November 29th excerpt:
Sam sat down and dug out his own foil to start crafting small spoons for them to eat with. “So, does this make you a pie-hound?” he asked with a grin.
Dean gave Sam a flat glare. “Not funny.”
“K-9 Search and Pie squad?”
“Bitch.”
“Alright, boys, behave,” John chuckled.
Timeline: Right after moving into 221B Baker Street
“Look out!”
Dean shoved Sam out of the way, his younger brother stumbling backwards from the unexpected danger. Moira yelped, grabbing Sam’s arm to haul him back, leaving Dean to face the threat on his own.
A cat.
Dean didn’t budge an inch, his silver knife in hand as he faced down the cat to give Sam and Moira time to escape. This was supposed to be a quick trip to grab some supplies, stock up Sam and Dean’s new home a few flats away from Moira’s family. They’d only had enough extra food for one meal, and having Moira’s help was welcome.
Of course, no one ever consulted them when getting a new pet, and not knowing that a cat now lived in the flat Moira’s family called home meant that they’d stumbled right into it.
“Mrow?”
It wasn’t quite the hiss of anger Dean had expected to hear before the deadly paw descended on him. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He squinted his eyes open just as he realized he’d closed them as he prepared for the inevitable.
The cat still sat in the same spot, its tail swishing from side to side. Now that the element of surprise was gone, Dean could see it was only a kitten, nose twitching as it looked over the three tiny people it had cornered. Its head moved closer and Dean stiffened, expecting at any second to feel the crushing fangs close around his chest.
Instead, a wet nose pressed into Dean’s side. He jolted away in surprise, almost flailing off balance. The kitten blinked at him, then mrowwed again.
Stalemate.
Sam and Moira, standing against the wall, stared at the odd scene. Slowly, it all began to sink into Sam, and he snickered.
Dean sent him a wounded look over his shoulder.
“It wants you to pet it!” Sam called, almost doubling over with laughter.
Dean tore his gaze from Sam and looked back at the kitten just as a headbutt from the animal knocked him from his feet. He went sprawling, rolling a few times until he landed at Sam and Moira’s feet, staring up at them in a daze.
Moira joined Sam in laughing as they hauled Dean to his feet. “Go on!” she said, shoving him towards the kitten. “Pet her!”
Dean reached up a hesitant hand as the kitten cocked her head at him, ear flicking the moment his hand brushed against the fur. He scratched behind the ear like it was the most important task he’d ever performed, considering that if she wanted to, the kitten could turn the three of them into her playthings.
Nothing like that happened, aside from a rumbling purr from deep in the cat’s chest. She stretched out her front legs, each toe extending as she flopped down at Dean’s feet and looked up at him.
“I think you have a new best friend,” Sam said in a laughing attempt at a hush as he slipped past Dean, leading Moira towards the wall entrance they’d left behind.
“You’re not so bad, are ya?” Dean mused as he rubbed behind the ear again, thinking everything was going to work out fine.
Just as Sam and Moira made it to the wall, it happened.
“Ah– CHOO!”
Dean’s sneeze was so violent he was knocked off his feet, landing on his butt an inch away from a curious ear flick. The kitten picked up her head, nosing worriedly at Dean when the scritches didn’t resume. He barely noticed the large wet spot left on his leather jacket this time, too concerned with holding back another sneeze.
“ACHOO!”
Sam had to come back to grab Dean with Moira safely in the walls, hauling his older brother up and giving him a shove at the entrance while distracting the kitten with a scritch. Sam, who didn’t have any allergies to cats, did much better than his older brother, and escaped the moment the kitten’s eyes fluttered shut.
They parted ways with Moira at the fork in the path, her returning to her home with her parents while Sam propelled Dean towards their new home in the hopes that dunking his head in water might help the sneezes.
Otherwise, they might lose their ninja titles.
All through the walls, Dean sneezed.
Passing a kitchen with wonderful aromas wafting through the walls. “Ah-choo!”
Hearing a toilet flush. “Ah– ACHOO!”
Sam let out a sigh as they finally got home, hurrying to their water supplies while Dean morosely picked at a long, ginger-colored hair that clung to him even after leaving the kitten behind.
