July 21st excerpt:
Sam might have seen all this if an invisible hand hadn’t grabbed him in an unrelenting grip, tossing him heedlessly into the cage. One shoulder rammed painfully into the bars, the door slamming shut behind him and the metal melting together until there was no entrance and no door.
Trapped, with no way out.
December 6th excerpt:
Don’t let anyone ever own you, came in Dean’s voice. Sam might not be able to keep himself from being taken away, but he could fight back with everything he had.
“I should have known,” Sam said, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re better than me because you’re taller.” He struggled to draw in a breath. Something in him refused to quit, no matter how foolish it was to backtalk a human. The memory of cages was trying to wash rational thought away, and if that happened Sam would be curled into a ball, no more useful than a mouse pup. Just like the last time he was trapped, by Sherlock.
But this time there was no John to let him out. No Dean to help him fight back. Just Sam, more alone than he’d been in years.
November 27th excerpt:
“Do you have any idea where you’re going?” Sherlock griped as Dean directed him across the street. Knowing every road and back-alley in London was only so much help when Sherlock was being led by a tiny man on his shoulder who hadn’t set foot outside in over a decade.
Dean rolled his eyes. “No,” he said pointedly. “The only times I’ve been outside in London, I’ve either been on your shoulder or in a cage.”
Timeline: Eighth day after being cursed
“You dislocated his shoulder!”
The shouts might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the good they did. Dean glared out the bars of the cage he and Sam were trapped in, wanting nothing more than to sink his silver dagger into something.
Anything.
But no. They stayed stuck, with no way out and no way to find help. The woman whose rough handling had injured Sam casually thumbed through a magazine, waiting with her captives and ignoring them as though they didn’t exist.
Dean supposed he should be grateful they still even had their knives. After escaping that hexbag and finding their way to other humans, the brothers had tried to find help to reunite them with their father. Instead, they’d found capture. It had happened so fast that he never got a chance to draw his blade before he was tossed in a cage next to Sam.
Sam, who was out cold, one arm hanging unnaturally.
“Okay, Sammy,” Dean said, lowering his voice and trying to hide his desperation. “I’m gonna take care of this for you. Nice and easy, just like dad always says, right?”
Sam didn’t respond, his breathing ragged. Dean prayed the woman hadn’t hurt his brother when grabbing him from the ground. She was so big. There was no telling what kind of damage she could do to them.
Dean took hold of Sam’s arm and said a quick prayer under his breath. “One, two–“
Before saying “Three,” he quickly pulled, the arm shifting back into the socket. Sam shrieked, the ten year old’s body writhing in place as the arm took its rightful place. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, trying to comfort the younger child while glaring at the woman outside, tears clinging to his eyelashes.
In that moment, he made a promise to Sam.
One way or the other, they’d find a way out.
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Brothers Apart 