Cas is the one calling the shots, and it's not hard to be nice to him when he makes an effort to be cordial and helpful in return, even when it'd probably be better and safer to turn Dean and his stupid requests down.
Last night was definitely an eye-opener for him as far as just how dangerous it is to be so small, not the least of which because of just how bite-sized he is now. To think that there are entire villages of creatures who survive that and more without batting an eye…
Well, he guesses that some experience with the area would help in that regard. Castiel clearly knew just how moronic it was to go flying at night, and yet, he'd done it anyway, because he's a stupid son of a bitch who's dangerously compassionate towards wayward strays of another species. Geez, no wonder Gabriel's pissed…
But even if he doesn't understand Castiel's sudden unwavering loyalty, he still appreciates it, knowing he'd be dead meat without it, knowing he'd never be able to find Sam and get back to life as he knows it if he were all alone. Hell, he'd probably be in that mouse's stomach or intestines or something right not if not for the fairy, so maybe it's worth it to try to show his appreciation.
He runs into the perfect way to do just that while wandering through the fairy village as far as he can, traveling along branches for as far as they'll take him before leaping to an adjacent one, glad that at least this doesn't require wings.
Last night, after just barely escaping the pincers of a praying mantis with their lives, Castiel had explained that he works as some sort of a…bee rancher (he suspects the actual terms were lost in translation, though Dean just equates it to a cowboy of sorts) and that he has to be up early to release the bees.
Judging by the funny look Gabriel had shot his brother, it was fair to assume that Castiel wouldn't be back anytime soon, since his apparent fondness for the bees is something of a running joke in the household if Dean's stolen memories are anything to go by.
As such, he decides to meet Castiel out there instead of twiddling his thumbs for half the day waiting for the fairy to return like an overly clingy housewife, and isn't it just his luck that he finds a few small, white flowers no bigger than his face (and what a world he lives in that that's considered small now) on his way?
He travels the rest of the unseen path to a corral he's never actually seen but instinctively knows with a pep in his step, feeling the urge to whistling but deciding against it in fear of discovering that's not something fairies do. He already looks like enough of an oddball as is and he definitely doesn't need to add to that.
He must not be minding his surroundings as well as he could be while trying to see around the bundle of flowers in his arms, because it's not long before he bumps into someone, fighting the urge to scream and curse at them when his brain reminds him this isn't a busy city street and he's the interloper here.
"Uh, sorry," he mutters instead, trying to steer around the fairy, only to pause when they start talking to him.
"Well, wherever could you be going with such a bouquet?" the strange fairy asks, inspecting him like he's a bug under a magnifying glass. "Why, you wouldn't happen to be Castiel's beloved new houseguest, would you?"
Dean definitely does not feel his entire body and soul lighten at those words and the fact that Cas apparently never shuts up about him, instead huffing back, "What's it to you?"
"Oh, you misunderstand me. I'm Balthazar, and sweet Castiel is my dear cousin." The word sounds weird, as if it's another gap he'd mentally filled in, as if there's no word in Enochian for such a thing. "He spoke of you so fondly today, going on and on about this new fairy he met."
That gets his attention as he focuses on a single word: fairy. He knows without having ever been there that Cas is an atrocious liar, but that unnecessary emphasis is still throwing him off… "Oh, yeah?"
"What village are you from? Obviously not from around here, I'd assume, given the unsightly state of your garments and, well, that." Balthazar waves a finger around to the bundle of flowers Dean's holding, making him scowl. "Oh no, you simply must get rid of that—it's terribly old-fashioned, you see, and, well, you wouldn't want to look bad to our dear Castiel, would you?"
"And what would you suggest?"
Balthazar buzzes off for all of three seconds before returning with a single bright orange flower that's almost too big to carry. "Oh yes, that would do nicely. Castiel is simply going to love it."
Dean's head is all but spinning in confusion, but he still nods along slowly and finds the strength to grit out, "Thanks."
"Of course, of course. Here, I'll even point you to where he is—that is where you're off to, isn't it?"
"Uh…yep." Damnit, is he that obvious?
