The Golden Touch 3

Sam found himself waking up to the sound of the TV, and water running in the background. With a slight moan, he sat up. What the hell did I sleep on last night? His back was killing him from the uncomfortable position he'd slept in. Blinking his eyes open hesitantly in the brightly lit motel room, he gazed about, confused. He was still sitting on the shirt he'd been on in the car, but now instead of the bench seat, he was on a huge bed.

For a few seconds he simply sat there, taking in his surroundings with amazement. A week ago being on a human bed like this, especially with a human around, had been one of the most dangerous things he could have done. But instead, he was safe and sound. How things change.... He found himself wondering how he'd got there.

Must have got here while I was asleep... why didn't Dean wake me when we reached the motel? He stretched out his arms slowly, pushing away the fog of sleep from his mind. Hopefully Dean was almost done in the shower, he was starving. He settled back into the shirt, still too groggy to climb down and go to his actual bed.

He didn't have long to wait. Dean came out of the shower, still brushing his teeth, less than ten minutes later. "Yuu wunnaf go touf brufuss wif me?"

Sam sniggered. "Did you come up with that language all on your own?"

Dean glared at him past the toothbrush, sending a brief chill of intimidation up Sam's spine, then leaned over the sink to finish up. Once he was done and patting himself dry with a towel, he said, "I said, you wanna go to breakfast with me, smartass?"

"Y-yeah, sure Dean." Sam couldn't keep the nervousness out of his voice. It was one thing being here with his brother, but he still shivered whenever he was sitting in Dean's pocket in a store. Listening to giants talk over his head, with no idea he was even there. Knowing that someone else could bump into his brother at any second. Something like that could lead to Sam's discovery, or he could end up crushed with no way to help himself. And he was certain it would be worse in a diner. Surrounded by other giants, there wouldn't be anywhere safe for him at all. But he had promised Dean he'd go. He didn't want to let his brother down like that. Especially over something so dumb.

Dean came over to the bed once he had his shirt on and was all dressed. He knelt down by the edge Sam was near. "You know, you don't have to come if it makes you uncomfortable. I won't get upset," he said.

Sam met his eyes, knowing Dean hated seeing him afraid. "It's ok, Dean. I want to go. It's just a lot to take in, you know?" He waved his hand at his brother. "I'm still not completely used to you yet, never mind anyone else. But I can't get used to it if I don't leave the motel, right? And if I want to hunt, I'm gonna have to learn to not be so jumpy."

Dean smiled at the reassurance. He got up and grabbed his jacket from the ground, putting it on. This early in the morning, the air was still cool enough for him to wear it, luckily. It was the only way he could keep Sam hidden in the diner. His shirt was thin enough that if Sam was in a squirmy mood, you could see him moving around in the pocket. He didn't want to have to explain why he had a miniaturized person hanging around in his pocket anytime soon.

He held his hand out to Sam. Sam slipped on, bracing against a finger while the bed dropped away from him. Dean held him up next to the pocket so Sam could climb in while he grabbed his keys from the nightstand.

Sam grabbed the edge of the pocket, opening it far enough for him to slip in. He peered in cautiously before getting in, remembering the time he'd crash-landed on some forgotten change the other day. He still had bruises on his arm from the rough landing. In the end, he'd tried to throw the change at Dean for the indignity, which hadn't gone well, considering how much higher above him Dean was. He'd missed his shot and Dean had retaliated by buttoning up the pocket for a while, leaving Sam stuck ruminating alone in the dark with the rest of the change until he relented and took pity on his little brother. Being trapped in a pocket with no way out was embarrassing.

His eyes widened and he gasped when he saw what was already in Dean's pocket this time. And he was pretty sure it wasn't something Dean had forgot about. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean glanced down at his pocket, impatience flashing briefly over his face. At least until he saw the shock on Sam's face. "What happened?" He demanded.

Sam just pointed at the pocket.

Curious, Dean pulled it open with his free hand so he could see inside. His eyes widened and he gave Sam a shocked look. "Is that... a girl in my pocket?"

