Burgers and Pixie Dust - 3

With a potential case ahead of them, the Winchesters didn’t dawdle. Their routine of picking up and hitting the road was a comforting constant in such a weird lifestyle, and they performed it like clockwork. Dean had barely pulled out of the parking lot of their latest stop before Sam was climbing out of his pocket towards his shoulder. He hardly registered the tiny, nimble movements, except to make sure he didn’t feel Sam slip.

“What’re the chances we leave a bunch of wood sprites behind only for Oscar to call the next day about some fairy trouble going on?” Dean complained.

Sam snickered. Suddenly, Dean’s delirious rant in the woods about wings came back to him, and he guessed his older brother was rueing that all over again. They’d met a lot of winged people since they teamed up.

“Hopefully whoever that was with him was honest,” Sam mused. “Fairies, actual ones, can be pretty tricky, if the lore is right. The sprites probably don’t compare at all. From here or from Aeternum.”

Dean mulled it over while he merged onto the highway. “We’ll find out in a couple hours. If they are, great, we’ll look into the case. If not, we can at least make sure Oscar’s alright.”

Sam agreed. No matter who that fairy claimed to be, they could cause trouble for their small friend all too easily. The sooner they could check things out for themselves, the better. Sam wasn’t even sure how many other people his size lived in that motel, or if Oscar’s family was still around.

He realized sheepishly that he’d never thought to ask. They had only ever dealt with Oscar so far, and he never brought it up. Usually he was too busy being nervous about the case that drew them to his motel home. When they’d gone for a simple visit, he’d spent the entire time amazed that they wanted to see him.

Oscar used to be wary of Dean, too. Sam probably wouldn’t forget his desperate first meeting with the little guy. He’d cried out in such fear.

Sam knew well how proud Dean was to have moved past that fear. He hated scaring Sam or anyone his size.

The distance melted away behind them, as if even the Impala was eager to return to Breckenridge. Mountains crept up from the horizon until they surrounded the Winchesters on all sides. Dean took turns around cliffs of which Sam could hardly fathom the size. It was a vastly different landscape from what could be seen around the motel where Sam had lived over half his life.

Scanning the mountaintops, Sam wondered if Oscar knew what the world around his home looked like.

“Just about there,” Dean announced, his voice rumbling behind Sam and breaking him out of a daze. “Dunno if Oz’ll be waiting out for us, so you might have to check out the walls for him.”

Sam stretched, letting his back pop before relaxing against Dean’s neck again. “I thought I’d give you a chance at it,” he quipped. “You do get around faster.”

Dean snorted. “Right. I bet he’d love to have someone trying to break into that vent he always uses.”

Despite the potential danger of the coming case, Sam smirked. The image of Dean trying to squeeze into the air duct wouldn’t leave his head. There’d be no end to the bitching if he got stuck.

With the banter out of the way, the time came for Sam to duck into hiding as Dean arrived at the Knight’s Inn to check into a room. Luckily, the room where Oscar always showed up to meet them was available, and Dean could claim it for himself. Oscar’s home in the walls might even be close enough that he’d hear their arrival.

It was rare that the brothers visited the same place twice. It was almost jarring to see all the same tacky decorations in the room. Sam hung his arms over the edge of the pocket while Dean set down his stuff on the table and the first bed.

“Drop me off by the vent, wouldja?” Sam called up. There was a momentary pause, and then Dean’s swaggering steps moved towards the wall by the dresser. Sam could have gotten to the floor and the vent on his own, and they both knew it. It was simply faster for Sam to put his brother’s longer strides to good use.

Dean knelt and Sam gripped the edge of the pocket as the air rushed past. When Dean offered a hand, he hoisted himself onto it with practiced ease. “Careful in there, half-pint,” Dean warned. “Be ready in case Oscar’s in trouble.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shot his brother a confident grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a bit. You’ll hardly know I was gone.”

Dean lowered his hand to the vent opening, but Sam paused. He opened his jacket partway so that he could let the blade of his silver knife glint in the light. He met Dean’s gaze, an expression that tried hard to hide his worry. Despite his boasting, Sam understood. “I come prepared, Dean.”

Dean blinked, and then smirked as Sam finally disappeared into the dark metal passageway. “Look out for cobwebs, pipsqueak. Might get your bangs stuck in one if they were any longer.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother with a retort. He’d already wandered into the vent, and now he had to focus. They knew Oscar used this air duct to get into the room most of the time, but beyond that Sam didn’t know where his home was.

Sam had checked out the vents briefly the first time they ever stayed here. He’d never noticed the evidence of someone living there, not until he found Oscar hiding in his “room” under the nightstand. Sam made sure to glance over every inch this time, in hopes of finding the route Oscar used.

He almost overlooked a small broken panel of metal a few feet down the passage. It couldn’t make a very big opening, but that very fact halted Sam in his tracks. He held a hand flat in front of his chest, contemplating how small Oscar was, and how much it always surprised him. Only Sam’s adopted mother had been smaller than Oscar, at least as a fully grown adult.

Sam wrenched at the loose panel and it slid aside with a metallic whisper as it scraped against the metal around it. The opening was a squeeze for him, but he made it through into the walls themselves, landing with a quiet thud that no human would hear.

He blinked in the almost-total darkness, and then glanced down. The ground was far less dusty than he’d expect in one direction. Sam could almost see a path away from the opening, a route taken often. He smirked. With as many surprises as Oscar had tucked away in his little sleeves, the little guy had some easy patterns to figure out.

Sam followed the lack of dust around a bend, and paused. A house waited, built in the makeshift fashion that most littles aspired to. Support boards that towered out of sight in the dark formed part of the little home, with broken pieces of drywall slanted over most of the structure. Sam noted the tufts of pink fiberglass insulation tacked to the seams between the plaster, as well as large bits of plastic over others. A block of wood nestled against the front of the little structure, a doorway to a home barely the size of one of Dean’s boots.