Either way, he lets this…Balthazar guy all but drag him by the elbow until they reach a huge structure composed entirely of hexagons, which doesn't bode well for Dean's minor bee allergy. Still, how bad can it be?
Very bad, apparently. He's really gotta learn to keep his big mouth shut or else the universe will take it personally.
The second he steps through the hexagonal archways, huge bees the size of stripey school buses swarm all over him like overly curious dogs, and he just freezes in complete shock, not daring to kick them off of him or anything when their stingers alone are as big as his forearm.
"C-Cas—" he squeaks out, and that's when a familiar head of messy hair appears in the corner of his eye over one of the bee's fuzzy heads. "Cas!"
"Dean? Why are you holding that? Don't you know that bees love those?"
He thinks he's never been more relieved than when Castiel takes the flower from him and flies off somewhere as a train of bees tail after, only to be proven wrong when a tidalwave of relief washes over him as the fairy scoops him up under the arms and flies him a comfortable distance away until they're resting on what might be a support beam for the hive or a platform built for supervisors. Do bees have supervisors?
"Dean?" A gentle hand brushes against his face, and he blinks, eyes wide when he finds Castiel about two inches from his face. The fairy seems entirely unbothered and runs a hand over his forehead again, two fingers glowing faintly. "Are you all right? Your heart rate is elevated."
"Oh, I think loverboy is just fine," Balthazar voices from below. Crap, how long has he been standing around like a bump on a log?
"You set me up!" Dean hisses, getting angry instead of embarrassed because it's easier, standing up stiffly and pulling out of Castiel's worried hold. "What the hell are you playing at?"
"Balthazar?" Castiel calls, tilting his head nearly sideways, tone holding nothing but curiosity and faint suspicion while Dean's is filled with malice. "What did you do?"
"What, me? Why would you assume I did something?"
"Because you look like Gabriel does whenever he pulls a prank," Castiel grumbles back, crossing his arms. "What did you do?"
"I just gave your wingless friend a simple flower, that's all," Balthazar replies like the slippery snake Dean pegged him as within two seconds of meeting him. "Was that so wrong?"
Castiel just keeps on squinting, so Dean accuses, jabbing a finger in the smarmy dick's face, "You knew this would happen. Everybody here's just trying to kill me, aren't they? Well, it didn't work."
"Dean," Cas breathes, face white as a ghost and eyes as wide as saucers, "who is trying to kill you?"
"Everybody always has it out for me," he maintains, though his tone does soften the second he's no longer facing Balthazar. "Why should it be any different here?"
"Dean…"
He and Castiel lock eyes for a long moment, and in that time, Balthazar must make like a tree and get the hell out of Dodge, which is a good thing in Dean's book. It seems his original assumption that the only fairy around here that actually likes him being around is Castiel is even more true than he thought.
Not that he can really blame the creatures, given their secretive natures that keep them out of trouble and off a hunter's radar. Hell, Dean had never even heard of fairies from the hunter community before…which really doesn't bode well for him being found by Sam, does it?
Well, that's a thought best left on the mental back burner if he ever saw one…
Dean clears his throat awkwardly and tears his eyes away from Castiel's unnaturally bright baby blues. "So, this is the bee farm?"
That gets something halfway to a smile to pop up on Cas' usually stoic face. "Yes. We tend to their needs and assist their queen, and in return, they allow us to harvest the pollen attached to their bodies."
"And you never even touch the honey?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, it's just that humans like honey quite a bit and…" He waves a hand around the hive emphatically, saying, "Why don't I just show you? Can you go in here any deeper?"
Castiel scoops him up in another bridal carry and obediently flies deeper into the hive, and for a second, Dean is equal parts flattered and disbelieving, considering that his stupidity nearly got them killed multiple times last night by various woodland creatures with vendettas and big appetites. Cas really is way too trusting, isn't he? It's a good thing he's got that douchebag brother of his to look out for him…
The deeper they go into the hive, the more honey-filled hexagons of honeycomb Dean sees—and a fair amount of three dimensional sleeping bags for developing baby bees, which he only recognizes as such from Cas' fond memories of the fuzzy little bastards. For all he would've known beforehand, the things could've been stored prey encapsulated in honeycomb.