“Ah– CHOO! ”
The humans living in the flat were usually more observant than most. They were also quite busy and happened to be lost in their own worlds.
Sherlock Holmes was wrapped up in an experiment, subjecting disembodied fingers– specifically the fingernails– to the flame of a blowtorch at gradually lengthened intervals. It was a relatively quiet experiment, but the smell of it had John Watson slamming the sliding kitchen doors shut to keep the odor out of the main room.
John sat at the small table against the wall in the middle of the living room, typing away at his blog. Sherlock’s most recent case had been a convoluted one, and he wanted to be sure to get the details right. Or at least to a point where they made sense to the layman.
A muffled sneeze briefly broke his concentration.
“Gesundheit,” John muttered, under the assumption that the fingernail-fumes were finally starting to get to Sherlock. For his part, the detective hadn’t even heard the small noise from the kitchen, and so he and the doctor remained blissfully ignorant of the smaller residents of 221B Baker Street as the brothers stared at each other in shock, the human’s response to Dean’s sneeze completely unexpected.
Before Dean could sneeze again, Sam dunked his head into the cap of water. Dean resurfaced, gasping and wiping at his eyes before burying his head in the nest of fabric he called a bed. A muffled sneeze could be heard as Dean slumped in place.
“No more cats,” Sam said grimly, wondering at their close call with Sherlock and John.
One word prompts open for all three admins! Just drop us a word and a character!
Send some in for us to work on over the holiday break!
October 12th excerpt:
The only warning they got was a sudden cold shock running up Sam’s back. He stiffened, and before he could warn Dean something was wrong, it was too late.
The human– Sherlock– was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, his eyes glued to them.
The trance shattered and Dean already on the move. “Sam, break! ” he shouted, shoving his little brother towards the entrance they’d come from and running the complete opposite direction himself.
Of course I enjoy them! How else could I keep coming back for more?
That is the part of the story where everything starts. It lays out the groundwork of the relationship between the characters, and can be a ton of fun to see how the different personalities interact and clash.
As I’ve heard, it’s not a crime to love what you do, and writing is my personal addiction that I hope to refine into my full time job one day– or at least a secondary source of income as I begin to write my first book.
September 26th excerpt:
Sam rolled his eyes. “I guess we can count it as a tie,” he said dryly. “I’ll let your awful aim slide just this once. But you might end up with Dean trying to teach you how to aim the next time he gets the chance. Since, y’know, you can’t hit the broadside of a barn and all that.”
The hunter out in the open shifted his position on the bench while Sam was talking. The boot closest to them scrapped along the floor, and this time when Dean’s hand came into view, he was clearly stretching to reach the wayward coin.
“Did one of you get into the whiskey before we got here?” came a curious tone. A finger caught the coin just at the edge, dragging it along the floor so he’d be able to reach it without having to get up.
A short story of Brothers Apart
“At least they’re a better kind of hunter,” Bowman said dismissively. He didn’t notice the almost challenging edge to Dean’s voice, daring someone to disagree with his statement. Bowman wasn’t about to argue the point. Sam had helped save Wellwood just as much as Dean.
“Yeah,” Jacob muttered, while the rest of Bowman’s story caught up to him. A real nightmare had drifted into Wellwood and he hadn’t been around to help the sprites. After what they’d been through before, he couldn’t help but feel a protectiveness of his own for the tiny pacifist village.
“Listen, guys, I guess the rest of the story is true then, too, so I want to thank you two for helping out my friends. Bowman’s got some pretty great things to say about what you did for them.”
“That’s what we do,” Sam said, a proud grin on his face replacing his abashed demeanor. It meant the world to him to be able to join Dean in hunting. “Protecting Bowman’s village is just as important as… well, protecting my family from any dangers.”
“Besides,” Dean said with a chuckle, “how could we let Vel down? He did decide to adopt us as his older brothers. We’ve gotta watch out for the third Winchester. He’s gotta grow up and beat Bowman at flying with those little wings of his.”
