The newest prompt had a choice between Walt, Mallory or Krissy. Walt is the only likely one in that group to go out to the rooms to get supplies. Krissy always goes with someone else, most often Sam, and Mallory doesn’t leave their home or the walls often. She mostly keeps at home since she’s so small. Walt and Sam can defend themselves much better than her.

Lucky Walt

Walt vs. Dean

Having Sam’s trust is the most important thing in the world to Dean, especially with the new change. He’ll probably be going along with shenanigans a lot from here on out, because there’s no way he’d just leave Sam high and dry with John after a fight like that. Gotta stick together!

Walt Versus Dean

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 2005 (The same week Dean and Sam reunited in canon BA)


(Part 1 of 5 )

Take it in steps.

First, examine the room. Watch the shadows. Listen for breathing.

Wait.

Patience is key to survival. You must be willing to wait and analyze and decide if the risk is worth the gain.

Food does you no good if you get caught.

Stay alert.

No matter how certain you are that they’re gone, nothing is stopping them from coming back. Never drop your guard. It might be the last thing you ever do.

The maids don’t pay attention here. Your luck might hold up if they’re the ones that come in the room.

Might.

But there’s no way to ever know.

Those words were always on Walt’s mind. Some of the last words he’d ever said to Bree, and the words he now repeated to Sam ad nauseum. He was desperate not to lose another child to the humans.

For that reason alone, Walt was glad he’d caught Sam trying to sneak out that morning.

It was a good plan to check the empty room before anyone else checked in, but an odd feeling, the sense of foreboding, that trouble was waiting right around the corner for all of them, had made Walt tell Sam to stay with Mallory. He could help with her de-threading that she was working on.

Walt had gone instead.

And now, despite all his planning and watching and listening and waiting, he was in trouble.

Sam might already have been caught if he was the one in the room.

A massive boot hit the ground less than a foot from his hiding place, shaking the ground around him. He flinched back, knowing that all the human had to do was glance to the side. The chair leg he had darted behind in desperation to get out of sight offered no real cover.

He could feel the reassuring weight of his razor tucked against his chest, weighing down his jacket. It might not be as sturdy or as sharp as Sam’s beloved knife (a weapon that had been crafted with a skill Walt found himself admiring), but it would get the job done if he needed to defend himself.

As the human continued past his hiding place, walking into the bathroom, Walt peered around the leg of the chair. His breathing hitched in anticipation. The man was out of sight.

It was now or never.

Gone was any thought of watching or waiting. He was out in the open, far from cover. The distance he needed to run to get under that cover would barely be two steps for the human if he was seen.

He’d never win that race.

His legs tensed, then he dashed towards the looming dresser. The welcome darkness underneath beckoned him. No number of dustbunnies would stop him from diving into that darkness.

The floor started to tremble.

No, no, no! Walt hadn’t even made it halfway in his heartstopping run of desperation. He forced his legs to pump faster, desperately gasping in air. The soles of his boots dug into the worn carpet as he went.

“What the hell?” the voice boomed overhead.

He’d been spotted.

Dean Rescues Sam

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 1993 (Dean is 14; Sam is 10)


(Part 4 of 4)

It was only a ten minute walk to school, and passed by quietly for the first five minutes. Dean was deep in thought, wishing there was something he could do to help Sam. But… he’s too small. It’s too dangerous. What if someone grabs him? He’ll be better if he stays in the room while I find a way to break the curse. John’s words reverberated in his mind. Look out for Sammy, Dean. He’s too small to look out for himself. It was like Sam had become something that just needed looking after, instead of a son. A burden to carry.

Dean could never think of his brother like that.

At the five minute mark, he felt a shifting in his pocket. He caught himself before he jumped, internally groaning as he realized the only thing that could have hitched a ride in there like that.

Dean stuck a hand in his pocket, and sure enough, a tiny body clothed in jeans and flannel tried to squirm away from grasping fingers. He gave a laugh as he briefly pulled Sam out, shaking his head. “Sam, what were you thinking? You heard dad about it not being safe out here for you!”