He points them towards an isolated section of the wall of honeycomb and has Castiel land before daring to touch the honey. It's as gooey and sticky as ever, but it still tastes sweet, if a little unusual due to the fact that it's completely raw.
Castiel's eyes fly open in alarm. "Dean?"
"What? It's good. Try some." At his encouraging nod, Castiel swipes a single finger through the raw honey, and his eyes light up in response to the taste, making Dean grin. "Good, right?"
"Are you certain the bees won't mind us taking some of their honey?" the fairy asks warily, even as he eyes up the honeycomb, like a kid in a candy store. "Bumblebees do not produce much of it, as we raise them for their ability to collect and bring back a large amount of pollen."
"Hey, it's not like we're taking all that much. I'm sure they won't mind."
Castiel nods slowly, but doesn't seem all that convinced. It's probably for the best, since in the next moment, a fat bee walks up to a nearby empty honeycomb and pukes its guts out—aaand Dean just lost his appetite.
Urging Castiel to leave is easy enough once he's had his fill of petting the fuzzy bee, who seems to like the sensation, if the soft buzzing is anything to go by (no wonder Cas wanted one as a pet). When they fly out of the hive, however, they're immediately stopped by some old, balding fairy with a scowl on his smug face.
"Castiel, would you mind explaining to me just what the hell you think you're doing?"
"Zachariah," his fairy returns, bringing them to the ground but not releasing Dean, which makes him wonder if Cas is gonna try to run. "Is there a problem?"
"The problem is that there's talk about how you let an outsider into our village to learn our secrets—and a wingless one at that. I mean, we all know you're broken, but I falsely assumed even you would have enough common sense to know not to do that."
Zachariah's eyes are locked onto Dean, lip curling up in apparent disgust, and Dean feels the need to say with a bit of a smirk, "Hey. I'm Dean."
"Charmed," the guy bites out, not sounding very charmed at all before addressing Castiel again. "Castiel, we've talked about this. Do I need to send you back to Naomi for more, erm, training?"
"Dean needed help. He had no one," Cas tries to say, but he's immediately cut off.
"My heart weeps for him, but I fail to see how that's our problem. Doesn't that worthless brother of yours ever keep you out of trouble?" Zachariah sighs, shaking his big ugly head, and fury rises within Dean despite his embarrassing position and his dislike of Gabriel, knowing from Cas' memories that Gabriel really is a good guy who tries his best for his baby brother, just like Dean does. "I suppose it's my fault for expecting a blind man to teach you how to see, isn't it?"
"He won't stay long, Zachariah," Cas promises, just this side of desperate as Dean finally climbs out of his hold and gets onto his own two feet, though Cas' hand drifts towards his shoulder as if to get him to stay, as if Dean's planning on taking off when Castiel is, quite literally, his ride home. "He just needs somewhere to stay until he can get home."
"And let me guess—he has no expected departure date."
"Well, no, but—"
"Then he's going to be here far longer than I'm comfortable with," the bald fairy cuts in, flapping a dismissive hand in his and Cas' faces. "No, it'd be best if this fairy left before anyone caught sight of him and his…differences. I mean, we only barely tolerate yours, Castiel, and that's because you're at least somewhat useful. Well, when we throw you somewhere that you can't muck things up, that is."
This time, Dean can't hold himself back and immediately snaps, "Hey, where the hell do you get off on putting Cas down? What, you tell him to roll over and he doesn't do it fast enough, so you kick him in the head? The guy loves those bees you guys keep probably more than anyone else in the village, which is probably 'cause the bees appreciate him way more than any of you sons of bitches—"
"My, the mouth on that one. I only understood about every twelve and a half words out of your mouth. It figures the weird broken ones would stick togethe—"
As with many things in his life, Dean doesn't think, he just acts, leaning in and slugging Zachariah in the smug face. Also like most things in his life in particular, it doesn't end well, since Zachariah's expression turns stormy and his hands start glowing in a way that's a hell of a lot more menacing than when Cas does it.
