A/N

I'd like to say thank you for all the wonderful reviews I got on the last chapter! I was disheartened since the story was up to 9 chapters and only had 3 reviews. A lot of work went into it, and I get a lot of my inspiration from all of you. For that, thank you deanpala, my lovely guests that took the time to review, Christine, LegacyFalcon, stargazer100, Icey Icee, dalekexterminatora and HerGambitandSwanSong for the reviews on this story.

Bowman shifted his feet, stepping away from the computer. He couldn't help but agree with Sam. He wanted to get back to the forest as quick as possible. And he was absolutely exhausted anyway. Flying all morning, getting captured by a human, attempting a major Prayer, and his failed escape in the dark, metal depths of the walls had pushed his body pretty hard.

Even so, Bowman wondered if he'd get a decent sleep. He had nightmares about getting taken away by humans sometimes even while he was perfectly safe in his own bed. He could only imagine what his dreams would look like here in this unfamiliar place after exactly that had happened. He remembered the first night he ever spent in human captivity, trapped under a bucket on the ground. He'd been helpless to escape, forced to wait until his captor saw fit to let him out. He wondered if Dean would want to confine him like that.

Bowman's wings opened out behind him, in his own stretch. They fluttered a few times, the leafy green membrane catching the light from the computer. Once again the sprite was immensely grateful that Sam had stopped Dean from grabbing him. In his anger and Bowman's complete lack of awareness, Dean would most likely have crushed them completely. Healing a broken wing was possible, but in the meantime Bowman's life would be out of his own hands. Even more so than it was already.

"Where will I rest?" Bowman asked almost cautiously. His eyes wandered the huge room. They lingered on the places where he worried he might be trapped. A drawer on the dresser, a glass flower vase, the immense bag that Dean carried around. Bowman was getting along with the pair of odd brothers, and had even struck up a tentative alliance. But, a small part of him still felt like a prisoner.

Sam thought about his question, glancing around the room. He noticed the worry in Bowman's voice when he asked, almost afraid of what the answer was. Cringing at the thought of how they'd already trapped Bowman in a pocket, Sam hurried to reassure him. "You can sleep wherever you want. The best place is probably under the nightstand with me. You can use some of the blankets from my bed, and it's closed in so we can't be seen by any other humans, but you can always get out. The second bed's an option…" as he listed off the choices, he gestured at the immense bed away from them, covers neat and undisturbed by Dean. Dean's own bed had his duffel bag tossed casually on it from when they'd arrived in the room.

Sam continued on. "I mean, the bed's a little big, but I'm sure the pillow would be comfortable to sleep on. I prefer my own bed, but whatever suits. I'm sure if you don't like closed-in spaces like the nightstand, the human bed is better. Of course, there's always the top of the nightstand, the table, or the dresser, but those will be pretty uncomfortable."

While Sam was going on, Dean pushed his chair out, trying to not disturb the small conversation going on down by his hands. It didn't work out the way he had planned, with two tiny, scathing glares sent his direction when he accidentally bumped against the table. Hazel eyes and uncannily bright green ones turned towards him in perfect sync. With an apologetic grimace, Dean headed to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up for the night. After spending a day dodging zombies and arguing with sprites, he was probably pretty ripe.

Bowman looked around the room at the things Sam mentioned. The gigantic bed, while almost inviting, would probably be a little overwhelming. Aside from being far larger than any actual bed he'd slept on, it would feel so exposed. He'd only ever sleep out in the open if he had some kind of camouflage to keep hidden against his surroundings. The crook of a tree branch had the perfect cover. The giant bed, with its simply patterned covers in all the wrong colors, would feel like sleeping on the ground, waiting for something to come along and snatch him up.

He kept trying to figure out what one of the words Sam repeated might mean. He thought he knew which piece of furniture Sam referred to. There was a small wooden structure between the beds that was neither a dresser nor a table. But ... "Night-stand?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Human things have some of the weirdest names," he pointed out. He opened up his wings, glancing sidelong at Sam. "If that 'nightstand' is better hidden, I'd like to sleep there. Sleeping out in the open is asking for trouble." He couldn't imagine making himself so vulnerable right where anyone could see him. He was giving Dean a chance but Bowman wasn't that sure about the human.

"Definitely," Sam said, agreeing with Bowman. The back of his neck itched constantly when he was out in the open and Dean wasn't around. Too much could go wrong at his size if he wasn't careful, as he knew far too well from experience.