"Y-yeah, I think so." Sam went to reach for the pocket again, but Dean pulled the hand he was in swiftly away from the shirt. "Hey!" Sam yelled up at him, teetering to catch his balance from the unexpected movement. The fingers around him curled up to help steady him against the movement. "What's the big idea?"

Dean stared at him incredulously. "There's some unknown creature in my pocket and you want to drop in and say 'hi?' I don't think so!"

"Dean, it's a girl. And she's hurt. She needs help." He locked eyes with Dean, willing Dean to see things his way.

Naturally, it didn't work. "Sam, we don't know anything about... whatever the hell she is. And I'm not gonna risk you like that."

"Risk me? Dean, I can take care of myself. And it's not like you're going anywhere! It's just your pocket - I'll be fine!" Sam pulled himself to his full four inch height in his brother's palm, pushing away any insecurities he had about his size and standing as tall as he could manage. Without confidence, he knew he'd never be able to convince Dean. "You have to trust me!"

A conflicted look washed over Dean's face. Sam knew he was torn in two directions - trust Sam, protect Sam. Both equally important in Dean's eyes. The scales were tipping in his favor slowly from what he could see. He knew he'd won before Dean let out a heartfelt sigh, Sam's hair disheveled in the hot breeze.

Dean lowered his hand back to the pocket, holding it open with his other hand for Sam. Sam carefully climbed down into the dark pocket, keeping hold of one of Dean's fingers so he didn't fall on the girl. She looked bruised and battered... and he could swear he saw a... wing? laying under her. He gently brushed a hand over her cheek. She was still breathing, but there was no other outward response to him. He called up to Dean, asking for help pulling her out. There was no way Sam would be able to get her out of the pocket alone. It was too steep to haul himself up with a passenger.

He heard Dean grumble above him, shifting his hands around so he was holding the pocket open with the hand Sam was anchored to, and slipped his freed fingers down into the pocket. Sam held his breath, worried. She seemed so small and frail next to Dean's fingers he hoped his brother didn't accidentally injure her more trying to get her out. But he knew from experience how gentle Dean could be when he wanted to, despite being such a dangerous hunter. And as far as he could tell, she wasn't much smaller than Sam himself. As carefully as cradling an egg, Dean scooped his hand under her, lifting her up out of the pocket. Sam jumped on the hand supporting her as soon as it was level with him.

He knelt down next to her, ignoring Dean as the hand was raised higher in the air to eye level. He'd gotten used to that, at least. Dean always seemed to be staring down at Sam with those piercing, intense eyes, as though he thought that if he glanced away for a second Sam would fade away again, leaving Dean alone in the world. As though he was afraid of losing Sam again so soon.

He kept his attention on the girl next to him. She was definitely hurt... bruises covered her arms completely, and he could see some of them stretching down to her back. Her clothes were skimpy, leaving much of her back and legs exposed. A strange bluish tinge tinted most of her body, all the way to the layers in her hair, which seemed more feathery than hair. And from her back... Sam could have sworn that what came from her back were the wings of a dragonfly, though much more elegant, broader and bluer.

He rocked back on his heels, glancing up at Dean. "Dude, I think she's a fairy."

---

Dean watched as Sam lifted the tiny girl from his hand, gently laying her on a washcloth Dean had grabbed from the bathroom. He still wasn't about to leave his little brother alone with her, but as long as she was knocked out like this Sam shouldn't be in any danger.

From what they could tell, she had been through a lot. One of her wings was almost snapped clean through, barely holding on in one piece at this point. Bruises marred very fair, pale blue skin over most of her body. She was wearing bright green clothes, made of no material Dean had ever seen in his life. The clothes were clearly made for hot or tropical weather, as skimpy as they were. The pants extended a little past her knees, and the shirt was barely a midriff, with most of her back exposed, giving the wings freedom of movement.

Sam carefully spread her broken wing out behind her, stretching it as far out as her could without injuring it more. "Do we have anything I can use to get some of this blood off her?" He called up to Dean.

"Uh, yeah. We should." Dean glanced around the room until his eyes fell on his small med-kit. "Just gimme a sec," he said.

