She heard the voices before she saw them.

The hunters.

"…visions again, are you?"

"No."

"Premonition?"

"No." Sam rolled his eyes, aggravated.

Her eyes snapped open when she realized she virtually couldn't move. They were close, but their backs were to her, and she watched warily as they continued their conversation.

Thump.

Dean rested his hand on the table. Ashling's eyes went round from how close it was.

"No psychic crap at all?"

"You know, Dean," Sam turned around from packing up his meager supply of clothing into his bag. "It is possible for me to have just a normal, run-of the mill dream."

Ashling wriggled side to side, but it was no use. A silver strip was plastered from her chest to her ankles, pinning her to the table.

Dean's lips turned at the corners- a successful attempt to irritate his little brother further.

"Mm...Doesn't sound like you."

He drummed his fingers absent-mindedly, the tendons tightening and relaxing. He lifted his hand an inch, and Ashling got hopeful, but he set it down again. His little finger brushed the tape covering her arm. If he only leaned a small fraction of his weight... She shuddered to think of the outcome. Didn't he know she was there? Was she going to die because of sheer carelessness?

Hell no.

"Dean!" It felt odd to say his name. But it got his attention.

They stopped talking abruptly and turned on her.

"Looks who's up." Dean masked his lingering awe for the fairy with indifference. He pulled the tape off the table, and her along with it.

She made a face of mild distaste as she was brought close to eyelevel so he could pry the sticky duct tape off her front. She grunted when it was finally off, though there was a residue left on her pants.

"You taped me to a table?"

"Had to make sure you wouldn't go anywhere you're not invited." Dean discarded the tape and held her in one hand. Out of somewhere in-between stubbornness and a healthy fear of the man holding her life in his hand, Ash tried to avoid looking at either of them. Easier said than done. Sam's type of gaze made her feel like a rare specimen under an ever-watchful microscope. She loathed it, but did her best to block him out.

"Have to admit, I'm a bit disappointed by the wake-up call."

"Tough." Dean said.

Sam cleared his throat. "You'll have to excuse us for not rolling out the welcome mat after your game of charades."

She pursed her lips for a moment, then tried a charming smile. "Gotcha going, though, didn't I?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. A moment later, she found herself returned less than gently to the table.

"Cute. But you're not getting out of the deal prematurely."

"Deal?" She quirked a brow.

"Yeah, you know... You stick around, help us gank some demons, I might change my mind about my amulet."

Must have decided that for me while I was unconscious.

She crossed her arms across her chest, considering this "deal". She needed to do was cozy up to this douchebag and get him to trust her. A challenge, but not impossible.

"Hey, uh… You hungry?" Sam picked up a brown bag behind her and handed her a chunk of blueberry muffin that he had saved for her. Glancing just to the side, she now noticed he tried to make her a cup by cleaning out a toothpaste cap and filling it with water.

She motioned for him to hand it over. Ash hesitated before taking a bite, turning it over and giving it a cautious whiff for any type of drug or undesirable.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Sam's lips. He glanced toward his brother, hoping he'd be impressed at the very least. Ash noticed, and silently marveled at how a man as big as building could resemble an eager puppy dog. Dean gave him a minimal nod. The kid had a soft heart.

Ashling took one satisfied bite, then another. The berries were mushy and more juice than fruit. But it was flavorful enough. And sweet.

"Well," said Dean. "Now that we've ruled out the case of The Incredible Shrinking Woman-" he gave Ash a pointed glance. "-we can get back to our witch hunt."

Ashling scooted backward as he sat down at the table and laid out a worn out journal.

"Dean, we've been following this serial killer for almost two weeks. All we're finding are hex-bag and mutilated bodies." Sam was looking down to finish adjusting his tie, as well as avoid his brother's hardened gaze.
"You're saying we should just, what? Throw the towel in? Let more people die?"
"No! But... Maybe.. we should let another hunter take over. We're trying the same thing over and over again with the same result."
"No. I'm not ready to let this be the one that got away."

Sam stood, staring expectantly at the Dean.
"You gonna try to pass as an FBI agent in jeans?" He asked, waiting for an explanation for why he wasn't getting dressed yet. Dean smiled.
"Actually, I was thinking you could handle the preliminary chat on your own this time."
Sam blinked. Trusting him on his own? That was rare.
"Why? You got something better to do?" He asked suspiciously.
"Someone's gotta stay, keep an eye on Tinkerbell here."

Ash looked up, miffed, and shot him a dirty look out of the corner of her eye.

"Wait, should't I stay if she's after your amulet?" Sam pointed out, the constant voice of reason.

"Well, let's be honest here," Dean leaned back in his chair and gave him a "because I said so" look. "Between the two of us, I have more experience in dealing fairies."

Sam knew exactly what he was talking about, flashing back to that UFO case in Arizona.

"Dean, you thew her in a microwave."

Ashling nearly choked on sip of water. Dean turned to see the tiny woman staring at him with a mixture of horror and shock.

"Well, actually she flew in. I just….Yeah." He trailed off when his attempt to recover failed miserably.

"I'm just saying…She's already got past you twice. You might be losing your touch in old age."

Dean immediately got defensive. "I was asleep!"

"So?"

As they went back and forth, Ash set down the toothpaste cap and slowly slunk towards the back of the table. She hung off the edge, then dropped to the chair, where one of the hunter's bags lay open on the seat. Glancing under the table, she could see their postures hadn't changed, and they were still engrossed in their debate. She turned to the open bag and stepped amidst its cavernous contents.

Come on, there has to be something useful in here. Leverage of some sort…

Though the bag was made of woven fibers, the bottom of the bag appeared to be made of cool metal. Upon closer inspection,she saw it was separate from the bag itself, and recognized the device the taller hunter had pulled out the previous night to show her the picture of the real Morgan Lemore.

A balled up shirt bulked up a fair portion of the room. It got darker as she crawled deeper, shoving aside a switchblade as long as she was. At the very bottom, it appeared to be organized with two small boxes. Before she got to open, either, however, she realized the voices had stopped. Not a moment later, the air was seized from her lungs as the bag was picked up. Suddenly, light. A hand wrapped around her body.

"See? What did I tell ya?" Ashling dangled before those incessantly green eyes. "..Can't be trusted."

Sam knew when to pick his battles, and this wasn't one of them. "Alright." He said defeatedly. He threw on his discount sports jacket and finished fixing his hair back, completing the professional disguise. "Try not to pizza roll her."