Before the other fairy can take more than a few staggered, furious steps forward, Castiel's grabbing him under the armpits again and is off in a flash, zipping away from their pursuer…who just so happens to have wings and decides to chase after them. Great.
Luckily, Zachariah is visibly old and slow, and Cas easily outflies him, leaving him well in the pixie dust where he belongs. Unluckily, this village is small enough that everyone probably knows where Castiel lives, so it's not like their trouble won't catch up to them. That doesn't mean it has to catch them now though.
"Head for the field!" he calls out, and it says something about their relationship that Cas doesn't question him and just nods, pausing just long enough to manuever Dean into his arms for a more supportive carry before they're off.
As much as Dean bitches about a fear of heights (to the very select few that he mentioned the fear to, at least), there's something undeniably exhilarating about flying, especially when he's not the one doing any of the work. It definitely helps that he feels super secure in Cas' arms in a way he's never felt around another person, let alone in such an inherently vulnerable position.
And Cas is fast, easily outflying any predator or other fairy that crosses their path—which is good, seeing as how there are a lot of them.
The field is different in the daylight, but no less dangerous, since half a dozen starlings waste no time to go for Dean's head. Castiel's dragonfly wings just beat a little faster and they soon tire out any pesky birds that chase after them, just like they outfly ancient fairies with scowls carved into their faces like pissed off marble statues.
Cas zips right through the tall blades of grass below, flying low enough to the ground to send bugs scattering like they'd just dropped a nuclear bomb over top of their home. The sun shines through the leaves of the trees that grow more and more sparse the farther out they go, out past the birds and into the territory of some larger animals hopefully less keen on eating them.
He lets out an exilerated laugh when they fly right through a deer's antlers while the thing is munching on some grass, not knowing that a couple of bug-sized dumbasses just zipped right through its massive rack. When he glances up with the intent of asking to land on the thing's antler or at least take another trip through them, he sees Cas' face split into a wide grin, like he's having the time of his life, and Dean feels his own smile widen in response.
Cas seems to have the same idea as him and weaves between another deer's antlers while it's eating before dipping a little lower to race a rabbit that's bolting across the forest floor, outpacing the animal only when it pauses to look around and tip its ears around like a satellite. A squirrel darts up a tree with an acorn in its mouth, and Castiel flies right over its head and its bushy tail before it can do much more than blink like an idiot while Dean laughs airily like an even bigger idiot, and Cas smiles like the biggest idiot of them all.
Soon enough, the dragonfly wings that carry them so fast and so far slow down, and their owner seems pretty wiped out too, so Dean points out a potential landing place on a tree branch hopefully free of birds, bats, and frogs, and Castiel flies them in and lands with the gentleness of a flower petal landing on the grass.
"That was some fancy footwork," Dean praises the second his feet are on the ground—er, branch, which immediately becomes a seat for the two of them and their shaky legs. "Would you believe I'm actually kinda scared of heights? I mean, not too long ago, I could hardly even set foot on an airplane, but look at me now. I don't think I've ever felt so…free!"
Despite his obvious exhaustion, Cas beams in response, verbalizing unnecessarily, "That makes me very happy."
That big, stupid grin comes to Dean's face again, but he doesn't bother fighting it; it's just them out here, after all. "And that makes me happy."
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. We're…we're friends, right?"
The term doesn't quite feel right, even though it definitely should by now. He feels closer to Cas than he ever has to anyone besides his brother, and he's only known the guy for a couple of days. He's never put so much trust in who should logically feel like nothing but a stranger, but he can't help but feel so freakin' safe when Cas is there.
But the term still doesn't quite fit, almost like it isn't enough instead of being too much. Dean chalks it up to the fact that Cas is technically a monster, even if he feels more human than most people Dean knows, if a little on the awkward side. He's man enough to admit that maybe his dad wasn't all-knowing when he denounced anything inhuman as being somehow lesser, but old habits die hard, so maybe he's still subconsciously feeling that way.
It's a defense mechanism at this point. Monsters have a nasty habit of turning on people they were once close to, and Dean's just…keeping his enemies closer, right? That's the only reason he's letting the fairy fly him around everywhere, having the time of their lives and doing things Dean never imagined possible…
And yet, his heart all but melts when Cas' eyes widen and he asks softly, "Friends?"