While Dean was shuffling around the room getting supplies, Sam brushed the feathery blue hair away from the girls face. Sleeping like this, she seemed so young and innocent, almost childlike. He found himself hoping she would wake up soon. He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. Where she was from, what she was, how she'd ended up in his brother's pocket... the list went on and on.

A dark shadow fell over the both of them when Dean returned with the medical supplies. Sam glanced up briefly, gratefully accepting a warm, damp cloth from an extended hand. It had been cut down to a useful size for Sam, about as large as a beach towel to him. He carefully cleaned the... blood? from the injured wing. It was a thick, and almost clear liquid that reflected blue in the soft motel room light. Like nothing he'd ever seen before, or read about.

While Sam gently wiped down the wing, Dean sat down behind them at the table. A huge hand hovered next to Sam, ready, he knew, to lend assistance if it was needed. Or to protect him if things went south. Nothing he said would ever convince Dean he didn't need protecting. Leaving the wing alone for the moment, he gently checked for any broken bones over the rest of her. He wanted to save the wing for last, since he wasn't completely sure how to splint such a delicate limb.

As Sam was leaning over her to check her other arm, her eyes snapped open without warning. He froze in place, disconcerted by her ice blue glare. There were no pupils, reminding him of a blind man's eyes. They were clear blue pools that felt like she could stare into his soul with. And she could clearly see out of them without a problem, as they tracked his movement effortlessly when he sat back, afraid of scaring her more.

She sat up a little, groaning with pain. A hand was held to her head. "You. Who are you." She said, more statement than question.

"My name's Sam," he started. He was about to go on and introduce Dean when his brother shifted behind him, fabric loudly crinkling as he leaned in to get a better view of the girl now that she was awake.

This innocent movement from Dean got a violent response. The second the girl noticed him, she hissed, wings rigid with anger. From her position on the washcloth, she was midair in an instant, flipping agilely away from Dean.

Everything went black for Sam at the same instant, and he found himself balled into a tiny, stuffy area while the ground fell rapidly away from his feet.

"Ack! Dean! Let me out!" Sam pounded against the hands confining him, hating how he was trapped so easily. The fingers walled around him didn't even budge a millimeter from his efforts. He was lucky Dean was on his side, but sometimes his brother's overprotectiveness drove him nuts.

"Like hell," his brother's deep voice growled from outside his protective prison. "She tried to attack you."

Sam groaned, trying to shift to a more comfortable position in his cramped accommodations. At least he knew the girl was fine for the moment, considering Dean didn't have any hands to spare. Sweat beaded on the huge palms surrounding him. Sam realized exactly how nervous Dean was at the moment, making it even more uncomfortable for Sam in the humid enclosure. He shoved vigorously against the thick skin surrounding him with his back and legs, hoping to find a weak spot. Nothing. He might as well have been trying to break through solid rock for all the good he was doing. He was getting nowhere like this.

Better try a different tactic.

He decided to try and reason with his brother. "Dean, she wasn't attacking me. She was fine until she saw you. Now let me out so I can talk to her before she gets hurt more!" He gave a vigorous kick against the fingers walled around him again, aggravated at his own sudden helplessness. "I know what I'm doing!"

Light slowly returned as Dean cautiously unfurled his hands, giving Sam space to get up. He was relieved to see the small girl was fine, standing in a defensive posture past the washcloth, blue eyes wide as she stared up at the both of them. Her wings were trembling as she stood there, clearly in pain. Sam shot a pointed glare up at his brother. "Dean, back off for a few minutes. Let me try talking to her."

He suddenly wondered if he'd finally pushed Dean too far. He'd never seen Dean staring at him so angrily before, and here he was, stranded on Dean's palm, defenseless and with no way down. A chill of intimidation ran up his back with the realization of how vulnerable he was there. When someone is literally holding your life in their hands, you tend to rethink yelling at them. His brother glared down at him for a long moment before lowering the hand close enough to the table for Sam to get off. Sam slid down to the table, relaxing a hair when he heard Dean's chair scrape back against the floor behind him.

