Tag: nightmares06

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Walt Versus Dean

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 2005 (The same week Dean and Sam reunited in canon BA)

(Part 3 of 5 )

A heavy silence fell in the room. Walt’s heart began to pound in time with the pulse he could feel surging through the hand around him, waiting to see what his fate would be for speaking up.

“You can talk?” This time, the question was directed right at him. Twin green orbs stared straight into his face, the intensity alone keeping him motionless. The fingers let go of Walt’s arm and the human took a step to the side.

With a nauseating drop, the human sat down at the table, releasing Walt. Before there was a chance to even consider an escape, two immense arms thicker than he was tall had walled him in. The only exit to his prison was guarded by the two massive hands.

Still, Walt backed away, caution in his demeanor. His arms he held out to the sides for balance, keeping a steady footing. He couldn’t afford to waste any opportunities that cropped up.

The human leaned in, eyes squinting curiously. “Well?” he demanded. Before Walt could react, a hand came over and swept his satchel from his shoulders.

Walt balled his hands into fists at that. “Aside from being bigger than me, what gives you the right to trap me or anyone like this? Do you always take advantage of your size so callously?”

The words that came out of his mouth made the human stiffen in his seat. The hand holding Walt’s satchel slowly curled into a fist, putting the small bag unavoidably out of reach for the smaller man. The eyes that were trained on Walt and only Walt narrowed. “What gives me the right is the fact that you’re in my room, sneaking around. Why were you here?”

Walt narrowed his own blue eyes back. He didn’t say a word, simply crossing his arms. He would never put Sam or Mallory at risk by telling a human that he was only searching for food for his family. Visions danced in his head of this massive man tearing up the floorboards with his bare hands, greedily gathering up the rest of Walt’s family, maybe even everyone else that lived in the motel. They had no way to stop him, no one to come help them. Their fate hung in the balance.

The human waited for a few moments, then frowned. Deep rivets in his face cut an intimidating figure all over again, making an icy shiver run up Walt’s back. Damn the man was fearsome.

Seconds later, the human was leaning over. A vase that had a dusty set of fake flowers was lifted up in a huge hand. The flowers were tossed, and the man blew out the inside of the vase. Walt started to back away as he realized what was going to happen, but of course there was no way for him to escape. His climbing supplies were still wrapped up in a massive fist, out of reach, and he was over three feet in the air. He might be able to scale down on his own without a problem, but that would take time and careful action, and time was in short supply with a human around. He would only get a step or two before being grabbed again.

Then the vase slammed over his head and the time for action was over.

(

Part 1

|| Part 2 )

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Oh, I’d love to do Charlie, but I don’t know if the fic would make it all the way to season seven and eight. She’s such a bright ball of sunshine. Sam would probably get a kick out of all the action figures she has. At least if Sam breaks into her home like the Winchesters did that first time he wouldn’t so much scare the crap out of her. She’ll think she found a borrower living in her house!

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Walt Versus Dean

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 2005 (The same week Dean and Sam reunited in canon BA)

(Part 2 of 5 )

A boot crashed into the ground inches from Walt’s body. The speed he was running, coupled with the aftershock from the impact, sent Walt sprawling. He slammed into a solid leather wall, slumping down with a groan as the impact dazed him.

Head spinning, he tried to stumble back from the leather wall that had materialized in front of him. He was too disoriented to spot the shadow that was approaching him from the side, cast from high overhead as the human stooped down.

Walt’s legs buckled when he ran into something thick and unmoving as he backed away. His eyes widened as he toppled over, landing on a surface that was hard, yet at the same time gave a little when his weight hit it.

He realized what it was even as it closed around him.

A hand.

Thick, callused skin covered a palm broad enough to use for a bed. He tried to scramble off immediately, but fingers longer and thicker than his body coiled around him until there was nowhere else to go.

Trapped.

With the haunting memories of his own capture, combined with the heartbreaking time he’d seen his daughter trapped in a cage, Walt thrashed desperately, trying to escape, trying to get free. His mind refused to acknowledge his helplessness.

Then, his stomach dropped out from inside him.

The hand was lifting.

His struggles halted immediately as he was unwillingly yanked into the air. He couldn’t see out of the fist coiled around him like steel, but he knew the human was straightening to his full, terrifying height. Walt was along for the ride whether he wanted to be or not.

The moment the movement halted, the fingers shifted around him, loosening. Before he could go for his razor, damn the height, the thumb nearby slipped under his arm.

