Tag: lald

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December 26th excerpt:

Dropping to his knees, Sam had eyes only for Stan. He missed the way Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes above them, his hand wavering slightly under Stan in his distraction. A movement that Sam missed, so slight that it was barely perceptible for the human hunter.

“Hey there,” Sam said, his voice hushed so it was nearly a whisper. He flared his fingers open into a small wave. “My name’s Sam. That’s my brother Dean. What’s your name?” His voice remained level and even, doing what he could to lessen any intimidation to the smaller man. After being left in Dean’s pocket for so long, Sam doubted the guy would be thinking completely straight.

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December 25th excerpt:

“That’s right, I almost forgot,” Dean murmured in surprise, drawing Sam’s eyes right to him, distracted from watching the fire slowly die down. He went to reach for the pocket, shifting his weight to make it easier for his hand to slip in.

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December 24th excerpt:

Overwhelmed, Stan began to sob silently. His hands moved from his ringing ears to hug his knees close as he wept into them, and again to cling to the pocket when the human moved. Still his tears flowed, becoming fearful as it sank in that his life was now in the hands of hunters.

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December 23rd excerpt:

Stan grunted softly as he landed unceremoniously in the bottom of the pocket, but for a moment he was too shocked to move. The human had spared him, trapping him in what looked like a jacket pocket instead of killing him. Stan had to wonder why he was allowed to live, especially as he clung to the material around him to keep himself from being thrown around while the human moved.

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December 22nd excerpt:

Not a foot and a half from where he’d landed, someone was staring back at him, equally wide-eyed with shock. Never in his life, despite growing up knowing about the supernatural and watching, eventually helping, his father kill witches, werewolves and vengeful spirits, had Dean ever seen anyone quite like the little guy with the flame of red hair.

The kid couldn’t stand an inch over half a foot, if that. His skin was pale, hair so bright red it stood out against the background.

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December 20th excerpt:

Stan’s frantic run stuttered at the tremble of the aftershocks of the hunter’s impact through the floor. He glanced over his shoulder at the sudden threat that had invaded their home, and regretted it immediately. He thought he’d been terrified before just feeling the tremors of each step of the hunters’ entrance, hearing their deep, rumbling voices that seemed to vibrate the very air and send shudders through the smaller man’s chest.

But looking back…

Just looking straight on, he could see enormous boots well past Nicholas’ shoes. Rugged jeans seemed to rise straight into the sky from them, and Stan didn’t dare look up to see who they were attached to.

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December 19th excerpt:

Stan’s blood ran cold as it sank in. Hunters! Without question, he turned and ran full tilt, keeping to the wall as Nicholas stood to face the men who had barged into his home and dared take on a witch.

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December 18th excerpt:

“Do you love me, Stan?” Nicholas asked, leaning down so his eyes were closer to Stan’s level.

“Yessir,” Stan answered without hesitation.

“And are you happy with me?”

“Yessir.”

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December 17th excerpt:

Nicholas unscrewed the top and Stan braced himself, expecting the witch to pluck him out and put him down somewhere. But it never happened. Instead, the jar simply tilted on its side, and Stan slid around on the old handkerchief he used as a cushion and blanket. Only then was Stan, jar and all, placed on the desk in the study just off the first room.

“Rest now,” said Nicholas in a voice that would almost seem gentle if not for the ever-present rasp in his voice that always warned of danger. “You did well, my pet.”