The awkwardness never seems to get any less endearing, but Dean still asks, not wanting to step on any toes or put down a foreign culture he only knows bits and pieces of, "Uh…yeah. Is that…like, a thing to fairies, or…?"
"To most, yes. But I've never really had a friend before," Cas explains, looking a little like he might cry. "I'm not very well liked in my village, as you've probably realized by now." The fairy turns away to look at his own hands now, avoiding eye contact, and Dean wonders if it's to keep the tears from falling. "That's…why I still live with Gabriel, actually. Most fairies have their own homes by the time they grow from adolescence, but…"
Memories that aren't his of facing constant rejection and hostility, of fairies turning their noses up and refusing to build a house for an 'invalid,' of rude words and assumptions and a heavy dose of blatant ableism face Cas at every corner throughout his youth and following him into adulthood flood Dean's mind.
Cas has been turned away from the other fairies and rejected by their society because he doesn't quite fit in, and Gabriel stepped in and added another bed for a dejected Cas, who was crushed by the ones he's supposed to be able to count on, and who still hasn't recovered enough now, being persecuted as 'mentally defective' because he thinks a little differently.
It makes Dean's blood boil, but a part of him does relax knowing that Gabriel was there for him at least; no matter how much of a dick the guy is, he can respect the fact that the fairy always sticks up for his baby brother, so maybe he's not that bad.
"Well, uh, you do now," he says awkwardly, and Cas' face goes a little pink, but he uncharacteristically doesn't try to reestablish eye contact, so Dean admits, "Y'know, earlier, I wasn't trying to give the bees any flowers. They were for…someone else?"
"Who?" the fairy asks quietly, and Dean stares at him until the smaller man blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh. For me?"
"No, for my left elbow. Of course for you, buddy," Dean laughs, bumping into Cas' shoulder with his own. "I…wanted to thank you and stuff. For helping me out. I know it's probably not the easiest job, and now I saw that some people aren't so happy about it either, but…"
"It's my pleasure, Dean. Anything for a…friend."
Cas smiles softly, and Dean smiles back, glad that he's not completely alone in this strange new world and struggling to get back to the life he knows.
At this point, Dean's starting to wonder if it'll even be possible to find Sam again, since Cas can't just fly out forever and they might not even be going in the right direction. He has no idea where the nearest human settlement is, and until they can even find that much, they're kind of boned. For the moment, however, Dean's content to sit out on the tree branch with his fairy by his side, letting the world pass them by until the next predator swoops in to try to kill them.
They leave earlier this time, and Dean doesn't dare question Cas' sudden skittishness when the sun gets low in the sky, instead enjoying the thrill of the wind in his hair and two arms as his seatbelt, dedicated to keeping him safe and secure. They land outside Cas' house just before dark and share a private sort of smile before heading in…only to immediately pause in the doorway when they find Gabriel on the couch, nursing something stronger than a pollen grain tea.
"Gabriel," Cas greets slowly, stepping in first while Dean stands there like a stooge with just enough sense to shut the door. "Are you all right?"
"Your old pal Zach was here," Gabriel replies, running a hand over his face. "He was pissed, screaming his head off about Dean corrupting you and making you run away, and lo and behold, he really did make you run off. Where were you two all day?"
"In the field, looking for, um…"
Cas is a terrible liar and they all know it, so Dean jumps and adds, "We were looking around the spot I was dumped to try to see if there were any clues or anything. The sooner I get out of your hair, the better, right?"
Gabriel looks somewhat appeased by that, but Cas looks like someone just kicked sand in his face. Dean shrugs stiffly and glances away, knowing there's probably a better time and place to talk about the fact that he'll have to leave at some point.
"Don't do it again," Gabriel demands weakly, probably knowing his words will go in one ear and out the other, even as he stands up to pull Cas into a hug. "You hear me, Cassie? You can't just fly off like that, okay? I worry about you, kiddo."
"I know… It's just difficult for me to remember that sometimes."
