March 18th excerpt:

The giant covers to the side rustled as he stretched, eyes blearily opening, then shutting tight at the brilliance that filled the room. “Dean?” Sam mumbled, burying his head into a pillow. “Whatcha…” He yawned halfway through. “Doin?’ ”

Even waking Sam up couldn’t bring Dean down from cloud nine with his recent triumph. “I,” he started off, shamelessly bragging, “have figured out how we can spar without worrying about my height.”

Apias: A Port in A Storm? This is my first time guessing. I am loving the stories, even if I have the wrong title.

First time and you got it! The name is officially Any Port in a Storm, and these brothers certainly need a port to huddle in, considering the circumstances John finds them in!


When the snow started to come down, he knew they were really in trouble.

Dean glanced to the side, his gaze softening. Sam was slumped against his side, exhausted and weary. They had run for most of the day, leaving the younger kid drained and unable to keep up with his older brother for long. Dean had tried giving Sam a piggyback for a bit, but he tired as well within the hour.

We’ll just stop for a bit… get your energy back up and then we’ll find someplace safe and warm, okay?

There wasn’t much choice for them to stop. Sam couldn’t keep up, Dean couldn’t carry him, and he’d never leave his little brother behind. He’d found a bit of cover against a wall, staring at the deserted street beyond.

Occasionally, they’d pass by, and Dean could only hope that no one noticed the pair of tiny children seeking refuge.

Their escape, it seemed, came with a cost, and he didn’t know if they could last the night.

March 9th excerpt:

When a finger bigger than either brothers head brushed over Dean, melting some of the snow instantly on contact and knocking a few other flakes free from his flattened spike of hair, he jerked back on instinct, and dragged Sam along with him as he cringed from the hand that could scoop them both into a fist in seconds. Sam was limp, offering no resistance to Dean’s motion.

John sucked in a startled breath, jerking his hand back for a second. Before he could think about it, his hand shot back out and curled behind the moving figure’s back. His hand didn’t close, simply formed a barrier of warmth for the kid. They looked so small against his palm, and he took half a second to process the fact that they didn’t just look like tiny kids, they were real.

March 7th excerpt:

Dean glanced to the side, his gaze softening. Sam was slumped against his side, exhausted and weary. They had run for most of the day, leaving the younger kid drained and unable to keep up with his older brother for long. Dean had tried giving Sam a piggyback for a bit, but he tired as well within the hour.

We’ll just stop for a bit… get your energy back up and then we’ll find someplace safe and warm, okay?

March 4th excerpt:

At 2 pm, the phone rang and Sherlock Holmes was the only one around to answer it.

Dr. John Watson had already left for his shift at a newly acquired job (evidently determined to make this one stick so they could “pay the damn rent”). Sam and Dean Winchester, the other flatmates standing at four inches tall at the most were hardly under obligation to answer the landline. That left the detective, who was too impatient to let it continue to ring any longer.

“Sherlock Holmes,” he answered curtly.

February 25th excerpt:

As Dean settled in, Stan was tempted to simply find himself a seat and stay where he was put like he always did. But another  part of him heard a call in the open space of the car, particularly in the dim chasm into which Dean’s legs vanished over the edge of the seat. Stan’s knowledge of cars was extremely limited, but he got the impression from watching Dean drive a few times that something down there helped him operate the immense machine. And anyway, Dean had encouraged Stan to ‘check the place out’…

Curiosity won out in the end, and so with tentative steps, Stan wandered toward the end of the bench, craning his neck to peer into the space. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find down there, but the dark unknown taunted something in the back of Stan’s mind, something he usually ignored.

Winter: Converging Destiny

nightmares06:

(( 

This was written for the anthology Seasons: a Supernatural Fan Fiction Anthology and can be found in the Winter section of the book. Be sure to check out @spnshortstories and the rest of the anthology here! Cheers, and enjoy the story! ))


It is late, and heavy droplets of rain splatter across the windshield of the darkened car, creating a cascade of water to obscure the outside world from view.

Dean Winchester, sitting in that dark and silent 1967 Chevy Impala, doesn’t need to see much. Just one thing, one silhouette, and then he can leave.

Over two years have passed since that fateful night when his younger brother had stormed out that door, renouncing their father and forsaking Dean. Leaving them alone to figure things out without him, taking an integral part of their lives with him as he left, his harsh words fading away with the slamming of the door.

It feels like just yesterday.

The loneliness was not so bad at first. Dean threw himself fully into learning to hunt with John, concentrating on every drop of information with a singular determination no one else could match. All that work, all that determination resulted in him going off on his own to hunt not long after Sam had left them.

That might be what made it so hard. He wasn’t ready to hunt on his own, not really. It had nothing to do with being prepared. It had everything to do with the long nights and silent car rides that he drowns out with classic rock from his father’s old cassette collection, inherited along with the car.

Through the deepness of the night, Dean can see two figures running along the sidewalk, one with a large jacket held overhead to block the rain from them both. The smaller figure had golden curls, catching the few flickering streetlights and reflecting the light back in flashes. The second…

That figure, Dean didn’t need to see clearly to know who it was. He’d know those broad shoulders and long legs anywhere.

He lets out a sigh at the sight of his younger brother running towards the apartment he has for while he’s in Palo Alto. Clearly, Sam is doing well for himself, and even as Dean watches, opens the door for the girl and lets her rush inside before following himself.

Sammy is safe.

Dean might be alone, and he might not know what the future holds, but his younger brother has a life. One that might take him further and further from his family, but where he also has the chance to thrive.

Two years was a long time, and it would only grow longer, so long as he knew that Sam was making a life for himself, it would become easier to bear. Still hard, but the threat of looming danger didn’t hang over Sam the way it did for Dean.

To the side, a guitar riff cuts through the steady pounding of the rain outside. Dean glances down, spotting the number that appeared on his phone, and answered promptly.


A little over five minutes later, the headlights of the Impala flare to life, illuminating the gloomy parking lot. To the side of Sam’s apartment, the classic car goes unnoticed by the younger Winchester as the engine roared to life, blending into the background of thunder and lightning and constant pounding rain, one of the scant twenty days a year that the California city would see a drop of precipitation. Chosen carefully by Dean to help hide his brief trip to see if his brother was okay.

Even deeper in the night shadows, parked by a dumpster to avoid the young hunter’s notice, a massive black truck lay in wait. The man sitting inside lowers his phone down, watching his son heed his order seconds after receiving it.

If he told Dean to go into that apartment and pull Sam out, take him on the road, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

John knows this, but something holds him back from sending that fateful message. Despite everything, in spite of the way he’d told Sam to never come back, he still wants to see him again. Talk it out, explain why things had to be the way they were.

Yet he never can, and there was no going back for them.

Instead he sends Dean off on a hunt for a vengeful spirit. A simple salt and burn to keep him out of trouble. Sam will remain in Palo Alto, unaware that his family was so close that night, and he will carry on this path he’s chosen away from them

Once more, John wishes that Dean had taken the initiative to confront Sam on his own. There was always a chance they could be reunited through him.

He waits for another ten minutes to be sure that Dean was gone and Sam wasn’t looking, then turned the key in the ignition. The truck roars to life with a reverberation that could put the Impala to shame, headlights as bright as spotlights turning on and lighting up the parking lot.

John leaves his youngest son behind in the secure knowledge that nothing would be able to reach him there so long as they kept a close watch between hunts.

FIN