October 15th excerpt:

With a frown, Sam waved vaguely at the front of the room. “Might rain later,” he warned.

Dean had to smirk at that. “I think we’ll survive,” he said, and held out a hand near Stan. “I’ll keep an eye on the sky for us.”

October 14th excerpt:

“Bobby’s around if you need anything,” Dean reminded Sam, reaching forward to briefly brush Sam’s bedhead into a bigger mess, then grinning hugely at the swears he got in return.

Standing, Dean pretended he couldn’t hear any of Sam’s sputtered cusses. “What’s that?” he asked over his shoulder, cupping an ear. “I can’t hear you!”

October 13th excerpt:

Knocking on Sam’s wall, Dean patiently waited for his brother to show his face.

“What?” Sam asked, sleepily shuffling into the light in his socks.

Dean arched an eyebrow at his younger brother. “Gonna work on the car,” he explained. “Think you can hold down the fort for me?”

October 12th excerpt:

In the jar, Logan was behind on working out what was going on. His restless sleep had ended to the loud rumble of the drawer on its track, followed by nauseating motion. It was all he could do to curl up and cover his neck with startled hands as the hard walls of his prison moved about.

October 11th excerpt:

Just an inch or two later, Jacob had to pause as his hands cramped up from clinging so tightly to the string. His knuckles were white from the strain, and he stared at them ruefully. After a second’s break, he tried descending just a little more, hand over hand. When trying to get his grip on the next section of string, he couldn’t hold tightly enough before he slid, no more than a half inch.

It was enough for the friction burn to sting, and Jacob grimaced. “Fuckdammit!”

October 9th excerpt:

Once he was in place, Dean shooed Stan off. “Now got get him so we can get this thing started.”

Stan just barely contained a chuckle to see Dean waving him off from his perch, still working out the boundaries there and not wanting to come off as patronizing. With a cheeky salute, he did as he was told and headed downstairs.

nightmares06:

October 8th excerpt:

Gently scooping Dean off his shoulder, Stan gave a small smirk and asked, “Where to, Mr. Winchester?” He didn’t want to assume where Dean would prefer to be to start out.

@enby-phoenix replied to your post:

Such a polite bean.

Stan absolutely is! He’s the most polite Brit, and he’ll always offer a cuppa!

But I think this time, calling Dean such a formal name might be somewhat of an inside joke between them, considering how they first met.

Bonus excerpt:

“Mr. Holmes,” the man greeted. Sherlock hummed to himself, noting the distinct lack of an Irish dialect.

The man’s brow shot up when he caught sight of the tiny figure contrasting the deep blue folds of Sherlock’s scarf.

“And… Mr. Winchester?” he guessed at length.

Dean straightened in place, letting the scarf fall down from his shoulders so more of him could be seen. “Mister Winchester is my dad,” he corrected, his voice level and even to avoid betraying any nerves. “You can call me Dean.”