Walt suddenly found himself in an unforgiving fist, trapped from the chest down. His left arm remained crushed against his side but the right arm was free, uncomfortably propped up in the air at an awkward angle by the human’s huge thumb.

The hand tilted with Walt confined inside. He found himself staring up into unblinking green eyes the size of his head, watching his struggles with simple curiosity. A calm, interested detachment while Walt’s life hung in the balance at the whim of one of his greatest enemies.

The human frowned. Walt’s blood turned to ice.

“What the hell are you?” the deep voice asked. The human was talking to himself as he curiously eyed the small person he’d captured.

While he was talking, Walt couldn’t look away from the huge mouth. A lazy drawl curled around the words as the air vibrated.

The huge thumb shifted under Walt’s arm again. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the other massive hand moving.

Realizing it was coming straight for him, Walt tried to twist out of the way. The human was fast. An index finger and thumb closed around his arm. The lean limb was helpless between the huge digits, outsizing Walt’s entire body. He realized with a start that all it would take for the human to snap the arm in two would be a simple flinch.

“Be careful with that!” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was talking.

( Part 1 )

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The newest prompt had a choice between Walt, Mallory or Krissy. Walt is the only likely one in that group to go out to the rooms to get supplies. Krissy always goes with someone else, most often Sam, and Mallory doesn’t leave their home or the walls often. She mostly keeps at home since she’s so small. Walt and Sam can defend themselves much better than her.

Lucky Walt

Walt vs. Dean

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Having Sam’s trust is the most important thing in the world to Dean, especially with the new change. He’ll probably be going along with shenanigans a lot from here on out, because there’s no way he’d just leave Sam high and dry with John after a fight like that. Gotta stick together!

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Walt Versus Dean

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 2005 (The same week Dean and Sam reunited in canon BA)

(Part 1 of 5 )

Take it in steps.

First, examine the room. Watch the shadows. Listen for breathing.

Wait.

Patience is key to survival. You must be willing to wait and analyze and decide if the risk is worth the gain.

Food does you no good if you get caught.

Stay alert.

No matter how certain you are that they’re gone, nothing is stopping them from coming back. Never drop your guard. It might be the last thing you ever do.

The maids don’t pay attention here. Your luck might hold up if they’re the ones that come in the room.

Might.

But there’s no way to ever know.

Those words were always on Walt’s mind. Some of the last words he’d ever said to Bree, and the words he now repeated to Sam ad nauseum. He was desperate not to lose another child to the humans.

For that reason alone, Walt was glad he’d caught Sam trying to sneak out that morning.

It was a good plan to check the empty room before anyone else checked in, but an odd feeling, the sense of foreboding, that trouble was waiting right around the corner for all of them, had made Walt tell Sam to stay with Mallory. He could help with her de-threading that she was working on.

Walt had gone instead.

And now, despite all his planning and watching and listening and waiting, he was in trouble.

Sam might already have been caught if he was the one in the room.

A massive boot hit the ground less than a foot from his hiding place, shaking the ground around him. He flinched back, knowing that all the human had to do was glance to the side. The chair leg he had darted behind in desperation to get out of sight offered no real cover.

He could feel the reassuring weight of his razor tucked against his chest, weighing down his jacket. It might not be as sturdy or as sharp as Sam’s beloved knife (a weapon that had been crafted with a skill Walt found himself admiring), but it would get the job done if he needed to defend himself.

As the human continued past his hiding place, walking into the bathroom, Walt peered around the leg of the chair. His breathing hitched in anticipation. The man was out of sight.

It was now or never.

Gone was any thought of watching or waiting. He was out in the open, far from cover. The distance he needed to run to get under that cover would barely be two steps for the human if he was seen.

He’d never win that race.

His legs tensed, then he dashed towards the looming dresser. The welcome darkness underneath beckoned him. No number of dustbunnies would stop him from diving into that darkness.

The floor started to tremble.

No, no, no! Walt hadn’t even made it halfway in his heartstopping run of desperation. He forced his legs to pump faster, desperately gasping in air. The soles of his boots dug into the worn carpet as he went.

“What the hell?” the voice boomed overhead.

He’d been spotted.

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Oh, man. Can you see Sam dealing with a hyperactive squirrel version of his brother? Especially since he isn’t his moose self, like on the show. If he can get Dean to sit still for a few minutes, he could always hitch a ride on the squirrel. They could have an adventure together.

