Warnings: Strong language
Author's Notes: Written for spn_summergen 2009. I had too much fun with this *puts crackpipe down* Big thanks to my awesome beta pdragon76 . Prompt: The Boys vs. Lilliputian adversaries. You decide what the wee beasties are.

Summary: Sam and Dean find out fairies have feelings too.

()()()

He dove head first into the corner behind a large wooden cabinet, Sam hot on his tail.

Dean rubbed the pulsating lump on his head. "What the fuck were those?"

Sam slid clumsily on his heels, crashed to the floor on his ass and hit the wall with his left shoulder. He panted hard, looked worriedly towards his brother. "Erm… fairies?"

"Dude." Dean would have laughed if he wasn't out of breath, not to mention completely stumped by what he'd just seen. The 'fairies' may have been no bigger than six inches in height but they fought as good as any average human. Sure felt like it after being sucker punched in the gut, then flung like a puppet through the air. He'd scuffed his knee on the floor pretty good, the ache making itself known under the worn fabric of his jeans. The fuckers were fast; Dean had barely dodged the thrown picture frame that sent him fleeing to the corner behind the cabinet. Sam hadn't escaped unscathed under the assault. they were both getting whooped good and proper. These 'fairy' powers were out of control. "Ain't like any fairies I've seen."

Sam turned to him utterly bemused. "You've seen fairies?"

"I'm looking at one now, aren't I?" He smirked and loaded his shotgun, scooted forward then shifted his weight onto his haunches. Dean leaned out into the room, using the cabinet as cover.

"Seriously, Dean, you've seen fairies before?" Sam asked again with less triviality in his voice.

"Sam…Dude--focus. We're getting our asses handed to us by frigging six-inch-bug creatures."

Sam sighed but dropped the subject. He moved into a squat, checked his clip.

"So, how do we kill these things?" Dean turned briefly when he got no response. Saw his brother's blank and solemn face. "Jesus Chris, what are you, five? God, Sam…NO, I haven't seen fairies before. Happy now? Can we go back to the killer fairies?"

Sam nodded, apparently satisfied enough to continue.

"You have some serious issues, dude," Dean told him.

"We both do," Sam announced as he ducked a propelled wine bottle that shattered on the wall behind them. "Shit."

Dean felt the spray of red spill down his back. He turned to Sam and licked his lips, the matured fruity vapours still in the air. "Such a waste of good stuff." Dean drew back from his crouch position and leaned against the wall. He picked out the saturated label from the shards of glass. The Chateau Margaux dated back to 1949, and Dean was no wine expert, but it was a no-brainer that it must have cost an arm and a leg.

"I don't think we can save the Perry's vintage wine collection, almost half of it's already on the basement floor."

"Sam…right now, I'm more concerned about saving our own asses. Maybe you should call Bobby while we still can."

"Yeah, you're probably right. This wasn't what I was expecting when he said there were a few beasties to take care of in a friend's basement."

Bobby had recommended this 'open 'n shut…' case which was turning out to be an open can of worms. Come to think of it, he probably knew exactly what they were dealing with. The case had payback for their previous prank written all over it.

"Get the man on the phone, Sam. My patience is growing thinner by the minute. I'm about to torch this whole joint if he doesn't give us a way to kill these sons of--"

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, "Cool it, Dean. We knew he'd get us back sooner or later. I'm sure he's expecting our—Bobby, hi…"

Dean took a deep breath, calmed himself enough to listen in to the conversation on the phone. It didn't last long. He caught 'ya idjits' roll off a gruff sniggering voice, the rest a blur of Sam's passive and trying-to-keep-it-together tone.

When Sam was done with the subdued banter, he was shaking his head disapprovingly. Whatever was coming, it wasn't good.

"You're not gonna like this," Sam said, looking more and more uneasy.

"Dude, spill…I just wanna get this over with."

()()()

"No fucking way, Sam. No."

"Dean, there's no other way. We can't kill 'em, looks like we just gotta suck it up 'n do what we gotta do. Face facts that Bobby got us good this time."

()()()

Dean waited while Sam ripped off a piece of his undershirt then handed it to him. He took the fabric and looked at his brother, stern faced, Sam mirroring the dour expression.

It was clear they were both pissed, tired, bruised. They needed a hot shower and then a bed, which meant manning up and getting shit done. Even if it meant a humiliating encounter with fairies, one of which Dean was sure they would never hear the end. Dean tied one end of the torn white fabric to a piece of wood he'd found in the rubble. Pointed to Sam before mentioning, "Dude, you're doing the talking."

"Whatever, let's just do this."

Dean stole a moment to growl deeply before he stalked out behind the cabinet waving the make-shift white flag. Sam followed close behind him.

Another wine bottle flew towards them before Sam could even finish his sentence.

"Whoa…hey, we just want to talk." Talk? Thank God, Sam was here to do the talking because Dean didn't want to talk. He wanted to do lots of other things, many excruciating things to these fugly creatures and talking certainly didn't even make the list. Dean patted his right calf where he still had an iron rod strapped to his leg. Iron may not kill them but he wasn't taking chances on their kiss 'n make up going wrong.

Who knew fairies — who couldn't be killed — could get angry and sometimes needed counselling or a group hug session?

"I'm gonna kill Bobby." Dean said it out loud, interrupting Sam who gave him a sharp nudge on his shoulder.

"So, what we're trying to say is… sorry." Sam cleared his throat and continued. "No harsh feelings. The residents are happy to continue cohabiting as long as everyone respects each other's wishes." When Sam finished he turned to Dean with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

They heard a frenzy of movement before the little creatures came into view. Their iridescent wings buzzing rapidly as they circled and flew between them. Dean had no idea what fairies sounded like but he didn't have to wait long to find out.

"We have a list," one of them said. Their voices were painfully high pitched and surprisingly human like.

It would have been interesting to hear what was on the list but the words spilt out before Dean could register the consequences. "Well, we have guns."

---End---

A/N: reviews are my nectar folks =)

And anyone waiting for the last chapter of 'The Green Mile' its coming soon. Thanks for being patient, Mwah!