Bowman grumbled something and flicked his wings. He couldn’t really protest too much since they were talking about a small nestling who was only just getting used to his wings, but still the challenge to his place as Wellwood’s fastest flyer rang loud and clear. With a flutter of leafy wings, he took flight as if to remind at least Jacob of his skill.
Jacob, meanwhile, smiled at the thought of one of the little sprites, ‘nestlings’ as they called them, adopting humans. There seemed to be an innocence to everything the sprites did, even Bowman as he swept past on his strong little wings.
“That’s awesome news, man. I’ll do my part, too, if I find out about anything going down out here I know who I can call.”
“We’ll be there,” Dean agreed. “Keep a close eye on them, okay? Evil tends to be attracted to vulnerable communities like that, especially with that Prayer thing they’ve got going on.”
Sam leaned forward on Dean’s other hand, bracing himself with a hand on the thumb that bordered the edge. His small fingers just barely stretched to where he felt Dean’s fingernail start, the rigid surface slick under his touch. “Bowman, tell Rischa we said ‘hi,’ okay?” he called out over the line. He wished he had a longer chance to talk to her. She was wise beyond her years, and able to see through even Dean’s thick walls, helping Sam understand his older brother a little better.
“Good luck keeping Bowman out of trouble,” Dean said with a smirk. “At least you might have a chance with the rest of the village.”
Jacob chuckled over Bowman’s indignant I heard that! and sent the sprite a smirk. “I’ll do my best with this guy,” he replied, thinking about the other warning. It was lucky he visited as often as he did, if things truly were as sinister as they said. It seemed like the sprites kept leading Jacob further down the rabbit hole.
“Hey, listen, sorry if I raised the alarm for a second there, I was just calling to see if Bowman’s story was real. I won’t keep you,” he continued. Somehow he got the feeling that a pair of brothers who hunted monsters didn’t do a lot of casual chatting on the phone.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. “It sure got Sam to fall out of bed, didn’t it there, pint-size?”
Sam glared up at Dean, fully blaming him for the startling wake up. “Normal people don’t just stick a cell phone next to someone’s bed while they’re sleeping,” he groused right back. “Good to hear from you, Bowman, Jacob.” He slapped a hand against the END button so he could give Dean a proper tongue lashing without an audience.
States away at the other end of the disconnected call, Bowman was of the same mind as Sam. Jacob had barely pulled the phone away from his face before a flutter and a flash of green rushed right up to his face. A tiny fist impacted with his forehead, and then Bowman kicked off between Jacob’s eyes to dart away again. Jacob barely had time to wave a hand at him in surprise.
“That’s for not believing me!” Bowman scolded as he corkscrewed in the air.
Jacob rubbed at his forehead to get rid of the phantom feeling of a tiny bop. “Hey, I wasn’t that skeptical,” he pointed out. “I called them, didn’t I?”
Bowman huffed and crossed his arms, banking into a hover well above Jacob’s eye level. “Well you wouldn’t have needed to if you just believed me.”
“Fine, fine, you were right.”
Bowman flew in a circle over Jacob’s head, clearly pleased with the words. “Don’t soon forget it, giant.”
A short story of Brothers Apart
On the other end, Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced over to Bowman, who wore the biggest, smuggest I told you so expression Jacob had ever seen on that tiny face. The name matched what he’d said, and the rest of his story most likely would fall into place more or less like he’d told it.
Bowman, meanwhile, could see Jacob working things out for himself in a brief pause. Sam’s voice was softer than Dean’s gruff greeting, and it was because he was smaller like a sprite, not because they had a bad connection like Jacob had first thought. That had to be the ‘sprite-sized’ brother.
Bowman drifted forward with his arms crossed. “I told you,” he said proudly, jolting Jacob out of his short pause.
“Uh, hi, Dean,” Jacob replied. “I got the number off a card my friend had. He said you guys worked with him a month or so ago,” he explained. Jacob felt so strange speaking cryptically like that, but the thought of talking plainly about the sprites when their society was so vulnerable made him nervous. Until he could be sure, he wouldn’t risk them. “You guys know Bowman?”
Dean’s eyebrows shot straight up, and even Sam focused on the phone more than his predicament. “Of course we do,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes with his own familiar suspicion. The sprites were just as vulnerable as Sam’s people. “He gave us some help on a case.”