"You sure as hell better know what you're doing." Dean muttered down at him, shifting so he wasn't looming over the girl anymore. Dean would never to leave Sam alone at the table while there was even a possibility of danger to his little brother, but at least he was willing to give Sam this chance. Barely.

Sam approached the girl slowly, holding out his hands to show he was unarmed. She never took her vivid blue eyes off Dean. "Are you ok?" He asked, still softly.

"No." She blinked, changing the direction of her gaze to Sam. He stood straighter, caught in her eyes for a moment. They were the deep blue of a lake, easy to get lost in. She cocked her head at Sam. "Where am I?" This time it was a clear question, asked with all the authority of a queen.

Slightly thrown off by her demeanor, Sam couldn't help but stutter out, "Yo-you're in our motel room. In Colorado." He'd only known a few girls growing up, and she was unlike any of them. He stumbled around in his head, trying to find something to say to her.

Reaching the washcloth he stepped around slowly. She backed away from him uncertainly, sudden fear reflecting in her eyes when they flicked between him and Dean again.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"It's ok." Sam said to her cajolingly. "I just want to help."

"Not you. Him." The vivid blue eyes darted up to Dean and back to Sam. The fear when she glanced at Dean was practically tangible. "Wing..."

Sam thought about what she'd said for a moment, reaching the only conclusion that made sense. "Did... did a human break your wing?"

"Yes..." her wings drooped down, one arm rubbing against the other. "He was human." Rubbing over the bruises Sam realized must have been caused when someone grabbed her roughly. The size of them would match a human's fingers perfectly.

"What happened? How did you get hurt? Did..." he nervously glanced up at Dean, knowing what his brother would say if she turned out to be dangerous. "...Did you attack them?"

She tilted her head, confusion in her eyes for a moment. "No...." she said slowly. "I was chasing him. To stop him. He stole... a dangerous heirloom from us." She shuddered, pain crossing over her face as her hands went to the bruises on her arms. "An amulet we inherited from our father."

He approached her again, this time carefully taking her arm away from the bruises. "It's ok," he said softly. She wasn't going to make it much longer without some help for her injuries, from the look of things. "We're not gonna hurt you. I promise. I'm Sam," he placed both hands over his heart. "And this is my brother Dean," he gestured up at Dean. "We want to help. You can tell us everything later, once we get you fixed up." He glanced up at Dean, willing him to do something non-threatening for a change.

Luckily for Sam, Dean caught his meaning quick. "Hi," he said, giving an uncertain wave to the girl. He smiled down at her, trying his best not to be intimidating for once.

Sam turned back to the blue girl again. "What's your name?" He asked, carefully sizing up her reaction to Dean. She was slightly more relaxed than before. An improvement. Now if only Dean would do the same.

"I... I am Nixie." She faltered, slipping down to one knee. Sam caught one of her arms before she fell down all the way.

Out of nowhere, Dean's hand was suddenly there, carefully offering support. Sam grinned his thanks up at his brother, surprised Dean would be willing to help considering his usual opinion of the supernatural. That much hadn't changed since they were kids.

Dean had an intense look of concentration on his face the entire time, trying to support her without brushing against her wings. There was no way to know if his touch would make them worse.

Nixie didn't seem to appreciate the support though, trying her best to push away from the hand. She stumbled the moment she was free, almost falling flat on her face.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sam said. "Nixie, we need to get you fixed up. Dean just wants to help, I promise. He won't hurt you. He's very gentle for a human."

She caught him in an icy stare. "What about earlier then?"

"What do you mean, earlier?"

"He grabbed you."

"Oh!" Sam said, surprised. He hadn't thought about how that must have looked to her. "He didn't hurt me... he was trying to protect me. He thought you might hurt me."

If he was reading her facial expressions right, this must be one of shock. She blinked her eyes slowly. "Hurt you. I would never hurt another Fae."

Somehow, Sam knew Dean was trying to hold in a laugh at that. "Nixie... I'm not a Fae. I'm a human, like Dean."

She simply blinked. "No."

Sam glowered at Dean when he heard his brother snort with laughter. So not helping, Dean. "I'm not supposed to be this size. I was cursed."

