December 3rd excerpt:

For a moment, Logan thought Dean had shoved him into the exhaust pipe, a dark metal corridor that he wanted no part in. He could only imagine toxic smoke belching forth out of the dark to smother him. However, when he jolted to his feet and checked his hands, there was no grimy residue, only some dust. His frown deepened as he tried to figure out what the opening was even for.

“Are you kidding me? What if there is something that bites me all to shit?!” he called down.

“Just kick it!” came Dean’s not-so-helpful advice. “You’ve got boots, put ‘em to use!”

June 15th excerpt:

“Can’t have my favorite morsel starving himself to death,” Dean mused to himself, reaching one long arm behind him to a tin Bobby had on the counter top. Inside was an assortment of chips, crackers and pretzels, all good snacks to eat when too busy to sit down and really enjoy a meal. Mostly used for straight-up energy by Bobby or any visitors than any flavor the snacks might offer.

Pulling out a pretzel, Dean flicked it at Logan. “Eat up,” he commanded.

August 17th excerpt:

Logan paused, waiting for Dean to notice that he’d escaped the enclosure. Hearing no bellows of surprise, the shrunken hunter crept towards the edge of Dean’s lap, peering over the side into the grass. Overhead, he heard Bowman say excitedly, “I see him, he’s coming this way!” Logan scowled, thinking that the last thing he wanted was to see that damn kid at this new scale. Using the edge of Dean’s pocket as an initial handhold, Logan slipped over the side to climb down before anyone noticed. At least Jacob might offer a distraction.

August 16th excerpt:

“Fuck! Let me out! ” Logan bellowed, seething with the knowledge that a lot of his volume was lost to the prison encased around him. He writhed as much as he could in the extremely tight space, which didn’t say much. His arms were pinned at awkward angles to his chest and his legs could hardly move at all. Dean’s ring dug into his side mercilessly every time he shifted.

August 15th excerpt:

Logan pushed himself up to his hands and knees gingerly, ignoring Sam for the time being. His focus was on the hand underneath him, with leathery skin thicker than should be possible. Logan fit easily on the palm of Dean’s hand and there would be room for more of him, easily.

He was small. He was small.

And he was trapped on a giant hand.

Logan finally turned his shocked gaze to the face like a billboard. Dean’s intensity, focused on him so keenly, dropped ice into the reduced human’s stomach. He scowled, though there was a hint of desperation in the expression, and tried to push himself to a stand. It didn’t work, and he instead pitched to the side. He could feel Dean’s pulse thumping along under the callused skin.

August 11th excerpt:

The prisoner finally looked to Dean, the only one who he had a mite of respect for, if only because of his fighting skill. He still regarded the other hunter like he was garbage in the gutter. “I see the little vermin have you both good and trained,” he spat.

Dean coolly arched an eyebrow at Logan. “Trained?” He glanced down at Sam, sitting calmly on a shoulder, then back at Logan. “He can’t be talking about me, can he?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “He wouldn’t say that if he ever saw the socks you leave in the sink,” he complained loudly, not showing any of the pain that he still felt in his arm. “I mean, really. Who leaves socks in the sink, of all places?”

August 9th excerpt: 

The whirlwind of green came to an abrupt halt as soon as Logan hit the ground. Knights hovered in the air where they’d stopped, watching with some alarm as Dean took the advantage and held it. Many had already moved to the fringe of the formation after running out of darts, and some were backing away from the sight. 

Dean was vicious. Anyone would have a healthy respect for that look on his face.

Of course, respect or not, Bowman could see that Logan was knocked out, or close enough to it. But Dean kept right on hitting him, pent up rage fueling every powerful strike. A single blow like that would shatter a sprite and Logan had taken far more than just one.

August 8th excerpt:

Within seconds Bowman vanished into the storm of sprites sweeping around the colossal figures of Logan and Dean, some occasionally leaving scratches on the former with their swords as they supported the latter.