A/N

Thanks to my lovely guests appletopine and Christine for the wonderful reviews last chapter! You all made my week. *sends hugs to both*

If this story seems a little slow compared to my normal ones, I do apologize. The style is different when I mix mine with my cowriter's, and one thing that flows smoother is actual conversations. They are a little more natural because you're not just conversing with yourself.

It may be slow now, but I promise you the action is coming, and some of my best fight scenes so far can be found within. So we hope you enjoy what we came up with!

Dean's answer, or lack thereof, had been unexpected. The few humans Bowman had met, Jacob and his friends, drank beer for fun. They were just goofing around. But Dean ... it was clear from the pensive weight of his voice that Dean's reasons were vastly different.

With the sprite safely off the floor, Dean stretched out his legs. He still found it odd neither of them had heard a peep out of Sam. Usually the smell of coffee was enough to draw him away from sleep.

Whatever the reason, Dean intended to take full advantage of having Bowman to himself for the moment. The little sprite didn't seem as mistrustful of Dean this morning. There were questions Dean had.

"So Bowman," Dean started, using the sprite's name to show he was taking this seriously. "I've been meaning to ask you; you were awfully close to the outskirts of the forest when we ran into you. What brings a little guy like you so close to humans? Isn't it dangerous?"

Bowman was so caught up in wondering what could be on the human's mind that he almost missed the question directed at him. Dean was looking at him intently, his face unreadable. Bowman shifted his jittery wings a little in the sun, but didn't flinch back. "Humans are dangerous whether they're five steps or five miles into the forest," he answered confidently. And, between the two scenarios, he'd much rather know about the giant intruders before it was too late to evade them or do anything about them. "Someone has to patrol beyond the fence, and no one else volunteered, so..." He shrugged.

Bowman crossed his arms to curtail some of the tremors in his hands, though he still idly drummed his fingers on his arm. "As for what I was doing - inmy own home, by the way, thank you very much - I felt something, uh, wrong in the air. I followed it to that boulder. That was where that wolf crawled up to die, and where this lich thing violated its life energy." It seemed his snark was weaving its way into his answers again, so Bowman could only assume he was fully awake now.

However, he didn't remember ever shifting his feet so much or feeling so ready to spring into the air before.

"I was going to go and warn everyone about the weird magic in the air, and about the weird humans running around. But then you got so generous and invited me back here and, Spirit save me, I didn't want to be rude." He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a pointed look at the human. If Dean was going to ask questions, he was going to get his answers, but not without the sarcasm he had definitely earned.

Sam rolled over in his sleep, enjoying a dream where he was eating from a human-sized candy bar, having it all to himself. Just as he went to grab another piece -

He fell out of bed.

With a moan, Sam rolled onto his back, blinking in the light. He was confused for a minute as to why his bed was completely coverless, then he spotted the covers lying nearby.

Oh, that's right. Bowman's here somewhere.

He heard Dean's voice rumbling in the background, clearly talking to someone else that Sam couldn't hear. Hey, at least they're not killing each other. Maybe there's hope for them yet. Hauling himself to his feet, Sam wandered over to his cup of water, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Outside the nightstand, Dean shrugged, unaffected by the annoyance directed at him. "We can't be too careful in our line of work. Letting you escape when you could have been the source of this problem... that might have gotten other people killed, and that's not gonna happen on my watch. You'll get to warn your village, you have my word. We'll make sure of it, whatever it takes."

He peered over at the nightstand when he heard a small thump, curious what Sam was up too. But Dean gave him his privacy back there (at least now that there wasn't a small, unknown sprite with him) and settled back to watching Bowman.

"So, how long will it take to warn your village while we're out there? I want to get this thing taken care of, before it goes after anymore humans orsprites. We're gonna need you backing us up out there."

"Ha," Bowman scoffed, a cocky grin appearing on his face. "You're looking at the fastest flyer in the woods." He held himself more proudly, displaying his wings at their maximum wingspan. "I might be able to out-dive a falcon if the wind was right," he boasted. This was something he'd never try, of course, but he was fairly confident nonetheless.