Sam arranged his blanket so it wasn’t dangling off the edge and took up the conversation. “I don’t think we could have finished the case without him,” he said warmly, remembering their time in the Wellwood forest fondly. It was a rare opportunity to spend time with people his own size, and Sam missed those sprites. Rischa and Vel, along with Bowman and all his griping. “What’s going on? Is there trouble?” He remembered Dean giving the business card out in case any other emergencies arose, since they knew that a supernatural community like that might draw in other dangers, both supernatural and mundane.
“There’s no trouble,” Bowman interrupted, taking a perch on Jacob’s shoulder so he could address the device in his massive hand. It took a lot of convincing for him to truly believe that phones worked so well that conversations could be held between people continents apart. Sam and Dean could be anywhere out there, according to Jacob, but apparently they would be able to hear him talking.
“Unless you count Jacob not believing what happened here as trouble,” Bowman continued, pointedly nudging at Jacob’s neck with a wing. The shoulder beneath him twitched. “I was saying how you guys came and took me away but then helped us and he didn’t believe that there were zom-bees.”
“Okay, but you gotta admit, zombie wolves are kind of out there,” Jacob defended, unable to stop himself. Then, remembering that he was talking to a pair of guys that apparently spent all their time hunting things like that, he asked “They are, aren’t they?”
Dean chuckled, feeling some of the tension leave at the sound of Bowman’s voice, hale and hearty and as annoyed as ever. “They are definitely not your run-of-the-mill monster, that’s for sure. Hell, we never knew there were sprites living on earth until we had a run in with Bowman. It was a weird case all around.”
“So, you’re Bowman’s friend?” Sam asked eagerly. It wasn’t often he got to talk to safe humans like Dean and Bobby. “He mentioned you when we were working together. We don’t run into too many people that know about people… Bowman’s size.” He stumbled over his words, almost slipping up and saying my size.
Jacob grinned, bemused by the thought of Bowman telling other people about him. Hopefully the stories were good. “Yeah, I guess the sprites keep themselves pretty hidden all over the place,” he replied.
“Because most of you humans are giants,” Bowman cut in pointedly. The fact that he could find an easy perch on a shoulder of all things spoke to how ridiculously big humans were.
Bowman’s use of the phrase ‘most of you’ reminded Jacob yet again what else he’d heard about Sam. “Yeah, we’re unfair about it, alright,” he replied. Before Bowman could gripe at him for his comment, he went on. “But I’m guessing you’re Sam? Bowman’s been telling me about both of you guys, and says you kept your brother from being too troublesome with him. I’m impressed because, well, I’m betting you know by now how easily he talks himself into trouble.”
“Climb a dead tree, Jacob!” Bowman protested. This time, his wing smacked at the hand with the phone, and a rustle of wings could be heard through the microphone.
Sam heard the wingslap, and was reminded of all the ways Dean and Bowman had poked at each other throughout the case. Those memories were temporarily overridden, though, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He’d forgotten Bowman would probably tell his friend about him.
“Uh, yeah. I’m Sam,” Sam introduced himself shyly. He could count on one hand the number of humans he knew and interacted with on a friendly basis, so this was a little out of his depth. “I help Dean on hunts.”
“You’re a hunter like Dean,” Dean corrected sternly, nudging his little brother in the shoulder before he tilted the phone and let Sam slide off into a hand of his own where he could safely untangle himself from the blanket. “And no one will ever say differently while I’m around.”
Every step Dean took closer to the table, Jacob felt like his heart beat a little harder. He was frozen to the spot, his hands planted against the glass and his eyes staring straight upwards. He shook at the sight of how imposing Dean was, looming over the table like he did. Jacob almost couldn’t see him past the edge of the bible. It was like Dean was directly above, casting his enormous, oppressive shadow on purpose.
Jacob was useless to do anything. Sam was vulnerable out there. His knife wouldn’t really stop Dean. It might slow him down a little bit, but that was all. At best, they’d have an annoyed giant on their case, and who knew how he’d react to that? Jacob suspected the only reason he was still alive was because he hadn’t done anything to make the hunter think he was hurting anyone.
