Jacob reached out to close the phone with a click of plastic against plastic. He pondered the conversation, finding even more questions in it that he could ask. Who’s Walt came to mind, but he knew better. Sam had hardly talked about any of the other people in his life; Jacob wasn’t going to ask him about someone unless Sam started that conversation.
It was weird. Sam was the same size as Bowman, but the similarities stopped there. With Bowman, it was hard to get a word in sometimes.
With Sam, awkward silences could pop up out of nowhere. He was an enigmatic little guy.
Once everyone had their drink in hand, Dean offered up a toast. “Here’s to getting our resident Sasquatch back to properly towering over everyone around.”
“A-goddamn-men to that,” Jacob agreed, lifting his silvery handmade cup in cheers. He was so, so ready to get back to normal after his misadventure. Bowman shifted his own bottle cap (which was like a washbasin to Jacob) in an awkward imitation of the others, glancing at them to make sure he got it right.
Jacob had to chuckle. Bowman at least knew what a toast was because he’d had it explained to him before. Multiple times. He was shaky on the purpose of some human traditions, and Jacob was often at a loss for what to tell him. After all, a lot of human traditions came out of freaking nowhere.
Of course, in such cases, Bowman was never short of commentary on how silly that was.
Jacob took a drink, slowly savoring the mix of flavors in the beer. It was a local brew, and one of his favorites. Now that they were all past the mix up at the store, he had a chance to appreciate the fact that Dean had taken him up on his recommendation. Bowman took a drink of the stuff too, and Jacob grinned to see the sprite’s usual appreciative reaction to it. Seeing it in such a scale was interesting, too.
Bowman smirked, taking a second drink of his beer before speaking his mind. “Yeah, we gotta get Jacob back to normal before being the tallest goes straight to Dean’s head.”
Motion caught Sam’s attention out of the corner of his eye, and he sent a flat look towards his older brother. “What the hell is it this time,” he sighed, resigned to Dean’s constant fidgets.
In all fairness, the giant had never learned restraint like Sam had. Growing up in the wilderness, alone and abandoned mistakenly by his family, Dean had made do on his own. He’d survived against all odds, managing to not become the monster he was slated to become by the witch who cursed him.
Changed into a giant, separated from his family, simply assumed that he would lose touch with humanity and go feral.
Instead, years later Sam had stumbled across him while hunting for a giant, who had been hunting for the actual monster in the area, following his own code of morals to help people, even those that condemned him.
Dean froze under Sam’s scrutiny, his pinky in the corner of his mouth worrying something there. He slowly removed it, his ears faintly flushed.
“Just… something in my teeth,” he muttered, turning away from Sam.
“Hey!” Sam didn’t like the look on Dean’s face. More self-conscious than normal. He slid off the hood of the Impala, leaving his laptop open next to his bag and forgetting about both promptly.
Anyone that came out here to steal a laptop out from under a giant’s nose had another thing coming.
“What’s the matter?” Sam put his hands on his hips, briefly feeling like he was occasionally scolding a kid when Dean started acting oddly.
Dean glanced at him, fiddling absently with his hands in his lap. “That’s it,” he protested stubbornly. “Got something stuck in my teeth, can’t get it out.” He flared out his fingers and wiggled them at Sam. “See?”
None of the fingernails were more than nubs, and Sam had a sudden realization that Dean, without access to a lot of quality of life items, likely chewed them short if they got too long. As such, he was left without a nail to help him free– whatever it was.
It is a commissioned work series for Nightmares06 that I will color in properly when I have the time! 🙂
I am still taking requests for sketches for Supernatural G/t or for the boy’s portraits so long as I get a reference photo or cute idea that doesn’t require a day to draw lol ;P Like a free commission! or art trade if you want !
Things on the side of the walk weren’t an unusual sight at all, especially in John’s part of town. There was always a little rubbish someone missed, toys or other belongings some kid might have dropped earlier in the day that got swept aside.
So when John noticed a small figure huddled against the wall, his gaze downturned thanks to the precipitation, he passed right by it with hardly a question.
A few steps away was a crossing, which had just turned in the direction that John wasn’t heading, so he shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh and waited patiently for the light.
Boredom struck quickly, and curiosity brought his attention sliding back the way he’d come, to that strange figure in the snow. He didn’t understand why until he thought about it; whatever it was, was small enough to be a toy. But a fallen toy wouldn’t manipulate itself in such a position.
Curiosity won out, and with a glance back at the traffic lights, John meandered his way back to check out what was over there.
Frowning thoughtfully, John crouched down for a better look. He wasn’t around children often, but he’d never seen toys quite like these.
