Sneak Peek

A few story titles were guessed before we started posting the sneak peeks to go along with them, so with no further ado I present Clash of the Hunters!

The second Jacob’s hands were on the cage, Dean was on the move.

As dangerous as it was to attack with Sam still in the line of fire, there would be no better chance. The hunter had lost his gun. Jacob was free and had his hands on the cage containing the sprite, reducing the chances of collateral damage of a fight between the older hunters.

Sam knew the risks as well as Dean.

So while Jacob was backing off from the hunter with Bowman safe, Dean was already sprinting through the field. Long legs covered the ground that had taken Sam a half hour to cross in seconds. His boots dug fissures in the ground with the force of striking the ground, all to propel him towards his enemy. It was enough that if any of the sprites were in his way, there would be nothing left of them.

But they knew when to keep clear and when to attack. Scar was a good leader, and would see his opening just as Dean had found his.

The hunter hadn’t fully turned in Dean’s direction when there was suddenly a fist slamming into his jaw. Dean didn’t waste a second in his attack. The man was thrown backwards from the force, and his pocket slammed away with him. Only a passing guilt hit at the fact that Sam was about to be in the center of two dueling humans. He would do what he could to keep Sam safe, even during the deadly fight.

It was for this reason that he didn’t use his knife right off the bat. Instead of a vicious follow-up, Dean’s hands sealed around the other hunter’s wrist, preventing him from falling at the same time as he prevented a counterattack. Either could be disastrous for Sam.

“You think you can come in here and terrify a bunch of peaceful sprites?” Dean snarled. “Threaten to cut their wings off and trap them in cages? This forest is under my protection.”

A flurry of leaves blew up around them as the wind kicked up.

“Mine. And theirs.”


It’s not that he’s less nice, because in Dean’s mind he thinks he’s being just as good a guy as always. He just takes all decisions into his own hands, tends to do whatever he thinks is best, and won’t really take no for an answer. It’s like high-level big brothering, because here, the younger one won’t argue back with the giant that captured me

Poor Jacob. 


And therein lies one of the big differences between Sam and Jacob. While they might both seem like shy little mini-Sasquatches, Sam is far more likely than Jacob to tell someone off. Jacob doesn’t like confrontation and he will avoid it even if it means silently dealing with Dean’s well-intentioned but stifling protectiveness.

February 8th excerpt:

Bowman scoffed and squirmed again. He didn’t have time for something like this. Not when Logan looked completely skeptical of the conversation, too. Bowman was the only one on his own side, and he had to focus on getting away. He couldn’t give them time to decide they wanted to hurt him.

He almost spat out another scathing remark, but in his struggles he spotted movement on Dean’s chest. He blinked, but could have sworn he saw a couple pairs of eyes, normal sized ones, peering out of a pocket at him. The notion threw him off and he froze.

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?”


45. Dreaming

Three strokes. Flip. Four strokes. Flip.

Alone in her small dollhouse, Bree contented herself counting the time as she brushed her hair. The Mangas family was out for the day, at some park or another, and Briella Watch was left on her own to pass the time.

Only a passing thought was given to the people she knew were in the storage room, waiting to be sold. She couldn’t think too much about them, there was nothing she could do. She was sealed away, trapped in a house inside a room with all entrances to the walls sealed off.

This family knew the tricks, after all.

Three strokes. A quick flip of her hair, and a garishly pink doll hairbrush went through the strands of golden hair while Bree stared into the clouds outside the window. Long eyelashes closed, and a tear hid at the side of her eye.

People were trapped, and she was up here, with her head in the clouds. Every night, she was plagued by thoughts of what could have been. Her only release was in sleep, in dreams of her old home with her mother and her father. Mallory’s constant smile at her while she took her first steps, Walt’s stern pride as he taught her how to climb.

Every night, she saw their faces in her dreams and they pushed back the dark cloud that hung over her head. She had to hide it, though. Beth couldn’t know what she was thinking.

They couldn’t take away her dreams.

Four strokes. Flip.

True! Dean can be heavy-handed when either the situation calls for it or when he’s hot-headed and raring for a fight.

The difference here is if he does roughhouse with Sam, he could do permanent damage to his little brother, and put an end to what trust they’ve managed to scrape together. That said, I highly doubt Dean will ever win a fight in this method. The relationship between them is different in my AU than what’s on the Supernatural TV show.

On the other hand, Dean has absolutely no problem using his size against his enemies. Even Bowman, at first, had to deal with a harsher Dean than Sam anytime.

Future snippet to illustrate this:

“It wasn’t an offer,” Dean said simply. The defiant stance had no effect on his determination. “And if you don’t, you’ll just have to deal with the consequences. Simple as that.”

With a painful slowness, he curled the fingers of his hand inwards, boxing the man in. The little guy’s eyes widened and he tried to push himself away from the advancing wall. But his hands were small against even Dean’s fingertips, unable to hold them back.

Dean didn’t stop there. In short order, there was no sign that he had another human in his hand. All that was visible was Dean’s fist and the ring on his finger. The guy was completely clenched inside.

“Fuck! Let me out! ” the man 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.

Without warning, Dean flipped his hand upside down so all that was holding the guy from dashing to the ground was Dean’s curled fingers. “This is a classic case of ‘be careful what you wish for,’ ” Dean said with a grin. His fingers loosened up a little so that the guy would be able to see the ground down below through the cracks.

With the constant struggles, Dean waited patiently until one of the man’s small legs happened into the space between his index finger and thumb. Seizing the moment, his finger pinned the leg against his thumb…

And Dean opened his hand.

(Name removed for spoiler purposes)

February 14th excerpt:

Dean tried to lash out with the boot that was being examined, wishing he could reach the guy’s face and hit him in the eye. Let him know what it felt like. If their positions were reversed, Dean wouldn’t put him in a pocket. A damn cage sounded like just the place for the human.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?” Dean snapped.

“All hands is not the way to woo a girl.”

He will indeed! During the Brothers Adopted series, Dean and Jacob will have a run-in, and Sam isn’t around to straighten things out.

“Hey.” Leaning forward, Dean tapped against the glass vase a few times to get the guy’s attention again. “I already know you can talk so this silent treatment crap ain’t gonna do you any good.” Again, he felt ridiculously oversized seeing his finger next to someone so small. A casual tap like that against the kid might end up knocking him over. Hell, a stiff breeze might knock him over.

For a moment, all of Jacob’s fear vanished from his face, replaced by confusion. He frowned. The action hadn’t had any effect on his desire to speak to the human holding him captive. The scrutiny and the noise with the human that close had his nerves back in place in no time, but not without Jacob giving the human a look that said Really? He squared his shoulders, took a step forward, and drew a fist back. He punched the glass as hard as he could, defiance and frustration in the action. See how well this works? his expression seemed to say.

Dean was briefly caught off guard by the punch. It showed a spark of defiance he hadn’t expected, to say the least. A small bit of his former playful demeanor rose up in him and he found himself actually grinning for a moment. The angry facade dropped away, letting the Dean he used to be showed through in that moment.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” Dean asked gamely. He tapped right back at the little guy, finger rapping lightly directly opposite where the punch had landed.

Jacob flinched in surprise, the sound of another tap on the glass startling him almost as much as the sudden shift in the giant face in front of him. A smile, a genuine one, lit up the human’s expression and a playful tone had leaked into his deep voice.

Jacob glanced side to side, waiting for someone to walk around the corner somewhere and end the joke here. His fist was still held up at the ready, but he glanced at it before looking at the glass, unsure if he should even try to punch again.