He thrust his wings downward in one powerful motion, repeating a few times to put himself in the air above Dean's eye level. "The only reason you caught me in the first place is because I underestimated you. I won't make the same mistake again." That said, Bowman darted to the side and within seconds had landed atop the TV. Flying even that short distance brought a bit of a rush. His heart was beating pretty fast, but it wasn't from fear.

Dean really hadn't been lying about that coffee perking someone up in the morning. Bowman was wired.

"Even sprinting on your giant legs, you couldn't cross the forest half as fast as I can," Bowman assured the human. He'd never seen a human at full sprint, but he was quite confident in his own swift wings. "I can probably make it back before you're even done investigating that campsite." That, he knew, might be less likely, considering how long it'd take to explain everything. But that didn't mean he wouldn't brag about it.

Dean's cheek twitched as he tried to hold in a smile. But it was a losing proposition as he watched the sprite dart around the room. "Maybe you can," he allowed. "Just make sure you're careful. We don't want you getting in any trouble when you're out there on your own." He let a little respect slip into his voice for the little sprite. "You must do a good job as sentinel, then." Bowman looked surprised, then pleased with the assessment.

Sam finally managed to shuffle out from under the nightstand with a hand trying to brush his hair into some semblance of normalcy.

"Hey, lookie here," Dean said, grinning broadly. "Sleeping Beauty's decided to grace us with his presence."

Sam glared up at him, disoriented by how even Bowman was looking down on him. So not fair... he thought grumpily. He came up next to Dean's leg, which arched over his head the way it was stretched out. "Dude, it's like five-thirty in the morning. Normal people don't wake up at the ass-crack of dawn peppy." His eyes switched to Bowman, who seemed jittery even from a few feet away. Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Both of you? I can't escape..."

Dean lowered a hand down next to Sam. "Then, in the interest of getting some coffee in you, maybe you'll make an exception and catch a ride?" He arched his eyebrows innocently down at Sam when the little head pointed up at him, considering the offer.

Sam stepped onto his rough palm with light footsteps. "I guess I can make an exception. Just because you're so freakin' annoying without at least alittle energy." He held out his arms for balance as the hand lifted away from the ground, Dean extending to his full height with Sam held at roughly chest-level. He dropped Sam off on the edge of the table and filled a little bottlecap with some of the hot, black coffee. Dean opened up some creamer for Sam, but left his brother to mixing the coffee up himself. They both knew Dean had no luck with mixing up a drink for Sam.

Bowman watched from his vantage point on the gigantic movie-box, once again amazed at how trusting Sam was in Dean's hand. Bowman trusted Jacob to hold him steady, but even if the human dropped him, Bowman needn't worry about the fall. His wings were strong and he could recover from a drop within inches. Back home he was the best at it.

Sam, sadly, could not. And there were even more people like him. People that were sprite-sized, but without any of the advantages of being a sprite. No Spirits to Pray to. No natural adaptations to make them suited for their environments. Only their sharp wit and a hope that the humans wouldn't notice them taking anything.

Bowman, seeing that Sam was by himself on the table, stepped forward off the TV. His wings snapped open just a moment later and he swooped in a graceful glide to the tabletop to join the small human. He stumbled a little, when a full shudder in his wings made his landing less elegant than his initial dive.

With his quivering wings folded loosely to his back, Bowman peered at the plastic container that Dean had left with Sam. Even a few drops of its contents had turned the black coffee a much lighter brown, though Sam certainly had added a generous amount. "I tried some of that coffee ... joe ... whatever it is," he commented. "I'm not used to being so awake so fast."

Sam managed a grunt at the comment. On a normal day, Bowman might have been just as groggy as Sam, if not more so. As it was, his quick sprite metabolism had sent the coffee's perk-up properties careening through his bloodstream. He tapped his fingers rapidly on his arm and glanced over at the metal pieces arranged on one end of the table. He approached them, but stopped cautiously when he realized what they were. Dean's weapon from the day before, the one he'd used to injure the wolf, lay in pieces on a thick piece of cloth.

