You are knocking it out of the park! Two for two! And another sneak peek!


Ahead of Dean, the footsteps continued and it didn’t take long for another man to come into view. He wore clothes that looked more suited for roughing it out in the woods, and carried his own duffel bag on a shoulder. His boots and the cuffs of his own jeans were worn and spotted with mud, signs that they’d been on many hikes before.

He spotted Dean quickly, too, and there was a silent tension in the air as the newcomer sized him up. They were about the same height, though the new guy had a slightly blockier build than Dean did. He wore a gun holster at his side, though it remained ignored as the man stopped his approach warily.

“You’re no ranger,” he called out, keeping plenty of distance between them while they still figured out what was going on. “What brings you this far into the woods?”

Dean planted his boots in place, crossing his arms over his chest. His colt was tucked into his pants, hidden out of sight unlike the other man’s gun.

“Last I checked, rangers don’t come back here,” Dean said. “Private property and all that.” He shifted position, pulling an ID out of his jacket. “Name’s Dean Ford,” he said confidently, holding it out for the other man to take. “I’m here to investigate the strange rumors floating around.”

The man’s mouth twitched, almost in a smirk before he controlled his expression. “Rumors,” he echoed, taking the chance to inch forward. He squinted at the ID and found nothing out of place on it, but he was still clearly keyed up. He obviously hadn’t expected to meet Dean out there any more than Dean had expected to see him.

“Logan Guthrie,” he introduced himself, though he didn’t offer to shake Dean’s hand just yet. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m just a friend of a friend of the landowner. Did he hire you to come out here?”

Dean shook his head as he stowed his fake identification in his jacket, a smirk of his own hiding in his eyes. “Sorry, but my clients have asked to remain confidential,” he said in a business tone of voice.

With the ID card out of his hands, Dean let his shoulders slouch so it seemed like his guard was down and he offered Logan a wry smile. “Can’t say it’s my normal line of work, though. Any chance you’ve heard more about these ‘forest fairies?’ ” He screwed his face up while he talked, enunciating the words like they were the strangest he’d ever said.

Logan’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head pensively. He appraised Dean once more and mulled over his own information. It was too late to say he was just out there for a walk. They both had gone past the fence.

“A bit,” he hedged. Logan hadn’t found the article until recently, but once he dug up more information on the place, he’d had to come out. He knew what kinds of danger could lurk behind the simple, innocuous concept. ‘Forest fairies’ indeed. It made them sound so innocent. “Enough to have heard what they call themselves, if they’re really out here.”

“Then maybe you can help me out,” Dean offered magnanimously.

February 25th excerpt:

Dean grunted as the blow struck him hard. His arms loosened around Logan’s legs, and he fell on his side, dazed. The grass he was lying near danced across his vision, doubling and tripling as Dean blinked, trying to erase the ringing from his ears.

Sam… Jacob…

February 24th excerpt:

“Goddammit! ” he bellowed.

He twisted around to turn his glare on Dean instead. “Look what you’ve done now,” he hissed. He shoved at Dean’s shoulders. One leg tried to kick at Dean’s ribs. It fell short and foliage on the ground stirred from the violent motion.

“Fucking let go, you maniac!” A backhanded swing aimed for Dean’s head.

February 23rd excerpt:

Bowman didn’t know which of the two to focus his incredulous look upon. Sam and Dean differed in size more than Bowman ever thought a pair of brothers could. Sam and Jacob combined hardly made an impression on Dean’s palm. They might be bulkier than any sprite Bowman knew, but they were still so small compared to Dean.

Dean, a colossal man taller than a tree sapling. He held all of the power, but he lent it to Sam by never trying to speak over him or go against what he said. Bowman thought back to the sight of that massive hand settling over the pocket after Sam and Jacob went into it, and it looked less like entrapment and more like protection as he replayed it.

February 22nd excerpt:

He couldn’t read Dean’s face, despite it being almost all he could see. The intense look in those green eyes coupled with the dispassionate announcement planted a seed of doubt. If Sam and Jacob didn’t have as much influence as they thought, Dean could do whatever he wanted about it and Bowman could offer no resistance. His heart fluttered, but he tried to draw himself up to his full height anyway and lifted his chin defiantly. “Where are you taking me?”

Dean glanced down at the sprite as he tucked the jar against his side. “Away.”

February 21st excerpt:

Before they could drop back down into the pocket to get out of the way, Dean got a finger to tap against both of their heads, ruffling the messy bedheads of the smaller pair and generally messing them up more. Then, Dean patted his pocket, and that was the last straw that sent Sam tumbling down, off balance.

“I hate you,” drifted up at them from the bottom of the pocket.

February 20th excerpt:

As his two little brothers returned to safety, Dean shifted in place with a content mumble. He briefly reached across to itch at the arm they’d climbed up, rubbing the fabric where Sam and Jacob’s path had been. Then, he rested the hand close to the pocket, a thumb draped over the bottom. Letting out a deep sigh, he sank fully back into sleep.

February 19th excerpt:

Bowman stared between them as he contemplated. Finally, his wings relaxed and stopped crowding the glass walls around him. His shoulders slumped and his exhaustion from a stressful day became more obvious. “You … you two live in that one’s pocket,” he said, gesturing at Dean. “Why would you wanna stay in there?”

Jacob paused, for a moment bemused by the thought of actually living in Dean’s pocket. “We use the pocket to stay hidden. We don’t want that other human to see us.”

February 18th excerpt:

The fabric of the pocket shifted around Sam, and for a moment he thought it was Dean waking up. But he soon came to realize that the surface they lay on was steady. Dean’s chest rose and fell with a slowness only found in sleep, his heartbeat constant.

Jacob.

Sam’s eyes snapped open and he instinctively grabbed Jacob’s ankle before his younger brother could get all the way out of the pocket.

“Whatareyoudoing?” Sam mumbled, blinking blearily.

February 17th excerpt:

Bowman glanced up from the food he was examining and then looked away from Dean almost immediately. Giants, he discovered, could drink enough water in one gulp to swallow up an entire sprite. Bowman’s instincts, a deep-seated fear of predators, barked at him that he could be next. He shuddered, but pushed the thought aside. Judging by the way Dean kept the jar close by when he was around, he would rather keep Bowman, maybe like the people in his pocket.

He eyed the drop of water spilled by Dean’s offered bucket. It was tough to decide if that was better than Logan’s plan for him.