It seemed to be two figures, clinging to each other in the snow. Too lifelike to be simple playthings, and he couldn’t see any telltale joint mechanisms to allow for movement. Perhaps it was some kind of subtle art piece, a political statement maybe.
They looked an awful lot like kids.
John couldn’t quite tell. After a moment of thought, he took one hand out of his pocket and reached out to brush a bit of the thin layer of snow off this supposed street art.
Dean heard the footsteps returning after the most recent giant passed by. They shook the ground under him, how could he miss such rumbles?
Darting one glance towards the shadow he could see moving along the walkway, Dean pulled Sam closer, his arm protectively curled around his little brother’s body to keep him close. Whatever happened, he couldn’t afford to be split apart from Sam. After months in captivity, they’d escaped together, and had each other to rely on in a completely alien world from where they’d grown up. Dean refused to let Sam slip away from him after coming so far.
With the shadow rapidly approaching, it was for the best that Sam was out cold. There was even less of a chance that anyone would realize they were alive if they didn’t move, and the younger kid had less self-control than Dean.
The footsteps slowed and came to a stop about a foot away, and Dean saw the massive shape crouch down, looming over them both as the stranger leaned in to see them better. Shoes bigger than both brothers together crunched against the snow.
Dean stared up at the giant. Keen blue eyes looked them both over, vaguely interested and strangely piercing at the same time. He willed himself to keep still, trying so hard to avoid notice, but deep in his heart knew it was too late. Whoever this stranger was, he’d found them. If they were lucky, he’d pass them up as two broken toys on the street. If not… Dean hated to think of Sam back in that cage again.
His words from before, said to reassure Sam, were coming back to bite him as a hand reached for them.
Since the story name was guessed while the excerpts were still posting, here’s a special sneak peek of Far From Home!
The car came to a halt, and the engine cut out. High heels clicked their way around the car, and once more the door opened. This time, there were two voices instead of just the one.
“What were you thinking? The ritual has to be tonight. We can’t risk it just because you got nervous, Cee.”
The next person to talk had the voice of the secretary that had helped Dean. “I was thinking that this is a hunter, and we can’t risk having him on the loose.” Unlike earlier on in the day when she’d fawned over Dean, her voice was confident and assured. “Or did you forget the last hunter that happened to come across our coven, Dee?”
Dean’s body shifted, and then was lifted up by the two women. The cadence of walking was much different, and Jacob found himself lying on top of Dean like they were watching TV in the motel room, swinging from side to side.
“Besides,” Cee’s voice went on, “three blood sacrifices are needed for the blood moon, right? This is kismet, not bad luck. Unlike the children, no one’s going to miss one little hunter, all on his own.”
Then Dean was dropped to the ground and propped up, and the faint rustling sound of a rope being tied was all that could be heard as the man was secured.
Jacob kept a hand over his mouth while the two women worked. Part of him knew there was no way they’d hear his rapid breathing or pounding heart, and yet every second he worried he’d see a hand diving into the pocket after him with well-manicured nails ready to snatch him up. Thankfully, the hand never came, and he was left in the pocket as the final knot was pulled tight.
He heard a weak whimper from close to Dean, and his heart fluttered. It sounded like another woman, this one much younger than the others. Missing kids, the distracted thought flashed across Jacob’s mind to join the flurry of his other thoughts. Footsteps faded away with talk of more preparations for the sacrifice, but Jacob’s attention turned inward.
Blood moon. Sacrifice. Kismet? They had arrived in the nick of time.
The only problem was Dean was captured, and most of his weapons waited back at the motel.
Barely an hour had passed before Sherlock’s mobile rang, making Sherlock freeze in place and John’s head snap up to lock eyes with him. The detective whipped out the phone and checked the caller ID.
“It’s Mycroft,” he confirmed.
John’s brow arched. “That was fast–”
“Dean! ” Sherlock called, cutting off John’s comment as he took long strides toward the kitchen.
Lestrade was more than a little frustrated, having drilled every single guard who’d had shifts since the day before, and all of them swore up and down that nothing had happened. None had let anyone into the crime scene for any reason since last Lestrade had been there. Storming back up the stairs, Lestrade swore that if Sherlock didn’t have a good reason for this…
Well, he didn’t know what he was gonna do, but he was sure it would come to him.
All feelings of exasperation were out the window as soon as Lestrade stormed in to find Sherlock flat on the floor near an air vent in the wall, giving him an almost feral look. He quirked an eyebrow at the detective until his gaze wandered to the small figure in front of him.
The small, shouting figure.
We totally haven’t not written this exact thing out already…
Dean: “Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they’re only dangerous to your wallet.”
Dean: "This is Dad’s single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he’s passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”
Brothers Apart 