Burgers and Pixie Dust - 5

A/N:  There's mention of gore in this chapter, but it's not a very graphic description, so I opted not to put a warning on it. I guess if someone thinks I should anyway, just let me know and I'll update it.

~~~

Oscar sighed, glad they could make some progress on the case. Just as he’d expected, Sam and Dean knew what to do with the information Goldenrod gave them. Oscar wouldn’t have known what to do at all, and the grisly details would probably just have given him nightmares.

Sam rose to his feet, regarding his gigantic brother. His journal was tucked under an arm, ready to open again if the need to write something down struck him. “Right,” he quipped, “you’re definitely not trying to weasel out of research.”

Dean shrugged. “Does everyone here wanna go with me instead?” he asked pointedly. “I got enough pockets, but it might get a little crowded.”

Oscar looked up, his eyes wide. He’d travelled by pocket before, and had been treated to Dean running full tilt to chase a demon. His stomach did flip flops just remembering that ordeal. It didn’t matter that he’d agreed to go, even insisted on helping them with the case. It was scary to be jostled around like that and know he wasn’t in any control.

This time, he wasn’t needed along to help, but Dean had offered. Oscar knew Dean wouldn’t go up against something he didn’t know how to kill yet, and he definitely wouldn’t face a monster without Sam nearby. They were a seamless team, something that still baffled Oscar sometimes.

“Um,” he muttered, self-consciously shuffling his cloth-covered feet. He tried to take up as little space as possible, an easy feat for the smallest one there. “If you need us …”

Dean spared him at last with a faint smirk. “Nah, Oz, I was just kidding. Sam will get on the laptop to do some research based on what Goldie here has to say. You can look after our would-be vic while me an’ Sam are busy, okay?”

Goldenrod huffed indignantly, but Oscar ignored them to nod emphatically at Dean. This was something he could do. He’d already spent some time keeping an eye on the strange fairy, and with Sam nearby to help him, he wasn’t as leery of them.

“Alright, Dean, I’ll help,” he agreed.

“Attaboy, Oz,” Dean replied, his smirk becoming a grin. One huge hand shifted so that Dean could nudge at Oscar’s shoulder with one knuckle, making him lean away from it in sheer surprise. Oscar trusted the human, but it was weird knowing how gentle someone so much bigger could be. Dean had practice.

Then, Dean pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. Oscar craned his neck back as a shadow fell over the three still on the table, and knew they weren’t in any danger from the tall human standing there.

Weird. His life had gotten so weird since meeting those brothers.

While Dean and Sam got the laptop ready for Sam to do research, Oscar waited exactly where he was. He didn’t have a seat until Dean set down one of their tattered old books on the table and offered him a wink, before heading to the bathroom to change into his disguise. The routine of preparing for a hunt and gathering all needed information was as automatic as breathing for Sam and Dean. Oscar was simply swept along for the ride.

He hopped up onto the book to have a seat, and by the time Dean came back, Goldenrod had scooted themself closer as well, eyeing the laptop dubiously. Sam navigated the keyboard with ease, one practiced hop after another. The pixie looked like they didn’t know what to think about Sam’s familiarity with the technology.

The door closed behind Dean and the three were left on the table to their own work. “Alright, Goldenrod, what can you tell me about this guy? Name, powers, what he looks like?” Sam asked.

Goldenrod opened their mouth, and then flinched as the Impala roared to life outside. They sent the door an accusing glare before pointedly settling their shoulders. “Can’t name him directly, that’d just be bringing trouble right to us,” they huffed. “But I think in this realm you have a phrase that will work. He’s a Red Cap.”

While Sam typed in the words, Oscar looked up at the harried pixie. He recalled something they’d mentioned before. “Names? Why are you so worried about names?”

Goldenrod offered Oscar a smile, the kind of expression reserved for a child asking endearing questions. “Names given directly are like power to the fairies,” they said. “That’s why I never asked for yours, little friend. It would have been rude of me. I didn’t find out your name until these two said it.”

Oscar must have looked worried, because Goldenrod laughed then, that musical sound that both relaxed Oscar and chilled him to the bone. “Oh, my little friend,” they said. “Please don’t fret.” They leaned over where they sat so they could put both arms around Oscar’s tiny frame, yet again moving more quickly than he could account for.

“Goldenrod!” he complained, squirming.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice cut in, and Oscar looked over to see the smaller of the two professional monster hunters standing near the mousepad on the laptop. He had bristled and he was watching Goldenrod warily. “Let him go if he’s not okay with … what are you even doing?”

Goldenrod huffed, but let go of Oscar anyway. They pointedly set their hands in their lap before giving a flick of their gossamer wings. “Oh my gods, don’t friends hug in this realm?”

Oscar paused, then glanced over at Sam to see that they both wore a confused expression. Oscar wasn’t sure of how to answer. He’d never had any friends until Sam and Dean came along.

Sam shook his head and held up a hand as if staving off the nonsense that was sure to come forth from the pixie if they were allowed to keep rambling. “Uh. Whatever. Usually people hug if both people want to,” he emphasized, before turning back towards the screen to change the subject.

“I found a page on red caps,” he said. “Maybe you should come over here and go through it with me for fact checking.”

