April 20th excerpt:

Dean couldn’t hide a scowl, backing into a corner in the hopes of evading her. He knew it was hopeless, but he had to try.

The grab that came was quick and decisive. Instead of trying to pry him out, she merely nudged a finger against his legs, prodding hard enough to bruise the skin by his kneecap. With a cry, he tumbled to his knees and found himself swept up into a light grasp, a familiar hold used on stubborn borrowers.

April 19th excerpt:

Dean’s pocket was taller than Oscar, but for a kid who grew up knowing how to climb, that was more of an inconvenience than a hindrance. He hoisted himself to his feet, and then some. Hand over hand, Oscar pulled himself up to the edge of the pocket with a heavy heartbeat cheering him on just inches away.

The pocket flap gave him trouble. Oscar reached the top edge and clung to it with one hand. The other pushed against the flap awkwardly, letting in sporadic bursts of outside light before it fumbled back into place.

What would happen if Full-size Jacob, Sam, and Dean all met Oscar at the same time?

Oscar ball.

That’s a lot of tall people to deal with all at once, and Oscar isn’t even very tall for a borrower/little/etc. He’d take one look at them and curl up as small as he can make himself. With three sets of eyes on him like that, from so high up, his poor little heart would be pounding.

Of course, it wouldn’t matter how stern the seasoned hunters might try to be about the potential danger. Once Oscar starts crying (and he would probably cry over this), Jacob will be his defender. Do not mess with him. Making such a little guy cry is illegal.

February 9th excerpt:

“You should live a little,” Dean said dryly, the sound of someone talking to a brick wall. “Have a little fun in your life.”

“I’m fine here,” Sam insisted. “Me an’ Stan will see what we can find about borrowers.”

Sneak Peek

The story continues for the Consulted crew in A Day of Duality!


Sam shifted in place as John stopped, blinking at the world around him. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked blearily, pulled out of a daydream he’d fallen into during the walk.

Then Sam heard it too. A faint cry in the air, something easily overlooked. His ears pricked up, and he paid close attention to the back of his neck, alert for anyone other than John around the alley. “Sounds like someone’s hurt,” Sam said, glancing around. That didn’t sound like the call of an injured animal, and out in London that was less likely to happen.

“Yeah,” John agreed, stepping gingerly into the alley. For a voice to be that soft, one of two things had to be true. On the one hand, it could be an injured human in the far distance, in which case John would have to be incredibly careful with Sam.

No one would speak of it, but since Sam’s kidnapping all those weeks ago there was an enhanced sense of responsibility between John and Sherlock to protect their friends. There was a much greater risk to anything that ran the chance of Sam or Dean being seen. Other humans were always a wild card, especially strangers.

Then again, on the other hand, the voice could seem distant because the person it belonged to was a borrower, closer to Sam and Dean’s size.

John didn’t know which he dreaded more. Even so, something in him wouldn’t let him turn his back on someone who needed help.

Sam was attentive as John went, his ears tuned to the voice they’d heard on the wind. There was no sense that they were being watched, no feeling of eyes on him, so he frowned, wondering who could have called for help.

“Do you think–” Sam started, then cut himself off.

Down on the ground of the alley, he’d caught sight of motion against the ground. Just a flicker, but there.

Sam might have passed it off as a mouse hiding from John if he hadn’t spotted color.

Nudging John in the neck, Sam motioned at the ground. “Watch it, I think someone’s here.”

Sneak Peek

Since the story name was guessed while the excerpts were still posting, here’s a special sneak peek of Far From Home!


The car came to a halt, and the engine cut out. High heels clicked their way around the car, and once more the door opened. This time, there were two voices instead of just the one.

“What were you thinking? The ritual has to be tonight. We can’t risk it just because you got nervous, Cee.”

The next person to talk had the voice of the secretary that had helped Dean. “I was thinking that this is a hunter, and we can’t risk having him on the loose.” Unlike earlier on in the day when she’d fawned over Dean, her voice was confident and assured. “Or did you forget the last hunter that happened to come across our coven, Dee?”

Dean’s body shifted, and then was lifted up by the two women. The cadence of walking was much different, and Jacob found himself lying on top of Dean like they were watching TV in the motel room, swinging from side to side.

“Besides,” Cee’s voice went on, “three blood sacrifices are needed for the blood moon, right? This is kismet, not bad luck. Unlike the children, no one’s going to miss one little hunter, all on his own.”

Then Dean was dropped to the ground and propped up, and the faint rustling sound of a rope being tied was all that could be heard as the man was secured.

Jacob kept a hand over his mouth while the two women worked. Part of him knew there was no way they’d hear his rapid breathing or pounding heart, and yet every second he worried he’d see a hand diving into the pocket after him with well-manicured nails ready to snatch him up. Thankfully, the hand never came, and he was left in the pocket as the final knot was pulled tight.

He heard a weak whimper from close to Dean, and his heart fluttered. It sounded like another woman, this one much younger than the others. Missing kids, the distracted thought flashed across Jacob’s mind to join the flurry of his other thoughts. Footsteps faded away with talk of more preparations for the sacrifice, but Jacob’s attention turned inward.

Blood moon. Sacrifice. Kismet? They had arrived in the nick of time. 

The only problem was Dean was captured, and most of his weapons waited back at the motel.

Quiet As a Mouse

neonthewrite:

image

1)  This prompt came in ages ago and I’m 99% sure it was actually meant for @nightmares06, but I hoarded it anyway.

2)  It’s a really cute idea and also the thing I wrote did not end up exactly like this (since most borrowers probably don’t pray) but I think it fits pretty well.

3)  My failed sneak peek guessing game was referring to this story. Surprise. It was Cas all along.

4)  Long-ish read, about 2k words. Couldn’t find a good place to split it up. 

¯_(ツ)_/¯


“Quiet as a mouse.”

One of Oscar’s favorite phrases, the words became something of a mantra for him when he went out looking for supplies. He had long since forgotten where he learned it. So many people came and went every day, and so many of them left the TV on full volume. Any one of them could have taught him about it.

As far as Oscar was concerned, “quiet as a mouse” was the ultimate goal. He’d learned a lot from his furry neighbors within the walls. The motel offered a haven, but only so long as no humans knew they were there.

Oscar had known the comings and goings of the mice for years. He’d taken a trick or two from them. His steps were as silent as theirs were, so his cloth-wrapped feet could carry him undetected through even the dustiest of passages.

These skills kept him hidden day in and day out checking rooms. Even occupied rooms never noticed his passing by. Humans often wouldn’t even imagine someone like Oscar (or even just a mouse) would be around.

He told himself this over and over, and still he was afraid now.

Out in a room, hanging from the back of the nightstand, Oscar was frozen. The crumbs stuffed into his cloth bag were heavier than ever on his shoulder, and his hands gripped the lamp cord with white knuckles.

The room was supposed to be empty.

Keep reading

August 4th excerpt:

The moment those fingers closed around him, Jacob felt his heart skip a beat. Even knowing Dean wouldn’t hurt him or keep him trapped like that, he couldn’t help the bolt of pure instinct that raced through his system. Until Dean opened his hand, he was trapped, truly and completely.