Sam uncurled from the ball Dean had scooped him into. There was no fear in his face when he looked up at Dean anymore, a fact that Dean was proud of. He never wanted to scare his little brother.  It felt like he was winning Sam’s trust back, even with the huge difference in size.

“Yeah, right,“ Sam grumbled. He scuffed a shoe against Dean’s palm. “Not safe. Instead I get to sit there and listen to dad lecture me all day. He has no idea what it’s really like and he’s coming up with ‘rules’ I have to follow!”

The unexpected vehemence from Sam caught him off guard. Usually his little brother was the one that always had a smile on his face. The curse must be wearing on him… Dean winced at the memory of John glaring down at Sam. Their dad hadn’t caught sight of the tiny, curled fist that Sam kept behind his back, trying to hide the way it shook from fear.

Dean couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes his brother pulled out, not even when they were almost too small to be seen. He gave a laugh. “Yeah, I get it. He’s going to kill me when we get back.” He’d just have to tell John that it was his idea. The last thing they needed was Sam getting yelled at again.

He lifted up his hand to his shoulder. “How’s the hoodie sound for hiding? That way you can tell me if anything happens.”

Sam lit right up, reminding Dean why he did stupid shit like this. Even though he expected to see the Impala come flying around the corner at any second, he let his brother climb onto his shoulder. A tiny weight dropped into his hood, and Dean started walking again.

“You’re helping me with the quizzes, though, pint-size.”


( Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 )


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Dean Rescues Sam

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 1993 (Dean is 14; Sam is 10)


(Part 3 of 4)

Dean tried to ignore the argument as he sullenly got ready for school, shoving an extra notebook into his backpack. It wasn’t like he was going to be in the school long enough to actually learn anything. What the hell was the point?

John glared down at his younger son, who was doing his best to stand his ground on the table. At only two and a half inches tall, a glare like that wasn’t easy to look into without flinching.

“Dad, it’s just school,” Sam protested. “How can I keep up if I stay in the motel all day?”

“It’s not safe,” John said grimly. “What if someone sees you? It’s not a risk you’re taking. You’ll be safer back here with me. When Dean gets back he can fill you in on what he learned.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing as well as Dean did that his older brother rarely paid attention long enough in class to soak up the lessons. John’s eyes narrowed. “Sam…”

“Fine,” Sam snapped. He kicked the pen that was left near him on the table. “I’ll stay,” he finished in a mumble.

John nodded sharply. He spotted Dean, still standing in the shadow of the bathroom. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he snapped. The recent reveal of his younger son’s curse had left his patience thin. Dean and Sam were both treading on thin ice constantly.

Dean didn’t say a word, just swung his backpack onto his shoulders. He tried to give Sam a reassuring glance, I’ll be back soon, but Sam refused to meet his gaze. Great, Dean thought. Bad enough he had to leave the two of them alone. Worse that neither of them was happy with him.

John grabbed a set of clothing, stomping into the bathroom. “Make sure the door is locked behind you!” he shouted at Dean, paying no mind to the way Sam flinched at the loud noise.

Dean shuffled his way out of the room, trying to draw out the time until he left.

He was so withdrawn into himself that he never noticed the weight that slipped into his pocket when he passed by the table.


( Part 1 || Part 2 )

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 )


Ask’s Open! || Prompt’s Open! || Submissions Open!

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 1 of 2 )

Dean paced through the house, searching for any sign of a spirit. The EMF reader was silent in his hand as he went, taunting him with its silence.

Dean grumbled, hitting it on the side in annoyance. Was it acting up? Surely there was a spirit at work…

His thoughts trailed off when at the edge of hearing he heard a cat yowl. Dread started to creep up on him.

Sam was in that direction.

Dean sprinted down the hall, almost skidding past the door that the noises were coming from. To his great relief, the cat wasn’t sitting there with a bloody set of clothes in its claws, but it was trying to swipe at something hidden behind the cabinet.