~~~

Jesus Christ, Dean thought, a frown settled on his face as he pulled the sterile white sheet back over the body. If that’s what they were calling it.

Whatever had killed that person had hardly left anything to identify them as a human. If they hadn’t been stored in a freezer, Dean might have gagged from the smell of such a pile of gore.

“This is all they found?” he asked, brushing past it. He’d seen mauled corpses before. It was part of the job. Already the harsh sight was fading from memory into the background. It was motivation to prevent someone else from meeting the same grisly end.

And, whether or not he doubted that fairy was telling the truth, this looked like a case.

The coroner shrugged and ran a hand over his bald head. “It is,” he confirmed. “One a’ the worst animal attacks I ever saw. I dunno what coulda done it, so I don’t know why tha FBI’s pokin’ around.”

Dean got that one a lot. If only this guy knew how often the “FBI” saved people from things they didn’t want to know existed. “Gotta follow up on everything,” he said, resigned to the lie. Same story he told everyone who asked, and it kept the civilians safe. Most of them simply weren’t ready for the supernatural, and he did what he could to keep them in the dark. “Dotting i’s, crossing t’s, that sort of thing.”

The man shrugged again and shoved the cooler closed with a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright,” he grunted. “I’ll getcha a copy a’ the report, just a second.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Dean answered.

Nothing like a suit and a little confidence to make sure almost no one questioned him too much. He tried to tell Sam, but for whatever reason Sam never found it as funny that Dean could get into places with a Bikini Inspector badge.

The coroner gave Dean a tidy manila folder with the report from the death, as well as similar cases in the area. Dean thanked him and the guy gave him a noncommittal wave as he left, aiming to take the information back to Sam. Hopefully his trip through traffic to the morgue and back would have given enough time to research some background.

Knowing Sam, it was plenty of time. The little guy had taken to the research like a fish to water. They might bicker about who did more work in that area, but at the end of the day Dean was proud of his little brother.

On his way back to the Impala, Dean paused to notice a group of kids loitering at a park across the street. They yelled at passersby and passed a lighter back and forth to smoke and generally act like teenagers.

One of them noticed him watching and sat up straighter. He made a show of turning his ballcap around and then flipping Dean the bird with both hands. Tough guy.

Dean’s expression went flat and he rolled his eyes, ignoring the jeers. “Yeah, you’re welcome, you little assholes,” he muttered, slamming the door. “I’ll just get back to saving your town like usual.”

The Impala rumbled to life, and Dean pulled away from the curb to head back.

There was a Biggerson’s on the way. Thinking briefly of how much Oscar liked warm food, Dean decided to make a quick stop. The little guy seemed healthy enough lately, but he was always so skinny and frail when they stopped in town. Dean had to wonder if the food they left him was stretching thin to feed too many mouths, or if Oscar just couldn’t keep the pounds … ounces on.

With some food in hand and a report on the kills in town, Dean was back at the motel in no time. A cursory glance revealed not many people were around the Knight’s Inn. He doubted Sam and Oscar found any trouble from outside the room.

If trouble came at them from that odd little pixie (Dean hadn’t realized they could meet someone fussier than Bowman Leafwing), Sam was ready. Dean had trained the kid with his silver knife himself, and Oscar knew the hiding places in this motel better than anyone.

Despite this reminder, there was a rush in Dean’s steps as he closed the distance to the door, spoils in hand. He knocked twice, not forgetting his signal for his vulnerable little brother even in his hurry, and then unlocked the door.

“Hey, guys, I …” he stopped after closing the door behind himself.

Sam stood on the laptop, his usual spot for research, but he had his arms crossed. Oscar stood near the machine, staring up at Dean with surprise. Goldenrod …

Goldenrod was gone.

Dean frowned and inched toward the table. If there was a setup, Sam would signal him. When nothing was forthcoming, Dean set down the food bag and let the manila folder slap onto the table opposite the others. Oscar flinched, then shuffled his feet abashedly.

“Where the hell did he … she … where did Goldenrod go?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Apparently they got spooked by all of this and decided to flit back to Oscar’s ‘threshold’ to hide,” he answered. “Couldn’t exactly stop them, but I think they went to Oscar’s house again.”

Oscar nodded sheepishly. “I told them they’d need to stay and help more, but … they said something about hunters being reckless and then they flew off. I can’t really keep up with pixies, I guess. I can go find them again, if you want? I was gonna wait ‘til you came back.”

The rambling tapered off and Dean shook his head ruefully. “Nah,” he said, waving a hand. “Let ‘em stew for a bit. I’ve got some info from the morgue we can go over.”

“Alright,” Oscar said uncertainly, though the tension did slowly unwind from his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it, Oz,” Dean reassured him with a smirk. “If you head off right away, you’ll miss out on Biggerson’s.”

Sam and Oscar both finally took more notice of the food bag, and with very differing reactions. Oscar brightened as much as he’d ever done at the sight of a huge bag full of warm food. Sam eyed it dubiously. “Did you get-” he began.

“They have a salad option,” Dean cut him off with a roll of his eyes. “And yes, I got it, you rabbit. Let’s just go over what we know, eat to build our strength, and then you guys can go cart that fairy back out here to do their share.”