"That's a ... 'gun,' right?" he asked, looking over at Sam for confirmation.

Normally Sam was more of a morning person than Dean, but Dean waking up before him, plus already having had his coffee, put Sam at a disadvantage. Sam took a long sip from the sweetened coffee, satisfied with the amount of sugar and cream in it.

"Ye-," rasping, Sam paused to clear his throat. "Yeah, that's a gun. It's, a... Colt...? I think? He told me about it before, but it's hard to remember all the details. Yesterday Dean was packing silver bullets, but against the..." Sam laughed, remembering how Dean had put it. "...undead wolf apocalypse, any bullet will do. Silver slows them down but a well-placed shot to the head will take them down, hopefully for good."

Dean walked over to the side of the table that had the pieces of his gun strewn about, heavy boots thumping on the ground and sending the faintest tremors through the table. Sam hadn't even noticed him slip out of the room to get dressed while hunched over his coffee. "With this many wolves, I'm planning on having the sawed-off with me too. It's not gonna be easy taking on a pack."

Dean sat heavily in his chair, large hands curling naturally around the scattered pieces of the gun. Sam and Bowman both watched with fascination as he put the gun together as naturally as he breathed, reassembling it in record time.

The metal pieces looked like nothing to Bowman on their own. Just scraps of shiny material that couldn't possibly be useful by themselves. But the gun took on its more familiar shape right before his eyes. Small bits of metal that Bowman would have thought too small for Dean to grasp were easily slid into place.

The finished product was a weapon with elegant designs engraved into the side of it. It was much more beautiful than the stark black guns that Logan and his partner had brought into the forest. This weapon, this 'colt' still looked fearsome, though. Bowman had seen the kinds of wounds it could inflict on someone, the kind of destruction that followed it.

"I don't know what a sawed-off is," he admitted. "And I never actually saw a gun used until yesterday. But I know that thing will really do some damage. I hope you're careful with it." He made an effort to still his wings. They were practically pulsing, wanting to carry him into the air in restless flight. But with the gun all put together, he would rather keep them tightly furled.

"So when are we going? I don't have to stay in that blasted pocket again, do I? I hated that."

Dean chuckled apologetically. "Unfortunately, the pocket's the only safe place for you and Sam, at least until we're in the Impala. The duffel's bigger, but I have it full of weapons and gear. I don't plan on risking either of you in that."

Standing, Dean tucked the gun away into his pants, hiding it expertly from view. "Trust me, you don't have to worry about me being careful with the gun. I've been handling these since I was a kid. You gotta know what you're doing if your life depends on 'em on a daily basis. The sawed-off's bigger, better for taking down larger monsters. Normally I use salt rounds in it against spirits, but today I'll make an exception. I've got standard ammo in the trunk. Maybe it'll help me hold off the Lich until we can break that phylactery."

Dean grabbed a few more items from around the room, readying himself for the hike. Today he was sure to toss a few extra water bottles in the duffel, along with more of Sam's granola bars. He'd have to restock next chance he got. From what he'd garnered from Bowman, the village wasn't close to the outskirts of the forest, where they'd been the day before. They needed to be prepared.

"Sam, you got everything you need?"

It was almost cute, watching Sam mirror Dean's movements as he checked his knife and the equipment he had stashed in his little satchel. He also had one of the little leather canteens his adopted father had given him on hand and filled. "Ready as I'll ever be," he called up to Dean confidently.

Dean held out a hand, letting Sam climb on it on his own. Sam dropped into the side pocket of Dean's jacket without a qualm, trusting his big brother implicitly. Dean turned to Bowman. "You can come out as soon as we're in the Impala, but until then this is the only safe way to get you there without being seen." Slipping two fingers into the pocket with Sam, he propped it open so the sprite would be able to get in on his own.

A/N

Reviews and favs are love! They're our inspiration to keep writing, and help us develop our skills.

So who thinks Bowman will do the thing and climb into a pocket all on his own? Sam's waiting inside for the verdict!

Next: March 4th