What would happen if Sam managed to score a good cut with that knife? How quickly might Dean’s mind change? Jacob’s hands shook and he punched once at the glass again, furious and terrified that he’d gotten Sam into this situation.
Trapped, unable to defend himself, while a giant stared down at him.
“You have to run! Y-you gotta at least try! Sam, get out of here before he grabs you!” Jacob insisted, staring at the back of his brother’s head. Willing him to leave, to try to save himself.
Dean’s mind checked out halfway through the desperate, shouted words. Sam.
Sam.
Artwork by @mogadeer!
A short story of Brothers Apart
Shifting the line of books out of the way, Dean opened up Sam’s little haven to the open air and revealing the tiny desk Dean had bought him along with the little hunter himself, sprawled out in his bed and cozy under his blankets.
“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, reaching forward and nudging at one of the tiny shoulders. He almost held his breath, making sure he didn’t nudge Sam hard enough to leave bruises behind. His little brother might be full of confidence in his ability to interact and survive in the human world, but Dean knew better than anyone how simple it was for Sam to get a broken arm or leg if a person was one iota too rough.
Sam didn’t react more than to draw his blankets closer, going from sprawled out to a little ball of hunter under the nightstand.
Dean smirked, entertained by the sight and wishing he could save a picture of that for blackmail. It wasn’t safe to have pictures of any of the little people, or Dean definitely would. For now, he held the phone next to Sam’s bed and nudged him again. “Hey, pint-size, how the hell do I answer this thing?”
Sam groaned, then flinched as the phone rang, filling his nightstand haven with a loud guitar riff. “Dudewhatthehell,” he mumbled, all of his words mashed together in his exhaustion. He blinked open tired hazel eyes, trying to rub them so he could see the screen clearly. It was so bright he nearly had to shade his eyes, and he leaned out of bed to swipe the password and get rid of Dean so he could sink back into sleep.
The last part of the code was on the far side of the phone, so Sam had to stretch to reach it, and before he knew it he was falling out of bed. Vertigo struck as Sam tried to piece together what was happening, the phone lifting from under the nightstand, and the next sight he saw was Dean’s smirk, larger than life as his older brother tried to hold in a snicker at the sight.
Sam, thanks to his unexpected tumble, was still curled up in his blanket, flopped over the touch screen.
And that of course was when Sam accidentally hit Answer for the phone call. The icon changed to green to let them know the call connected, and all Sam could think to say was a sleepy “Hello?” while Dean cracked up, trying to stifle his laughter behind his other hand. Not how Sam had planned his morning to go.
There was a pause as Jacob contained his surprise that the number was actually good. He’d thought that maybe Bowman saved some litter to help with his story. “Uh, yeah, hi,” he greeted. Bowman’s wings left a light gust of air as the sprite took to the air again.
“Can they actually hear you? Is that Dean?” the sprite asked in a hushed voice, staring at the phone in Jacob’s hand. Jacob only spared him a glance as he hovered overhead.
“My name is Jacob Andris and I’m told that this number is for a Dean Winchester, is that right?” Jacob asked, his deep voice coming through the speakers so near where Sam lay tangled in his blankets.
“Uh… yeah, this is Dean’s phone,” Sam said, somehow managing to piece together a coherent reply despite how flustered he felt. There was a human on the other end, and clearly not someone Sam was familiar with, based on the voice. He glanced up at Dean, fairly desperate to be rescued from the awkward conversation. Right now he felt more like Dean’s secretary, answering his phone for him.
It took a moment more for Dean to recover from the sight of his baby brother bundled up in his blankets like a little burrito and collapsed on the phone screen. The phone was taller than Sam was, so Sam barely took up a third of the screen while he was curled up. Dean gently nudged a tiny foot so it wasn’t covering up the receiver and got a bitchface in return for not helping Sam off.
It was just too funny to see, and Dean wanted to enjoy every minute. It isn’t every day your four inch brother falls onto your phone during a call.
Dean held the phone closer to his face as he leaned back against his bed. “This is Dean Winchester. How did you get this number?”
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.
Brothers Apart 