Bowman paused, wondering if he should wait for the once-human to begin climbing. But, Sam's trek across the room would take ages, and Bowman felt some of his curiosity surfacing again. He snickered. "I'll race you," he challenged before walking briskly to the edge of the table and stepping right over the side.

Sam rolled his eyes as Bowman took off without him, unsurprised. He really was a ton like Dean in some ways… not that either of them would everadmit it.

Bowman's wings were open in seconds, pulling out of his dive and carrying him in a graceful, silent glide across the room. He landed next to the apparent 'nightstand' and paused, eyeing the massive books that were set up to hide the alcove within. Bowman hoisted himself up onto the bottom of the thing and crept into the makeshift home. He paused in the doorway formed by a gap in the books to take in the sight.

There was another squarish bed, only sprite-sized (Sam-sized?), and a large bag that Bowman could only assume held many of Sam's things. What drew his interest, though, was the desk in the opposite corner. They didn't have a desk in his house, but he'd definitely seen one before. Bowman edged up to it. He ran a hand over the top cover of a book that rested there. It was a large, cumbersome-looking thing, and the pages seemed to be so thick. He thought of the human notebooks that he'd seen before; Sam must have gotten his paper from those.

Bowman knew he shouldn't linger over any of the things here. It wasn't his home, after all, and though he was curious he did have manners. Sam, at least, had earned that much respect. Bowman instead shifted toward the entrance again, looking out at the room from the strange vantage point.

As the flap of wings died off over by the nightstand, Sam grabbed his bag from where he'd left it near the laptop, digging out the fishhook. Spotting a crack in the table, he braced the fishhook there and stepped off the edge. Bowman wasn't the only one who could do a controlled fall. When he was almost at the bottom, Sam tightened his grip on the line, slowing his descent so when he landed it was with a soft thud instead of a crash. He'd been practicing that particular maneuver ever since ripping up his hands when Isabelle and Nicholas had captured him. If he kept it up, he might end up with calluses on his hands like Dean.

Once the line was looped back up in his bag and the fishhook tucked away, he jogged over to the nightstand, unfazed by the immense distance he had to travel. That was something he'd been used to long before Dean. In fact, getting used to having someone whose shoulder he could perch on whenever he wanted was a lot tougher for him. Dean wasn't small for a human, so from Sam's point of view he was practically the size of a building, yet he had no problem offering a hand to Sam or one of the other people Sam's size (not that they accepted very often; Dean was a lot to take in even when he was trying his hardest to not be intimidating).

When he finally arrived at the nightstand, snug between the two enormous human beds, Sam clambered in with a grin, spotting a green-veined wing catching a bit of light in the space between the books.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked as he came into his little abode.

Bowman glanced around the miniature room once more. "It's interesting. A normal-sized room in a bigger room. Lots of square angles, though I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

Aside from the rather high 'ceiling' and the straight angles in every corner, the room did seem similar to one he might see at home. If he pretended the walls weren't made of long-dead wood, it was as close as he could find to a familiar place in the huge 'motel.' Still a little like sleeping in a box, but at least they hadn't trapped him.

"What's that book for?" he asked, pointing to the thick journal on the desk. Now that Sam was actually there, he could be curious without snooping around. Bowman had known without even opening the cover that he wouldn't have been able to decipher the human's writing. But he did wonder what use Sam had for such a tome.

Sam walked past Bowman, going over to his bed. Without any wasted motions he began to strip off the covers so Bowman could have some cushion to lay on.

"That," he said as he worked, "is a book I found before Dean found me. Back when I was living away from humans completely. I write down anything important... a lot about how to take down the monsters we encounter. Plus what it's like to be so small. It's... one thing I did as a human that I can still do now." Sam stood up with the extra blankets in hand. "You can imagine I have a unique perspective on this size. Though... honestly most days I can't remember what it was like to be human at all." With that said, Sam offered the blankets to Bowman.

Bowman took the offered blankets, one hand absently pinching the material with his thumb. They were softer than they looked. His eyes drifted back to the book as he thought about what Sam said. After spending more of his life small than he'd spent it human-sized, Bowman wondered if there was any frustration left. It was difficult to tell from his tone.

But, he could almost understand what it felt like. Bowman had dealt with a frightening new perspective before, too. "Before humans showed up in the forest, I didn't even know they existed," he explained, looking back at Sam. "I grew up thinking I was pretty tall for my age, and my wings developed so well. I never once thought that we were small." He crouched to lay the offered blankets on the ground, setting up a bedroll for himself.