With a softer smile, Sam continued forward. He’d never seen Oscar’s house before, but this had to be it. No dust scraped under his boots as he approached; Oscar, or maybe someone else living there, kept the area clean.

He was several inches from that door when he heard voices inside the home. One was quiet, meek, and the other was confident and sharp. Sam didn’t catch any words, but he recognized the stranger from the phone call, the way their voice cut the air and rang like a bell. The pixie.

His hand found the hilt of his knife and clenched around it in preparation. If he needed to rush in and defend Oscar in his little home, he was ready.

“Oscar?” Sam called, his voice strong but still hushed so long as he was in the walls. They couldn’t risk another human realizing where Oscar lived. “Everything okay in there?”

“Sam?” called back, a confused little voice muffled by the structure of the house. Oscar.

Then there was a clatter of something against the floor and shuffling within the home, and Sam tensed again. The pixie’s voice muttered something, and then something knocked into the block of wood from the other side. Sam inched forward again, eyes narrowed.

The block of wood shifted, and then pushed aside. Sam was greeted by an odd sight.

Oscar stood next to the door, crowded close to it sheepishly. Just behind him, leaning down on hands and knees, was a person at least twice Sam’s size. They were big enough that Oscar barely had room to stand by his door while they were there. Suddenly the clattering and shuffling made sense; whoever this was had no room to move around in a house made for someone like Oscar.

Their face angled towards Sam, and he could swear their skin glittered. Keen eyes looked him up and down, and an almost-grin erupted onto their face before disappearing just as quickly. “H-hey, you got some silver or something on ya, don’t you? Don’t tell me you brought iron, too.”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder at the huge person taking up the view into his home before stepping out towards Sam. His little hands clasped in front and fidgeted. “H-Hi, Sam. This … is Goldenrod,” he introduced. “I … didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

“I didn’t,” Sam replied, taking the easy answer first. He looked over Goldenrod some more, what he could see of them. They offered him a terse smile again, and he inclined his head, though the confusion didn’t leave his expression. “I just kinda followed the path … What was all that noise? Is everything okay?”

Goldenrod spoke up before Oscar could answer, their voice easily overpowering his. “I knocked over my little friend’s table again,” they lamented. “There’s a lot of me here, y’know. But there’s room if everyone wants to come inside, Oscar’s a good host.”

Oscar sighed, and Sam suddenly wondered if the little guy had been overworking himself babysitting a miniature, sparkling giant. “Y-yeah, if you wanna,” he said. “You got here faster than I thought you would.”

Sam smiled kindly at Oscar and lightly clapped a hand on his thin little shoulder. “We couldn’t leave our honorary hunter waiting,” he reassured. “But I think if we’re gonna help with … everything you said on the phone, it might be better to come out and talk to Dean, too. I’d like to visit your home later, but it sounds like there’s some people in danger, right?”

Oscar looked up, traces of a smile in his eyes. “Right, okay,” he said. Even despite his timid nature and the weird situation, the little guy still had that will to help people. He was braver than he knew.

“We’re going out again?” Goldenrod asked dubiously. They frowned at Oscar, almost ignoring Sam entirely, who wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Oscar huffed quietly. “Y-yeah, but the room’ll be safe,” he said, turning to face the pouting pixie. “I keep telling you Dean’s a good human, he won’t hurt us. Lemme come back in and get my bag.”

Goldenrod sighed, the most put-upon sound Sam had ever heard out of one person, and then almost flopped right onto the floor. Sam caught a glimpse of four dragonfly wings, so reminiscent of Nixie’s wings, before they propped themself up again and reached for something out of sight from the doorway.

Before Oscar could step towards the door, Goldenrod thrust a hand out, gripped around the strap of Oscar’s cloth bag. It hung in front of him for a surprised second before he took it gently out of the pixie’s grasp. “Um. Thanks,” he muttered.

“Alright, I’m coming out,” Goldenrod announced, but before they made a move they pointed accusingly at Sam. “I know you’ve got silver, friend. I can smell it. And I know what hunters are. Be nice.”

Sam met that gaze without any fear. “So long as you are, too, I don’t think we’ll have a problem. We came to help, remember?”

Goldenrod wrinkled their nose in an expression that reminded Sam of a little kid who couldn’t get their way. Then, before he could even roll his eyes at them, they pulled themself forward and he stepped back in surprise. Oscar shuffled out of the way with him.

The pixie was definitely too large for Oscar’s little wooden door. They had to hunker down to the floor to squeeze past the opening, and their gossamer wings tucked close to their back as they wriggled their way out. Oscar sighed faintly next to Sam as they squirmed their way out. When they were finally free, they nudged Oscar’s door back into place.

Then, they stood.

Sam took another surprised step back. Goldenrod stood a definite eight inches tall, though their frame was willowy like the wood sprites Sam had met just days ago. He’d seen people much taller--his own brother was one of the tallest humans around. It shouldn’t come as such a shock to see someone this size.

Sam wasn’t used to being short compared to other littles. Oscar barely came up to his chest, and most others had to angle their eyes upward to talk to him.

Goldenrod made Sam and Oscar look like children.

They stood there, brushing off their well-made clothes, and Sam found himself inching along to place himself between Oscar and the pixie. If they posed a threat no one had seen yet, he would be ready. If Goldenrod didn’t like the smell of his silver blade, they definitely wouldn’t like its sharpness, either.

Oscar had his neck craned back to keep an eye on Goldenrod, but then he turned his focus to Sam instead. “We gotta use a different entrance from what I usually use,” he explained. “Goldenrod doesn’t fit into the vents.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Sam said with a dry chuckle. “Alright, lead the way.”