Suddenly, Dean's hit with memories that aren't his about getting overwhelmed by one thing or another in the fairy village and taking off for a whole day, of Gabriel and sometimes even Balthazar arranging small search parties to look for Cas, of the other fairies muttering about how much better everything would be if Cas was never found. It's no secret that a lot of people don't like Cas here, and the realization of just how long that's been the case makes a familiar protective anger bubble up inside Dean.
He decides to give the two brothers their chick flick moment and asks, "Do you guys have a shower or something? I'm starting to stink like a Bradford pear tree."
He figures the fairies would appreciate the jab at a stinky flower that smells like somebody's crotch, but they don't even bat an eye as Gabriel directs him to go outside under the big 'drip leaf' out back. Apparently, those words are literal, since he finds a big leaf that will drip water over his head when he nudges the base with his foot.
Getting undressed outside is…disturbing, but he's just glad it's nighttime and less fairies are buzzing around to see him; maybe bathing is another thing fairies don't do in the dark. If the annoying moth that persistently settles on his shoulder is any indication, there's no shortage of interlopers at any time of day, he thinks wryly as he aggressively rubs his hands over his skin and hair, not daring to take a chance with the sappy substance that might be soap—
He freezes when his hand brushes over a raised patch of skin, and curiosity shakes hands with his old pal Dread as he looks at the spot, expecting a mosquito bite or fifty (oh God he can't even imagine how big a mosquito bite would be at this size, how big a mosquito would be) and instead finding what looks remarkably like a hand.
He must scream or make some sort of horrified noise in response, because Cas pokes his head around the corner with his head tilted in a question, which only makes Dean shriek, "Get out! Dude! I'm naked!"
"I heard you scream," the fairy persists, face creased in worry even as he politely turns away while Dean holds his discarded leaf tunic over the parts that count. "I-I thought you were being attacked. It's not often that a fairy waterfalls at night."
The strange term makes him raise an eyebrow, but he quickly steamrolls past it, knowing he'll be touched by the concern as soon as he's not freaking out about being seen in the shower. His only consolation at this point is that at least it's not Gabriel getting an eyeful of his bare ass…
"I found a freakin' handprint branded onto my shoulder," he spits out the second he manages to pull his clothes back on, figuring that's enough showering for today in light of his new discovery…which just so happens to be completely concealed by the partial sleeve of his leaf tunic. That explains a lot… Dean yanks the sleeve up and out of the way, demanding with more than a hint of panic, "What the hell is this?"
Cas looks at his newly uncovered shoulder and immediately goes pale, though he only verbally says, "Oh."
Dean's eyebrows rocket up to the stratosphere. "'Oh'? What the hell is oh supposed to mean?"
"Dean, I…" The fairy's face goes endearingly red and he suddenly avoids eye contact like the plague. "I'm sorry. Um. It was an accident?"
"Um? Mind explaining what the hell is going on?" he prompts, sick of all the half answers, but that just makes Cas squirrelier, so he softens his approach. "Hey, it's okay, all right? Just tell me what's going on. Talk to me, buddy."
"I…may have branded you with my magic," Cas whispers, eyes darting around either in guilt or in fear of being overheard. "I've never transferred knowledge with someone before, and…"
"And you messed it up a little," Dean finishes for him, trying to manage his tone; even if this is technically Cas' fault, it was an accident, no matter how crappy this whole thing is for Dean. "Awesome…"
"I really did not mean to. I've been told that my intonations and facial expressions do not always match my words, but please believe that I am being sincere," the smaller man continues with enough sincerity to kill a small village, making Dean wonder if fairies are just dense as bricks to apparently not be able to pick up on it. Or maybe those dickbags just like picking on Cas and making him feel bad.
"Of course I believe you," Dean assures, watching the way Cas' shoulders physically drop in visible relief, like a huge weight was just taken off of them, blue eyes big and hopeful. "If…I mean, what happens now? Does this fancy scar, like, mean anything or do anything, or…?"
"It means some of my magic is embedded in your soul," the fairy explains, looking sheepish but not as stricken with guilt. "My magic is what gives me life, so in a sense, as long as you're alive and still have my magic, I will never be deceased."