Learning that there were gigantic beings out there, so widespread and dangerous to the sprites, had been quite a shift. It was impossible not to go from feeling 'normal-sized' to feeling so small when dealing with people that could hold you in one hand. "I discovered Jacob and his friends, Chase and Bobby. People back home almost didn't believe me when I told them Jacob was a whole six feet tall."

Sam shifted uncomfortably at the turn of conversation. "I know just what you mean... Back when I was a kid, before all this happened," he gestured widely at his own body, "I used to think six feet was a normal sized person. But now..." he trailed off, glancing up at the ceiling. It was above their heads, but he knew if Dean walked over to them, the top of the nightstand wouldn't even reach his waist. Once again, Sam found himself wondering how tall he really was compared to his brother and father. He might never know the answer.

"I mean, Dean's a big guy. An inch over six feet, if I'm not mistaken. Not long ago, after he saved me and the others from those disgusting humans who wanted to sell us, he took them back to the motel I used to live in. We knew they'd be safe there, and it was Bree's home originally. She'd been stolen away as a kid by those same humans, given to their daughter as a 'birthday present.' When we were there, Dean finally got to meet my adopted father face-to-face, for the first time ever. You could see how happy he was to be able to thank the man who saved my life and raised me to survive like this, but it took a long time for Walt to get used to Dean. When Dean gets excited about something like that, he kinda reminds me of an overeager giant puppy... he wanted so bad not scare any of them off, but you know his size worked against him..." Sam gave a sigh when he remembered Dean trying to 'help' by getting them food. Size didn't matter to Dean, but Walt and others didn't want him thinking of them as pets...

Sam laughed as he realized how far he'd digressed. He rubbed the back of his neck, sinking into his bed. "Sorry... I guess I never really had anyone my size to talk to about that..."

"It's alright," Bowman answered quickly. He'd been surprised to hear so much out of Sam, especially regarding his reduced size. Sam and Dean clearly got along and trusted each other. There was no doubt of that in Bowman's mind. But, he could also completely understand what Sam was saying. It was tough to have to actually look up at someone all the time just to hold a conversation. No matter how hard he tried, Dean would never quite be able to understand what he looked like to someone sprite-sized.

Sam let out a far more heartfelt sigh, glad Bowman understood. It was hard, not being able to talk to anyone his own size most days. He was at peace with his size for the most part, after discovering that no matter his size he had a family that cared about him. Dean, Bree, Bobby, Walt and John... they would always be there for Sam. Even if Johnwas an intimidating bastard to this day.

Bowman bunched up part of the blankets to work as a makeshift pillow. He settled on his side, tentatively unfurling his wings to rest them on the floor behind him. He remained propped up on one elbow, looking pensive for a moment. "It seems like the bigger the human, the less they realize just how blasted big they really look," he mused. "Jacob is easy to find when he's in the woods, because he stomps around so much. But ... I guess he's okay, for a human. But I can't bring myself to let him near the village, no matter what Rischa says."

Bowman raised his eyebrows, realizing what he'd just said. He knew perfectly well that Sam would have been observant enough to pick up the name Bowman had dropped. "That's my little cousin," he explained after a pause. No point in keeping it a secret when Sam knew about the whole village anyway. "She's got the Voice, so of course every time Jacob visits she reads his heart and has to remind me how trustworthy and careful he is, and how he'd never do anything to hurt anyone and I should let him see the village."

"He sounds a lot like Dean," Sam allowed, putting his confusion about Rischa's 'Voice' to the side for the moment. "Dean would be nervous around a place like that. He's already afraid of taking one wrong step, especially after one time he found a little girl hiding from him. He caught her for the sole purpose of knowing where she was so he wouldn't step on her - she was barely two inches tall. Dean was terrified of hurting her by accident." He smiled at the memory. "Now Kara can't get enough of Dean. She loved coming to our room to play with him while we were holed up with my broken arm healing."

He got settled in his bed, pulling the one cover he'd saved for himself up. "You know, Rischa's probably right, if he's like Dean. A friend like that would never let you down, and he'd probably love to see his friend's home." His smile turned sad. "I know how much Dean wishes he could, but he would never be able to even fit in the places I grew up."

Bowman paused, thrown off by Sam's suggestion. Having someone else in a similar situation put it to him like that, he almost wondered. He knew that Rischa was right. She always was. That was part of her gift, the ability to see the hearts of others thanks to her strong connection to the Earth Spirit. But Bowman had been adamant against a human coming near the village just on principle.

