81. Thunder

An echo of thunder rolled around Sean, and he dove underneath the scraps of fabric that made up his ‘nest.’

Standing at only three inches in height, the young boy blinked out at the world from his protective cocoon, huge tears flowing from his eyes. This was wrong. Everything was wrong, and he was scared.

Summoned by the yelp he’d heard, Walt Watch limped around the doorway that lead to the room Sean was staying in. The older man held his side tenderly, and Sean remembered hearing that his entire home had caved in on him, knocking him just out of range of a fire that raged. Walt was as lucky as Sean to be alive.

But at least he was used to being small.

“Hey, there,” Walt said, sitting next to Sean’s protective fort. “How are you hanging in?”

Sean said nothing, just blinked blearily at the older man. Another rumble of thunder came, this time with the rhythmic sounds of footsteps accompanying it. That made him dive down, out of sight. He hated the reminder of how small they were.

Walt put a hand on the top of the piled-up fabric. Krissy and Bennett had given up the extra room for Sean, since he wasn’t used to sharing with anyone the way they were. They were staying in the same room as their mother, and Walt had the room next to Sean’s. The young boy reminded him so much of Sam all those years ago. Afraid and alone and lonely. Forced to confront realities that no child deserved.

“Look, they don’t know we’re here,” Walt said wisely. “They won’t hear us, they won’t bother us. Sam once told me that humans had a way of getting through thunderstorms if young children were afraid. He said to just think of it as God getting a shower, and the thunder as his footsteps. Those humans up there are the same. Just walking around, minding their own business.”

Sean peeked out at Walt. “B-but if they find us…” he said in a half-moan of fear.

Walt ruffled his hair. “They won’t,” he promised. “We’ve got a safe home here. Besides, if it wasn’t for humans, we wouldn’t have much to eat, now, would we?”

Sean blinked back at him, looking unconvinced.

“If you want, I can stick around for a bit,” Walt offered. “Staying in a strange place all alone can be scary.”

Sean rubbed his eyes. “I’d like that,” he said shyly. “It’s just all so… different…”

“Sam said the same thing when we first found him,” Walt nodded. Sean’s wide eyes encouraged him to continue. Though Sean had never met Sam, he’d heard all about his rescuer from Krissy and Bennett. “He was just about your age back then…”

Walt told stories about Sam’s first days cursed until Sean couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer, and the young boy drifted off to sleep.


73. Green


With a startled exclamation, Krissy drew her hand away from the needle she was trying to work with. A droplet of blood glistened on her fingertip, wavering as her hand shook.

“Here, let me see,” Mallory’s soft voice came, and a careful hand wrapped around Krissy’s slim wrist.

Mallory had decided to take the day to show Krissy some of the ropes on her sewing techniques. The boys were all out of the house except for Krissy’s younger brother, Bennett, who stayed back at her place to watch over their ailing mother. Sam and Walt would come back with enough food for both families, with any luck, and they would help support each other as best they could. It was good for Krissy to get out from time to time like this. She needed to get some space to herself, and she was one of the most adept people when it came to tiny, intricate movements.

They’d begun with dethreading some of the fabric Sam had found for them. A combination of blues and greens, Mallory was thrilled to have some color to work with for once. Krissy had claimed the green, and was trying her best to mimic the sewing techniques of Mallory. She was getting there, and one day might be able to make clothing like the jeans and jackets Sam and Walt were so fond of. Human designs really were versatile, no matter than they made the Watch family stand out among people their own size. It wasn’t like they went to gatherings very often.

Mallory blotted the blood from Krissy’s hand. “It’ll get easier as you go,” she said with a gentle smile. She held out her hand. As small and slim as her fingers were, the fingertips were covered with calluses from long years of sewing. Mallory poked at her fingertip with a needle. “I can barely feel it now,” she said with a grin.

Krissy’s eyes were wide. At just over seventeen, she idolized the older woman. Mallory was one of the few staples in her life, which was why she’d claimed all the green fabric. It was Mallory’s favorite color. If Krissy could make something to thank her with, it would need to be green.

Once her finger stopped throbbing, Krissy resumed her careful actions. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth and she concentrated hard on the fabric, determined to make the green dress that she saw in her mind a reality.


21. Music

This prompt takes place between the events of Taken and Schism, while Sam’s arm was healing and Dean stayed at the motel for three months (a record, for Trails West ).

It was late, but Krissy found herself wandering the passageways and vents in the walls on her own.

