Tag: dean winchester

On By nightmares06In commissioned art, Uncategorized2 Comments

You two are one letter off from the title, so you win a sneak peek for all! This story is titled Wayward Sons, and sometimes wayward sons have to return home to the family they left behind.

XD This is one of those titles that makes everyone facepalm and go “Of course!” if they’ve watched the show. 

“Of course I know where we are!” Dean interrupted. “It hasn’t been that long since we were around…”

Up ahead, what looked like twelve feet away but must only be seven inches, there was an end to the path. Part of the wall shifted, then moved aside under the control of someone inside. A block was substituted for a door.

Dean, who was paying more attention to Sam behind him than the path in front in order to keep bickering, pulled to a halt when he heard someone clear their throat. Sam almost ran right into his brother, caught off guard by the suddenness of the gesture.

Blue eyes like steel stared out at them.

“Boys,” Walt Watch greeted, his arms crossed and his face stern.

While everyone was staring at each other in the shock that came from a long time spent apart, a small ball of energy pushed right past Walt. Mallory, her long blonde hair a mess and bouncing in loose curls behind her back, flew out from the small home. “Dean?! Sam!”

Walt didn’t have a chance to catch her before she barreled right into Dean with a sob, pulling the much taller man into a hug. There was no resisting her, and she did the same with Sam, small tears peeking out the corner of her eyes. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed as she pulled out of Sam’s arms to get a good look at both of them. “We thought you were dead or worse.”

“Never bett–”

Dean’s declaration was cut off with a loud slap that sounded like it could be heard from one end of the motel to the other. Shocked, Dean stumbled back, tenderly holding his cheek.

Mallory’s tears were overflowing. “How could you leave us like that?” she demanded tearfully.

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Artwork by aibyou

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June 27th excerpt:

A few scattered projects surrounded Dean’s nest, though Moira couldn’t tell what any of them were or would become. He was always so crafty, in a way that not many others could match even after years of practice. It was like Dean had learned secrets they didn’t have access to, and not for the first time Moira wondered at the secrets her brothers kept after so many years of knowing them.

She knelt by Dean’s side, pushing his shoulder. “Dean,” she whispered, keeping her voice as low as possible to avoid waking Sam.

He groaned, trying to roll away from her touch. Since he was tucked into a corner, there was nowhere else for him to go, and his eyes squinted open in annoyance. “What?” he griped, rubbing his eyes.

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June 26th excerpt:

The younger Winchester was sitting in a corner, his lap once more covered in the scattered papers that made up his journal. He wasn’t writing in them at the moment, but instead carefully reading through. As Dean watched, Sam brushed his hand reverentially down one to smooth the wrinkles on it, then set it to the side.

After a moment’s consideration, Dean left the box of raisins against the wall, giving it an ‘accidental’ kick for the way it tripped him up multiple times in the cupboard. At this rate, neither of the humans in the flat would think he could slip around undetected.

Damn box. At least raisins lasted forever.

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June 25th excerpt:

When he turned to leave, he nearly tripped over the box of raisins again, catching his balance against the friggin’ crackers with his free hand with a strangled curse. Giving the raisins a look that accused them of sabotaging any hope he had of being ninja for the day, Dean scooped up the box before he headed for the walls and home.

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June 24th excerpt:

“You okay?” John called softly, opening the door a crack to peer in at the small person within.

Caught off guard by the unexpected flood of light, Dean stumbled to his feet, one arm half-raised in defense with his other hand diving for his knife. Years of instincts developed from his current size had combined with the wariness he’d learned from his father, putting him constantly on edge and ready to act at a moment’s notice.

Realizing who was there, Dean’s eyes narrowed and he felt the tension leave his back. It was just John, and he meant well, despite how startling he could be.

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June 23rd excerpt:

In the cupboard, Dean slowly went through the new boxes John had brought home, wishing one or two of them was open or even just on the side. He finally decided to give climbing the new box of crackers a try; he just had to get his arm and knife in to tear a hole in the wrapper and get some food. Later on he could make a run for fresher food after the humans had their dinner.

Of course, Dean’s run of bad luck continued when he knocked over a small box of raisins trying to climb the bigger box.

“Sonovabitch!”

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Ding ding ding, you got it!

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#dow is Dean of Wellwood, and now all we’ve got is #don and #bofa before all (current) stories for that particular AU have names!

I’ll add it to the FAQ in a bit. For now, you’ve earned a sneak peek!

As though a sudden breeze picked up, the knights took to the air in a flurry of leafy wings. They were flashes of leafy green that fell into formation with Scar at their head, leading a spiral of knights upwards.

Mere seconds later, the spiral broke apart. What looked like a loss of formation quickly shifted into knights scattering into groups of four or five and darting up towards different trees surrounding the village. Some were lost among the leaves and still others were easily marked circling around with their eyes focused on their adversary: 

Dean.

The first knight darted towards Dean from the side, and soon after another from a different group swept into the village. Like the ticking of a clock, knights dashed into closer quarters with the human, following the tactics Scar had signaled to them. Determination filled every one of them as they closed in to swarm around the giant.

Dean brought his arms close to guard against any attacks. The sprites moved different from any opponent he’d ever faced, so before lashing out with his own strike, Dean’s intent green eyes watched how they flowed through the air. The rest of the surroundings dropped away from the fighters and ceased to exist.

After Dean had marked the position of the different groups in his mind to keep track during the flurry, he focused on one that was closer to his right side. The second they were within reach, his arm swept forward with the intent to snatch them out of the air.

The knight, one of the younger members, let out a quiet noise of alarm. He attempted to veer off course, but the adrenaline in his body and the sudden jelly-like feeling in his wings prevented him. His sword dropped to the ground below as fingers the size of his body coiled around and trapped him in a fist. His wings were engulfed along with him, and just like that his fight was over; there was no escape from Dean’s grasp.

“Do not falter,” Scar barked in warning as the other knights watched one of their number disappear into one of Dean’s pockets. If their hearts hadn’t already been pounding, they would have begun.

Dean wasn’t only big. He was fast.

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June 22nd excerpt:

Sherlock’s brow furrowed and he exchanged a meaningful look with John, who sank into a chair again in preparation for a long talk. The detective moved his microscope from in front of him to his work table so he could lean forward and keep eye contact with Dean unobstructed.

“John.”

“Yeah?” John glanced over his shoulder.

“If I start talking, shut me up.”

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June 20th excerpt:

This movement caught Dean off guard, and left the smaller man clinging to the curls in surprise. “What did I say about movin?’ “ he scolded, frozen in place until he was absolutely certain Sherlock wasn’t going to knock him off. “This is hard enough already! I’d like to see you climb someone’s hair.”

Taking a deep breath to steel himself and forcing any thought of how high up he was suspended in the air on a moving person, Dean started to climb again.

Only now, he put more effort into where his boots dug into Sherlock’s scalp. 

For traction.