It was the last place that they hadn't changed just by being there. In the village, he still felt normal, not small and fragile by comparison. But, humans or not, his home would still be his home. "Maybe you're right," he answered, laying his head down on his arm. He had left all of the blankets beneath him, and now that he lay down he lifted one wing and draped it over himself.

Jacob probably had earned a glimpse of the village. The human had risked his life to protect the sprites, and Bowman could never repay that. Without Jacob's help, Bowman might have died and Rischa would have been carted out of the forest in a cage to be studied or sold as a pet. Just the thought of how close that had been made Bowman fidget uncomfortably.

"Rischa would probably really like to meet both of you. Maybe ..." he trailed off, still unsure. Really, if Sam and Dean were going to such lengths to help protect a village full of sprites they'd never met, they deserved his trust. Bowman sighed heavily. "Who am I kidding. That kid will probably fly out to find me and lose her mind when she sees I've met new humans. She'd probably try to lead you by the hand right into the center of the village and give you a tour." A smile came to his face as he talked about his young cousin. He really could picture her welcoming Sam and Dean without hesitation.

"She sounds nice," Sam said. Bowman had sounded so worried when he'd mentioned her by accident, she must be very important to him. Like Sam's family, back at the motel. A jolt hit him, making him glad he'd left Dean's contact information with them, in case any problems cropped up. No matter what happened, if a hunter or pest control came there, he and Dean would find a way to save them. They were his family, no matter what came.

Dean shuffled out of the bathroom, brushing his hands through his short, spiky hair. With no way to know where Bowman and Sam had ended up, he cautiously stepped into the room, watching his step like a hawk. His eyes scanned the room, searching for a sign of either of them.

With no one in sight, he grabbed a cup, filling it with water, and dug through his duffel bag. Finding one of his new handkerchiefs (he had to keep a ready supply on hand, they got ruined fast when cleaning monster blood off his equipment on a daily basis), he made his way over to the nightstand.

His socked feet paused right outside the opening between the books and Dean knelt down. With a light, gentle knock, he warned Sam he was outside (as if either of them could miss the giant in the room, but it was polite) and nudged a book out of the way so he could see in.

Sam was already sitting in bed, a cover draped over him. Bowman had his own bed on the floor, one glistening green wing covering him, the other stretched out.

"Sorry to interrupt the slumber party over here," Dean said, a bit of his typical smirk showing through. "Here's another blanket if you need it." He dropped the handkerchief in the entryway with the books, and left the cup of water next to it. He didn't mention it, since he did the same thing everyday. It didn't bear mentioning, just one thing that Sam was too small to do on his own so Dean took care of it for him. If Sam stood straight up, the water would come to mid-chest on the guy, so Dean wasn't worried about them running out during the night. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"Slumber ... party?" Bowman muttered, a bemused look settling on his face. Humans so would celebrate something like sleep, he thought to himself. But he didn't bother asking about it. He propped himself up a little to watch Dean's hands as they set down a huge cup and folded cloth.

With Dean's face leaning in, the illusion of the room was momentarily shattered. Now it was just a box with some sprite-sized furniture in it. At least there wasn't a glass pane or grid of bars on that fourth wall. Just some books. And a really big human.

"Such a gracious host, I'm so glad you invited me," Bowman quipped, unable to resist the snark. Humans tended to inspire that in him. And since Dean and Sam had already agreed to let him go and warn the other sprites before continuing the search, he wouldn't need to worry so much about his smart mouth getting him into trouble. Not that such worries would ever actually stop him from throwing sarcasm around. But it was one more stress he didn't have.

All jokes aside, Bowman was grateful not to be trapped. Well, not as trapped as he could be; the motel room still felt like an oppressively closed space. "Thanks."

"Anytime, small fry," Dean said, letting the snark slide by. "Sam, you good?"

Sam tried to wave Dean off. "You know I can survive the night without you, right?" He saw a flash of hurt flick over Dean's face and sighed. Dean really was just worried for Sam. "Don't worry, Dean," Sam said gently, "we'll be fine."

He settled into his bed, pulling his cover up. The small nightstand room shook around them as Dean picked himself up off the floor, getting into his own bed above them. The rustling of the fabric above them died off as Dean got comfortable.

"Goodnight, Bowman."

With a soft click that echoed above, the room went dark.

A/N

Sam and Bowman have a lot in common, and a lot to talk about. And Dean tries, but he has a bit more trouble fitting in XD

Reviews and favs are love!

And for all readers, there's a contest being held on the tumblr for this series! There's a link to it on my main page.

Next: February 19th