Sneak Peek

A few story titles were guessed before we started posting the sneak peeks to go along with them, so with no further ado I present Clash of the Hunters!


The second Jacob’s hands were on the cage, Dean was on the move.

As dangerous as it was to attack with Sam still in the line of fire, there would be no better chance. The hunter had lost his gun. Jacob was free and had his hands on the cage containing the sprite, reducing the chances of collateral damage of a fight between the older hunters.

Sam knew the risks as well as Dean.

So while Jacob was backing off from the hunter with Bowman safe, Dean was already sprinting through the field. Long legs covered the ground that had taken Sam a half hour to cross in seconds. His boots dug fissures in the ground with the force of striking the ground, all to propel him towards his enemy. It was enough that if any of the sprites were in his way, there would be nothing left of them.

But they knew when to keep clear and when to attack. Scar was a good leader, and would see his opening just as Dean had found his.

The hunter hadn’t fully turned in Dean’s direction when there was suddenly a fist slamming into his jaw. Dean didn’t waste a second in his attack. The man was thrown backwards from the force, and his pocket slammed away with him. Only a passing guilt hit at the fact that Sam was about to be in the center of two dueling humans. He would do what he could to keep Sam safe, even during the deadly fight.

It was for this reason that he didn’t use his knife right off the bat. Instead of a vicious follow-up, Dean’s hands sealed around the other hunter’s wrist, preventing him from falling at the same time as he prevented a counterattack. Either could be disastrous for Sam.

“You think you can come in here and terrify a bunch of peaceful sprites?” Dean snarled. “Threaten to cut their wings off and trap them in cages? This forest is under my protection.”

A flurry of leaves blew up around them as the wind kicked up.

“Mine. And theirs.”

No worries, the faq is not the most friendly for mobile! (There’s a mobile-friendly version here, but this isn’t in the faq anyway)

Dean would definitely be harsher, but he wouldn’t kill Sam right away (one of the times it’s really, really good Sam was found by Dean and not by certain other hunters).

He would likely close his hand around Sam much tighter, though, and confiscate the knife from him before anything else. If Dean takes the time to look at the knife, there would be a lot more shock and demands of where did you get this and Sam completely confused and winded by it all, likely ending up under a vase until they both realize why they have matching knives, and then guilt for the ages for Dean.

May 8th excerpt:

Dean bumped into a chair. He froze in surprise, his entire body going rigid the same way Sam’s did when a light came on. A door clicked in the distance, and Dean pulled out his colt, prepared for the moment the thief came around the corner.

That never happened.

Instead, the man came up behind Dean. A bat flew out of the dark, smashing into Dean’s face. He was tossed onto his back with a grunt of pain, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. He couldn’t pull his mind together enough to stop someone’s hands from grabbing him and shoving him into a chair. He couldn’t get his hands free before handcuffs snapped around his hands, anchoring him to the chair as the same was done with his legs while a rope was loosely wrapped around to keep him against the back of the chair. He couldn’t stop the duct tape when it was shoved over his mouth. Blood trickled down from his nose as the light overhead snapped on.

A sneering face leaned in close, bad breath all he could smell. “You thinkin’ to take dem back?” the thief leered at Dean. “I think I’ll be keepin’ these little sweets for myself. Better get yerself comfortable. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

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December 5th excerpt:

Dazed and bruised, Sam was operating wholly on instinct as he heard someone entering the flat. “You son of a bitch,” he slurred, weakly trying to push his arm from where it was braced to pin him down.

Instincts guided his other hand, and Sam’s fingers wrapped around a familiar hilt. One he’d always kept at his side, but never wielded against another person.

In a flash, Sam’s silver knife was at the man’s throat, trying to force a stalemate.

October 8th excerpt:

The EMF reader didn’t give him a breath to wait for an answer before it flared to life, its red lights glowing brightly. There was a telltale wobble in a bedframe leaned against the wall, before it tilted away from its position, with no warning other than the creak of cheap old metal.

“Whoa!”

Dean leapt to the side, barely sidestepping out of the way of the heavy furniture. Mere moments ago, it was as stable as anything in the room. Now, it slammed into the ground with a heavy knock.

He hit the ground a foot away, going straight to a crouch. “Sam? Jacob?”