"Cursed." She pulled herself up all the way, slightly stumbling. This time when Dean gently wrapped his fingers around her, helping her stand, she didn't resist. She reached out to Sam, pressing her hand against his chest. He held still, curious as to what she was doing. A minute passed before she opened her eyes again, wide as they could go. The empty blue pools chilled him for a moment before she focused back on him. "You are a human." Her voice was a bare whisper compared to earlier. "How? I know of no spell or magic that can do this to a person."

Whatever she did to find this out, she slipped and her legs collapsed completely, no strength left in then. He eyes rolled up into her head. Sam grabbed for her, but was too late to help. Luckily, Dean was still close enough to slip his fingers beneath her falling form before she hit the table. He gently lifted her up, placing her on the washcloth again. "We can save the stories for later, once we get you better," Sam whispered as Dean lowered her down. She moaned as Sam leaned over her again, gently blotting the damp cloth against her face, wiping away a sheen of sweat. "What can I do to help you?" He asked, unsure how to give first aid to a fairy.

Her head rolled on her shoulders, trying to focus. "W-water," she mumbled. Her eyes rolled up into her head.

Sam glanced up. "Dean?"

"Yeah, got it." His brother jumped up, quickly grabbing a bottle of water and pouring out a capful.

Once he handed it off, Sam held it up to her lips, letting her drink a mouthful. She blinked a few times, her vacant eyes refocusing. She accepted the water from him, but instead of drinking more, gathered a handful in a cup. And tossed it over her wing, to the surprise of the brothers. More handfuls followed, covering the glistening wing in droplets. She gave a sigh, slumping down into the cloth. "Much better," she moaned. "If you can... if you have a way to set it, it will help."

Sam turned to Dean. "Do you have anything small enough to set her wing with?"

Dean frowned in concentration for a few seconds, then smiled. "I might have just the thing." He stood up and glanced back down at Sam, holding out a finger. "Don't go anywhere," he ordered.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Where do you think we're going?" He turned away from his brother and felt a spike of worry when he saw Nixie's eyes roll back into her head again, wings drooping as she collapsed backwards. "Nixie!" He dove to catch her, jumping in surprise when he heard the motel room door slam shut behind him. Dean had actually left him alone with the fairy.

As careful as he could, Sam repositioned her on the washcloth. Her shuddering died down as she slumped into the cloth, out cold.

It was only a few moments until Dean returned with more supplies from the Impala. Sam had managed to straighten out the wing from where it was crumpled against the ground. His brother carefully placed some small sticks, gauze and floss near Sam.

"Sorry, it's not perfect, but it's the best I have your size." Dean said.

"I should be able to make it work," Sam said with what he hoped wasn't false confidence. "Can you hold her wing straight?"

He oversaw as his brother's fingers gently straightened the appendage, very carefully smoothing it out. Dean kept the wing braced like that while Sam wrapped it up, drawing on the limited first aid his adopted father taught him. Self-reliance was one of the best things to have when you're smaller than everyone else in the world. Basic first aid had been one of the most important lessons to learn. On the other hand, none of them had expected to ever have to splint a fairy's wing. Sam's small hands and fingers helped a lot. Dean wouldn't have been able to bind it half as well on his own.

Sam finished at last, sitting back gratefully to admire his handiwork. "Ok, it might not be the prettiest, but this should keep it immobile while the wing heals," he said, mostly to himself. Dean gently released the wing. The girl slumped back into the cloth once the wing slipped down next to her. She hadn't budged since they started.

Sam sat down on the table next to the girl and glanced up at Dean. "Now what?" He asked.

---

A few minutes later, Dean was carefully holding Sam out in front of him. They were standing by the small kitchenette in the room, far enough away to not disturb the fairy while they talked, but still close enough to keep a close eye on her.

"Sam, you know I don't like this," Dean whispered down harshly at his little brother. "She can't be trusted."