Normally, she would wait until someone else was willing to go. She didn’t like to venture close to the human rooms on her own. Lessons drilled into her mind from her father and her mother, back in those happy years before everything had changed, taught her the dangers of humanity.

Those lessons stuck fast after her father was gone, and her mother withdrew from the world, leaving Krissy and her young brother Bennett to fend for themselves.

Walt was amazing. He’d come to live with them after Krissy had dragged him out of the ash herself, saving his life as he’d saved theirs since. He helped find enough food for everyone to eat, brought home more supplies than Krissy ever dreamed of finding on her own now that her best friend Sam was gone.

Of course, Sam was back now, along with his older brother.


No one had ever expected them to reappear, Krissy least of all. She knew Walt had hoped to see his erstwhile adopted son again, but those were dreams and fantasies best left to musings. Sam appearing on her doorstep had been the last thing she’d ever expected.

And so she wandered, and wondered.

Sam’s arm was broken, so he was staying in the walls with them until he healed. She’d noticed a nervousness about him that hadn’t been there when he left with Dean. It wasn’t hard to figure out that his recent injury had forced him to confront truths better left to the subconscious.

He was afraid, just like her.

Krissy paused at the slits of a vent, drawn to the light. She knew what room she was over, and only just managed to get herself close enough to see out. She didn’t want to risk the human glancing up and seeing her.

The large hunter was sprawled out on his bed. The television was on in the background, but the sound was turned off. In his hand was curled what she’d heard called a… ‘music player,’ or an ‘iPod.’

Humans sure had strange names for things.

Dean was wearing earbuds, so Krissy let her guard relax a little. She could hear the music, a soft rock that Sam had talked about while they were growing up, leaking from the buds. He’d never hear her with those on. Even a hunter’s senses could be dampened down.

For a moment, she stared at him, trying to imagine him standing at the same height as Sam. He didn’t look that scary, not laying on the bed, his eyes closed and his face so peaceful. Kara talked about him nonstop, and for a moment Krissy could see it.

Then her phobia caught up to her and she stumbled away from the edge of the vent. The soft music vanished, and her breath caught as she realized he might have heard that.

“Sam?” came a deep call, a hopeful note resounding in it. For over three weeks Sam had been in the motel, and Krissy knew that he hadn’t gone back to see Dean yet.

She slowed her breathing and pulled herself out of sight around a corner. A shadow dampened the light, and she covered her mouth.

“Sammy? That you? I’ve got some salad, if you wanted to come visit…” Dean’s voice trailed off, sounding forlorn and lost. Krissy had to blink back surprise at that.

The light came back, and she heard the human stomping away.

Maybe she’d see how Sam was feeling. Human or not, Dean sounded lonely. No one deserved to be forgotten like that.


68. Witchcraft

Well, I think this is as good a time as any for a visit from my favorite witch herself, Celeste!

Celeste let a look of disgust cross her face as she stared down her opponent.

The others in the coven were pallid, weak, disgusting excuses for witches. Celeste stood tall, her own powers outstripping them by far.

“I will not share my secrets with others,” she declared loudly, her eyes bright with distaste for having to deal with such lowly servants.

The leader stood, slowly uncoiling from her stone chair. “You stand against us?” she ask in a throaty growl, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing.

“I do not care where you stand,” Celeste replied back, her voice as mild as it ever was. Blonde, tall, and busty, she cut an intimidating figure wherever she went, a boon to the glamor she wore to cover up her true form. If they could see her original body… well these women would not be so keen on learning her secrets. Not all paths were desired, no matter that immortality could be hers to give and share with them.

“You must stop you experiments,” the leader commanded. Black robes coiled around her, sometimes giving the impression of smoke.

Even their glamor was predictable.

“Perhaps you would like to be the next I experiment on,” Celeste said, still mild.

A collective gasp came from those ringing where she stood. “But I thought it only worked on children! ” a woman on the left exclaimed. Her child was one of the ones Celeste had taken for herself.

Celeste stared straight at her, refusing to allow these women anonymity. “You know nothing of me. And little of my powers.”

Bored with the conclave, she ripped her hand through the air. The leader of the coven was tossed against the wall, and Celeste advanced while the others withdrew.

“You will not interfere with me,” Celeste hissed. “Or I shall have your entrails for dinner. I have been given a task by he who rules Hell himself, and no one shall stand in my way.”

Then she was gone, and all that proved she’d been there was a brand, burned into the lead witch’s forehead and glowing with the brightness of the sun. The women wailed as they read the message she had left.

Her true name.