June 26th excerpt:

The dodge wasn’t enough. The giant’s hands eclipsed their escape route, massive fingers brushing Dean’s side even as he fired what he could into the wall of skin rushing at him. Those fingers curled inexorably around him, and for the first time in his life, Dean felt small.

He lost sight of Sam in that grasp, but knew that it had to look the same. Unless Sam had by some miracle escaped, they were about to be captured by a giant. “No!” Dean cried out, trying to twist away from the thick, creviced skin closing in around him.

A massive thumb, bigger and more powerful than Dean could ever be, brushed down in front of him and in seconds his arms were forced to lower.

February 12th excerpt:

Dean shoved Sam in the opposite direction. “Now!” he shouted.

Sam would know what to do.

In unison, the two brothers tossed themselves forward with their knives. Almost at the same time, twin silver blades cut into the hands, one on each side. They needed to get the hands out of their way. If they couldn’t manage that, they wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance at escaping.

January 16th excerpt:

“Leave him alone!” Sam cried out, his mind clearing instantly at the sight of the imminent threat. He tossed himself at the huge hand and slashed down with his knife. All he knew was Dean needed help, and it didn’t matter how big his enemy was.

His aim true, the silver knife bit into the thick skin.

So far, Dean has only been knocked out and tied up with Sam around. This will come up in the future, though. Good ways for Sam to help out big bro would be carefully talking Dean through an injury if it’s too big for Sam to handle, keeping Dean from slipping into sleep when he might have a concussion, even taking a bullet out of a wound. His hands are the perfect size to slip in and grab it.

Sam hasn’t hurt Dean yet, either physically or emotionally. The closest is Dean having to see Sam afraid of him after the events of Taken. Even Sam’s hurt by those automatic reactions, he just can’t stop them.

The Cat

BA Canon: No

Timeline: After The Schism of Fire and Water

Original Post: Sam Verses Cat ( you wanted Dean, here he comes! This will be a little bonus prompt )


( Part 2 of 2 )

Dean shoved the plates and silverware set up on the table out of his way, gently laying Sam down on a dishcloth. “Hang on, Sammy,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

Sam groaned, trying to sit up. “Dean…” he gritted out. “Cat…”

“I took care of it. Don’t worry, it can’t reach you, pint-size.” Carefully, Dean pushed on Sam’s chest, forcing him to lie still. “Just give me a minute. I need to grab supplies.”

Sam sagged back down, letting Dean take over. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second Dean panicked until he saw the small chest move up and down. Only then did he get up. Supplies… he needed supplies. He hadn’t brought supplies in with him. Something to disinfect the slashes, something to wrap them up with. It would be impossible to give Sam stitches.

Shoving away the panic welling in him, Dean opened up the door again. The cat was waiting outside and tried to shove its way past him. Angrily, Dean grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. He locked the cat up in the kitchen. The people who owned the house would be back soon enough, they could let it out.

The bathroom next to the kitchen had a first aid kit. He grabbed it and ran back to the dining room. Sam was still slumped down, only this time he was unconscious. Dean cursed under his breath.

With great care, he removed the jacket Sam had on, wincing at the slashes that raked the back. Another jacket down for Sam…

Dean gently dropped it to the side, then had to take off the tiny t-shirt his brother had on. He maneuvered the small, fragile arms so they didn’t get caught as he stripped it off. Sam’s body was limp as Dean held him up, shifting his brother so he was lying facedown on the hand.

Four bright red lines stretched across the hunter’s lean back. Blood caked every part of him, more welling up as Dean watched. Hurriedly, he pressed a wet rag against the cuts, wiping off the blood and covering them up while he got an alcohol pad ready. “This is going to hurt,” he warned his brother’s unconscious form before pressing it against the cuts.

Knocked out or not, Sam writhed in pain at the contact. Dean bit his lip, forcing himself to not move. He stroked it down the cuts, cleaning off more blood and sterilizing the wounds. Dabbing a wet paper towel against Sam’s back cleaned off the rest of the blood before he decided to try wrapping it.

With one hand occupied, Dean had to use his teeth to rip the gauze and start unraveling it. Once he had enough, he put a sterile cloth against Sam’s back and began to steadily wrap the gauze around the other hunter, trying to avoid making it too tight. He sighed when he was finished, carefully checking his work to make sure he’d covered the full injury.

Sam started to shiver, from cold and blood loss. Dean cupped him against his chest. “It’s okay, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”


( Part 1 )


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