Dean stalked over, grabbing the cat by the nape of its neck and hauling it off the ground. He tossed it out of the room, sealing the door shut. Upset meows made it through the wooden door.

Putting that out of his mind, Dean walked carefully over to the cabinet to see what the cat had trapped. Getting down on his knees, he dug out his flashlight and shone it into the crack.

A small, huddled form flinched away from him and the light, a tiny silver knife at the ready. “Sammy,” Dean breathed. “Thank god you’re okay.”

There was no answer to his voice, no sign that Sam even heard him. Dean’s brow furrowed in concern. “Sam,” he tried again. “Can you walk? I can’t reach you back there.”

With no response still, Dean was getting worried. “Alright,” he muttered to himself. “I’m gonna assume that means you can’t come out here on your own. Hang on, kid.”

Getting up, Dean grabbed the dishware on top of the cabinet, dropping it all on the table. He gripped the side of the cabinet, shifting it away from the wall to put Sam in reach.

The moment Sam was in sight, Dean stooped to pick him up. Before the older hunter could react, a cold metal blade slashed at his hand, Sam lashing out in a panic.

“Crap, Sam. It’s me!” Dean hissed. He stuck his thumb in his mouth for a second for the bleeding, snatching at Sam with his other hand. The fingers curled around the small hunter, trapping the knife-wielding arm between Dean’s index finger and middle finger.

Dean gently pried the knife from Sam’s grip. “Sammy, it’s me. It’s just Dean. You’re safe, I promise. That cat’s nowhere near us right now. I took care of it.”

After a few minutes of cajoling, Sam finally peered up at Dean. His small eyes were wide, panicked. The look of a hunted animal. “D-Dean?” he stuttered out.

“That’s right. Just me.” Dean took a seat at the dining room table, unfurling his fingers.

The reason for Sam’s panic was revealed.

Blood coated Dean’s hand where it had wrapped around Sam’s back.

Fuck.”

Dean Rescues Sam

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 1993 (Dean is 14; Sam is 10)


(Part 1 of 4)

Dean growled, trying to get free of the wall. “You bitch,” he spat angrily. “What did you do to him?!”

The witch smirked, her long, lustrous blonde hair wafting in the air as the spell she’d hit Sam with started to die down. “You’ll soon find out,” she said with the deadly hiss of a promise. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Her chanting started again. Struggling, Dean’s eyes went wide as her hand, clawed around the air, lifted up in preparation to hit him.

Before she could get the blast off, someone slammed against the door. It shuddered. John Winchester’s voice could be heard outside the door. “I’m coming boys!”

“Damn,” the witch snarled. “Better make this quick.” She held up the hand again, preparing the spell.

The door shattered. John barreled in, tackling the witch without taking a breath. He slammed into her, knocking her away from Dean with a shriek.

Dean hit the ground, falling straight down from where he’d been pinned up over three feet in the air. He moaned, certain he’d broken something.

The groan tapered off when his eyes landed on something right next to the battling hunter and the witch. Something small, in familiar colors. Dean almost gasped.

Sammy!

He crawled over to the prostrate from. His brother was less than four inches tall, curled up in a tiny ball and shuddering in pain. Sam’s shudders increased as Dean lifted him off of the ground. Or maybe it was his hands that were shaking.

Dean was yanked off his feet without warning, John shoving him out of the door. His fingers curled protectively around his brother. “D-dad…” he stuttered. He had no idea what to do.

“Get in the car, Dean!”

A gunshot sounded out. A shrieking laugh was heard. The witch vanished before the bullet hit her. John held the gun in front of him as he backed away.

Dean got into the front seat of the Impala, holding his tiny brother against his chest. Sam had gone motionless, slumped across his fingers. “It’s okay, Sammy. I gotcha,” he whispered even as John dove into the driver’s seat and started it up. The car screeched out of the parking lot.

“Everything will be okay, Sam. I promise.”