Alarmed, Dean grabs Cas' shoulders and pulls him closer, demanding, "Whoa, wait, what are you talking like that for, huh? Are you in trouble? Did something happen?"
"I-I mostly meant hypothetically, though it's not uncommon for a fairy's life to be cut short." More quietly, Cas adds, blinking up at him with a tentative sort of coyness, like he's not sure how his words will be taken, "From what I've seen in your memories, your own lifestyle has similar, albeit larger, dangers around every corner."
Dean freezes at that, but doesn't release Cas' shoulders, asking in a hushed tone of his own, "And you're…okay with all that?"
"With your potential death at the hands of the creatures you hunt? Of course not." The fairy's face twists into a deep, disturbed frown at the very thought. "But…I know how much that lifestyle means to you, and I can see how it helps those around you. You're a good man, Dean. A righteous man. It's…it's admirable."
He figures that's another thing that got lost in translation and shoulders past it, though he does loosen his hold on Cas' shoulders. "I meant the, uh…monster hunting part of it. I mean, you're…kinda the type of thing I would hunt, if you were endangering people, y'know?"
"Fairies tend to mind their own, uh, 'beeswax,' as humans say. We stay away from other creatures and avoid provoking them. It's easier that way."
Immediately, he can't help but wish more monsters were like that while also wondering if that's as true as Cas thinks it is, if other fairies are more picky and willing to stir up trouble than the mildmannered dork in front of him. From what he's seen, the other fairies seem to have no problem with tearing their own kind a new one, so what's stopping them from branching out?
In fact, that thought and the constant cold air on his back reminds him of something… "I've been meaning to ask. How exactly do wingless fairies work and why is it such a curse word around here? Is it like a birth defect, or somebody was dumb enough to get their wings eaten off by a mouse or what?"
Cas' eyes get all wide again, but he still explains, eyes darting around like he's afraid of being overheard, "A fairy loses their wings when they give up their magic. It's considered to be highly taboo because our magic is what gives us not only our powers, but our lives. It's… I believe it's akin to someone cutting a piece of themselves off for one reason or another, or even to suicide in your culture, as fairies often die when they do so."
"Oh. Huh." He looks over his shoulder at his wingless back. "So all the bitchy comments about me not having wings are like mocking an amputee?"
"One that willingly severed their own limb, but yes, I suppose so."
Ah, so the fairies think he's a mental patient two minutes away from another breakdown—a lucky one too, since he's still walking around instead of six inches under. "That…explains a lot."
"Yes. I've never seen a wingless fairy before, and it's likely that not many others in the village have, either. That's likely why you're provoking so many stares."
Yeah, that and the fact that he only mostly looks like a fairy, lacking the slightly pointed ears and the glowing hands and unnaturally bright eyes and all on top of the missing wings. Maybe it's a good thing the village is far enough out in the middle of nowhere, since one glimpse of a human and everyone in the village would know exactly what he is and what he isn't…
Before he can voice this, Gabriel's big head pokes around the corner, saying with a purposefully wobbly voice and a hand clamped over his eyes, though his fingers are spread to let him see despite the theatrics, "Is it safe to come in?"
"I'm decent," he snaps back simply, because while he can accept Cas barging in while he's under the 'drip leaf' shower, Gabriel is another story; he barely tolerates the guy normally. "You think I'd have a full conversation if I wasn't? What kind of a place are you guys running here?"
"Hey, anything goes after that banshee shriek. I only came out here to make sure Cassie didn't join you."
Dean's face suddenly feels like it's on fire despite the cool night air, but Cas just blinks impassively. "Why would I join Dean? There's only one drip leaf, and the stream is not large enough to accommodate two people."
"Let's keep it that way." Dean doesn't like the way Gabriel's looking at him, even if, as an older brother, he understands. "C'mon. Make like a spider and head inside before you two get gobbled up by a bird."
He should probably get used to hearing random nonsense words in the middle of otherwise normal sentences, but it never fails to throw him for a loop, even as he and Cas follow Gabriel back into the home. He can't help but wonder how many other things he should try to get used to—and how long he'll have to get used to them…