Sam twitched slightly in response to the harsh tone, making Dean feel guilty all over again. And he'd seen the fear in Sam's eyes earlier, when Dean had been trying to protect him from the fairy. It wasn't like he was TRYING to scare or intimidate Sam all the time. He just wasn't used to talking to someone so much smaller and frailer than him, or someone whose entire body could be held in his freakin' hand, for that matter. Despite spending almost a week with Sam like this, he still felt like he'd hurt his brother if he moved the wrong way.

He'd have to get used to it though. For Sammy's sake.

Sam visibly gathered himself after a moment, glaring stubbornly up at Dean. "Dean, we're not gonna just kill her until she does something, or we know she did something to deserve it! I mean, just look at me!" Sam threw out his arms. "If that was the way you really thought, you should have killed me the moment you first found me in your motel room. After all, I'm not human either, and you didn't know I was your brother until later! After you caught me. You had plenty of time where you could have done me in. Instead, here we are."

Dean felt his cheek twitch at that. Sam was right. There was a good chance that if it had been anyone but Sam, he would have done exactly that without even thinking about it. Had even come close to it with his initial reaction when he discovered the tiny guy creeping around in the room. While their Dad was raising them on the road, motel to motel, he had done his best to instill in them a pure hatred of the supernatural that matched his own. Dean had taken to it easily, with the memories of that fatal night all those years ago branded into his mind. Watching his house go up in flames, losing his mother... Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Now Dean, GO! Dean could feel the cold suspicion in him, even with the fact that the tiny fairy had done nothing to deserve it so far.

Maybe he needed Sam.... as much as Sam needed him.

Sam's tone softened, as though he knew what was running though Dean's mind. "Dean, I'm not saying we should trust her with our lives here. I just think she deserves the benefit of doubt." Sam paused to peer in the direction of the table, small boots shifting over the surface of Dean's palm. "And... there's something about the way she talked to me... I don't think she was lying. There was... an innocence in her eyes. Like she's naive about the way the world works." He turned his gaze up to Dean. "I don't think she would know what a lie IS."

Dean sighed. He knew Sam would never forgive him if he did anything without checking with Sam. If it came to it, he'd make the call... but until then he needed to give Sam his trust. After all, if he couldn't trust his own brother, who could he trust? And, even with something as simple as standing here with Dean, Sam was trusting Dean with his life - willingly standing in the hands of a giant he'd been with less than a week, suspended far above the ground, trusting in Dean to keep him safe... there was no doubt in Dean's mind that if Sam fell from this height, he'd get badly hurt, if it didn't kill him. Dean wanted... no, he NEEDED to give Sam the same trust Sam showed him every day. Still... "Sam, I hate this. I hate not knowing, and I especially hate you putting yourself at risk here."

Sam rolled his eyes up at Dean. "Dean, I'll be fine. I can handle myself. I survived all those years fine without you, you know."

Dean jabbed a big finger at Sam, poking him gently in the side. Sam squirmed away, trying to push away a finger that was almost bigger than his entire body while Dean kept talking. "Yeah, but you weren't exactly putting yourself purposely at risk all those years, were you?"

Giving up on moving the finger away, Sam crossed his arms bitchily. "Just trust me on this, alright?"

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes. "Of course I trust you. It's her I have an issue with. If anything happens, you have to be prepared to do what you have to. That's what it means to be a hunter. Alright?"

Sam stared down at his boots. "Yeah, fine. I got it."

Dean held the hand up directly in front of his face, making Sam shift uncomfortably under his heavy gaze. "You're sure? I just want us to be clear..."

"Yes, I said I got it, Dean!" Sam snapped, stomping a boot down on the palm. He whirled around so he was facing away from Dean, arms crossed angrily across his chest. It was the closest he could get to storming off while stranded in the air like this.

"Alright Tinkerbell, chill." Dean's mouth twitched up, remembering how Nixie had confused Sam with another fairy. But despite Dean's attempt at lightening the mood, Sam didn't respond. Dean rolled his eyes again, knowing the conversation was over. No use bullying Sam into talking more. And it would be bullying at this point. He pulled the hand close to his body, not wanting to knock Sam off when he moved. He dropped his tiny, pissy brother off at the table and went over to the bed, planning on watching something to get his mind off the argument. Now if only he'd remembered to pick up some beer...