I imagine that Dean’s probably upset about not being able to hunt monsters, so a hunt that Sam can’t solve cause he’s too tol might be a good starter.

Dean will be so stuffy about the fact that Sam’s a full-fledged hunter but he’s never even gotten the chance!

The amount of sass Sam will get if there’s a hunt where Dean happens to be the more useful size than Sam. So much. Sam’s going to get called all the nicknames. Every nickname. Damn Sasquatch. Why’d he have to go and get so tall?!?! At least Dean’s the only one that can navigate so easily in the vents between them. Sam would practically have to worm his ways into the vents, and that’s if they’re even big enough to fit him at all.

June 1st excerpt:

The coffee was almost done when he got back and he smiled in triumph. It wouldn’t get cold on him.

Dean went over to the nightstand to get Jacob up for the day. “Wakey, wakey! Eggs and bakey!” With a grin, he opened up the drawer and peered in to search for where the kid was sleeping. His eyes softened a little when he saw the guy curled up in the flannel shirt. It was almost bunched right over his head for sleep.

He reached in, nudging the shirt off of the tiny form and scooping him up into a loose fist again. “C’mon, half-pint. Time for some coffee.”

November 13th excerpt:

The banter continued for a moment as Sam woke up until a sharp retort from Dean cut it off. “No, the phone is not going on the shelf with you. I’m not sticking my head under the nightstand for an entire phone call. Now c’mon.”

October 4th excerpt:

“No harm done, man,” Jacob assured him with an encouraging smile. “Dean’s beauty sleep only goes so far anyway.” His grin widened when the little guy looked up at him with wide eyes, looking almost surprised that Jacob would tease a human so boldly. He supposed, in retrospect, it was pretty brave of him, considering the size difference. But Dean could be trusted, and Jacob wanted to make sure this stranger knew it.

Dean made a face at Jacob’s back by instinct before he could stop himself.

Calling John Bonham (2 of 5)

A short story of Brothers Apart

Bowman returned ten minutes later, flying far less gracefully than when he’d left. Jacob raised his eyebrows at the sight; Bowman was indeed carrying something in his arms, something almost as long as his tiny body was tall. Jacob realized with a smile that it was a business card. “No shit,” he said as Bowman closed the distance between them.

“Ha! Now you gotta believe me, Dean said the numbers on it can be used to call him,” Bowman announced smugly, right before letting the card fall. Jacob had to fumble to catch it before it fluttered to the ground. He lifted it up, privately eager to see some confirmation of what Bowman told him.

“Bowman …” Jacob said, reading the card.

What now?! I got you proof and everything!” Bowman complained, taking a perch on top of Jacob’s head while they both stared at the name and phone number on the card.

“The name on it is ‘John Bonham,’ Bowman.”

“What?! But his name is Dean! Dean … Winchester!” Bowman protested, punctuating it with a small whap from one of his wings on Jacob’s head.

Jacob thought for a moment. It wasn’t likely that Bowman would have made up a name like ‘Winchester’ on his own. “Hey, I’ll still give the number a try, how about that?” Jacob dug his phone from his pocket, his eyes pointed upward even though he couldn’t see the sprite perched on him. “What do you say?”

The motel room was a peaceful sight in the morning after the Winchesters latest successful hunt. Slits of sunlight made it through the curtains Dean had drawn across the massive windows that bordered the front of their room, covered up so it would be safe for Sam to be out and about in the room if he wanted to be, and they wouldn’t have to worry about him being spotted by any curious onlookers, innocent or dangerous.

They’d had enough problems with dangerous humans in the past. No one wanted a repeat of Sam’s kidnapping.

Dean was lying flat on his back, slow breaths making his chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm. After so long spent with Sam, and having his pocket used as a bed when Sam needed a place to stay, it was habit to lie like that. The small hunter never asked, but Dean made sure he didn’t have to. Sam shouldn’t have to ask for somewhere safe to sleep.

Sam himself slept on his own bed, under the nightstand that stood between the two queen beds that made up their room. Dean had set it up when they got in, and until late the night before it was all but forgotten. A successful vengeful spirit hunt combined with a night of celebratory drinking resulted in neither brother hitting the sack until at least 2 am.

So the phone going off around 11 am found a room full of sleeping Winchesters.

Dean groaned, rubbing a hand down his face and blinking rapidly to clear up his vision. Normally he wouldn’t have such a hard time waking, as used to being constantly on guard as he was, but their night of celebrating had gone on longer than he expected, both brothers feeling the release of stress after such a simple in- and out- case finished.

He glanced to the side, sleepily groping on the nightstand table to grab his phone. It took a time or two, and he squinted as the number scrolled across the screen. He didn’t recognize it.

This might normally be the point where Dean would answer the phone and demand to know who was calling and how did they get his number, but his urge to growl at the caller was thoroughly thwarted by one simple fact.

He didn’t know how to unlock the new phone.

The damn thing was a smartphone, one of the first around. Sam was hyped up with excitement over having a phone that could connect to the internet without ever having to go on the computer. They could get directions, just like a GPS, and never have to open a map to find their way to the next town over. Sam would have a much easier time navigating maps on a phone a little bigger than he was compared to the mass of paper maps that could cover the entire back seat of the Impala.

Dean was still learning how to use the phone, and the friggin’ password wasn’t words or numbers like normal, but rather a design on the touchscreen that he had to swipe his fingers across and he didn’t have time for this shit.

As the phone reached the third ring, Dean swung his legs out of bed and knelt on the floor. Sam had programmed the damn thing, he could figure out how to answer it.

June 30th excerpt:

Jacob noticed something gleaming and throwing back sunlight sticking out of Dean’s little duffel bag as the tiny guy stuffed his sawed-off inside. It brought a knowing grin to his face, and he curled a thumb inward to nudge at the quarter. “Where’d you find that?” he asked.

Dean jerked away from the thumb, caught off guard once more by how fast Jacob could move. “Watch it!” he bitched, trying to bat at a digit the size of his body and far more powerful. His hand hit the side of Jacob’s thumbnail, grazing off without a hope of leaving a mark.