…But if they want to get Dean back to normal, they should call Bobby. Especially since neither of them can now drive the Impala. Yep, definitely call Bobby. And deal with Dean’s constant bitching about anyone else finding out that he’s now a squirrel

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Dean Rescues Sam

BA Canon: No || AU

Timeline: 1993 (Dean is 14; Sam is 10)

(Part 3 of 4)

Dean tried to ignore the argument as he sullenly got ready for school, shoving an extra notebook into his backpack. It wasn’t like he was going to be in the school long enough to actually learn anything. What the hell was the point?

John glared down at his younger son, who was doing his best to stand his ground on the table. At only two and a half inches tall, a glare like that wasn’t easy to look into without flinching.

“Dad, it’s just school,” Sam protested. “How can I keep up if I stay in the motel all day?”

“It’s not safe,” John said grimly. “What if someone sees you? It’s not a risk you’re taking. You’ll be safer back here with me. When Dean gets back he can fill you in on what he learned.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing as well as Dean did that his older brother rarely paid attention long enough in class to soak up the lessons. John’s eyes narrowed. “Sam…”

“Fine,” Sam snapped. He kicked the pen that was left near him on the table. “I’ll stay,” he finished in a mumble.

John nodded sharply. He spotted Dean, still standing in the shadow of the bathroom. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he snapped. The recent reveal of his younger son’s curse had left his patience thin. Dean and Sam were both treading on thin ice constantly.

Dean didn’t say a word, just swung his backpack onto his shoulders. He tried to give Sam a reassuring glance, I’ll be back soon, but Sam refused to meet his gaze. Great, Dean thought. Bad enough he had to leave the two of them alone. Worse that neither of them was happy with him.

John grabbed a set of clothing, stomping into the bathroom. “Make sure the door is locked behind you!” he shouted at Dean, paying no mind to the way Sam flinched at the loud noise.

Dean shuffled his way out of the room, trying to draw out the time until he left.

He was so withdrawn into himself that he never noticed the weight that slipped into his pocket when he passed by the table.

( Part 1 || Part 2 )

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The Cat

BA Canon: No

Timeline: After The Schism of Fire and Water

Original Post: Sam Verses Cat ( you wanted Dean, here he comes! This will be a little bonus prompt )

( Part 2 of 2 )

Dean shoved the plates and silverware set up on the table out of his way, gently laying Sam down on a dishcloth. “Hang on, Sammy,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of that for you.”

Sam groaned, trying to sit up. “Dean…” he gritted out. “Cat…”

“I took care of it. Don’t worry, it can’t reach you, pint-size.” Carefully, Dean pushed on Sam’s chest, forcing him to lie still. “Just give me a minute. I need to grab supplies.”

Sam sagged back down, letting Dean take over. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a second Dean panicked until he saw the small chest move up and down. Only then did he get up. Supplies… he needed supplies. He hadn’t brought supplies in with him. Something to disinfect the slashes, something to wrap them up with. It would be impossible to give Sam stitches.

Shoving away the panic welling in him, Dean opened up the door again. The cat was waiting outside and tried to shove its way past him. Angrily, Dean grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. He locked the cat up in the kitchen. The people who owned the house would be back soon enough, they could let it out.

The bathroom next to the kitchen had a first aid kit. He grabbed it and ran back to the dining room. Sam was still slumped down, only this time he was unconscious. Dean cursed under his breath.

With great care, he removed the jacket Sam had on, wincing at the slashes that raked the back. Another jacket down for Sam…

Dean gently dropped it to the side, then had to take off the tiny t-shirt his brother had on. He maneuvered the small, fragile arms so they didn’t get caught as he stripped it off. Sam’s body was limp as Dean held him up, shifting his brother so he was lying facedown on the hand.

Four bright red lines stretched across the hunter’s lean back. Blood caked every part of him, more welling up as Dean watched. Hurriedly, he pressed a wet rag against the cuts, wiping off the blood and covering them up while he got an alcohol pad ready. “This is going to hurt,” he warned his brother’s unconscious form before pressing it against the cuts.

Knocked out or not, Sam writhed in pain at the contact. Dean bit his lip, forcing himself to not move. He stroked it down the cuts, cleaning off more blood and sterilizing the wounds. Dabbing a wet paper towel against Sam’s back cleaned off the rest of the blood before he decided to try wrapping it.

With one hand occupied, Dean had to use his teeth to rip the gauze and start unraveling it. Once he had enough, he put a sterile cloth against Sam’s back and began to steadily wrap the gauze around the other hunter, trying to avoid making it too tight. He sighed when he was finished, carefully checking his work to make sure he’d covered the full injury.

Sam started to shiver, from cold and blood loss. Dean cupped him against his chest. “It’s okay, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.”

( Part 1 )

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