September 18th excerpt:

Sam looked worriedly at Dean. “You gotta be careful with him!” he warned quietly.

With a rueful grin, Dean shook his head in exasperation. “I take care of you, right?” he reminded Sam. “He’ll be fine with me.”

Reaching for Sam’s pocket, Dean flipped open the flap and went to scoop the kid up into a confined fist to avoid anyone else spotting what they had hidden.

A New Haul


(Dean, possession)

AU: Brothers Consulted

Timeline: Eight days after cursed

“Please… we need help…”

Dean held Sam close to him, looking up at the woman with dried tears clinging to his eyelashes. Twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four hours since they’d woken up like this, and there was a small light in the dark.

He couldn’t quite remember everything. It was all a blur before waking up in the hot, humid darkness. A woman, breaking into their room and attacking them. Dean could do nothing to keep her from his little brother. She’d pinned him effortlessly to the wall, without once touching him, forcing him to watch his little brother vanish into a white light.

And then doing the same for him, the world going black as the white light surrounded him.

Now, they’d escaped from her, but nothing was the way they remembered.

Motel rooms were larger than sweeping cathedrals. A football stadium could fit on the two beds. People were giants, the remote for the TV was unmovable, and Dean was scared.

Nothing, not his dad’s training, not Bobby’s stories, nothing, could have prepared him for this.

The woman stared down at him, her eyes widening in slight surprise. Dean could see so much detail in her face, he knew the moment her pupils dilated. He could smell the sickly-sweet scent of wine on her breath when her mouth parted.

That was all the warning they got.

Her hand swept out, long fingers curling around the two tiny children. Sam cried out in surprise as Dean did his best to block her attack, but standing under four inches tall meant there was no way for him to stop her.

A fist closed harshly around them, and Sam’s cries went from surprised to pained, and then stopped.

Dean sucked in a breath as the motel room nightstand vanished under their feet, the height forgotten in the wake of worry for his brother.

What did she do to Sammy?

“Please,” Dean begged. “We just need help…”

She lifted them up, her hand opening when held in front of her eyes. There was no warmth in those eyes as she scanned every one of the brothers’ very few inches.

“Wonderful…” she breathed, that sickly smell hitting Dean in a wave. He almost retched.

Containing his reaction, Dean glared at the woman as he cradled his brother in his arms. “What did you do?” he shouted angrily, Sam’s arm limp and hanging from the socket in an unnatural position.

“Sweetie,” she said in a condescending voice, “you’re just a toy. A possession. You should remember that the next time you talk back.”

She turned from the nightstand, the long fingers curling around the two boys as she rifled through the pockets of a jacket and withdrew a phone. A red-painted fingernail winked in the light at them as it tapped out a message.

New haul. Bring cage.

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Dean would want to help Sam however he can! If he can’t get Sam to wake up, since it’s a lot harder to break through to someone while they’re stuck in a dream, he’d sit next to Sam’s head on the pillow and rub his forehead, telling Sam stories from their childhood and straying into his own life growing up on his own after the curse.

April 18th excerpt:

Before anyone else could react, Dean’s hand swiped through the air. He might be drugged, exhausted and seeing double half the time, but he was still a hunter. Not to mention a big brother who’d only just rediscovered his little brother and found out he had an adopted family. Bowman ended up snatched up in a loose fist, brought close to the glazed green eyes to inspect him for any injuries.

“What about you?” Dean asked worriedly as he squinted at the tiny sprite he was holding only two inches from his face. One of his fingers carefully nudged at Bowman’s arm to make sure it was moving okay. “Did anyone bother you while we were gone? Did anyone bother my baby?”

Worry shone in Dean’s green eyes as he glanced towards the window. The sunset had arched across the sky with scattered red clouds and a shock of the last rays, but now it was dark and foreboding outside. The roaring pattern of rain started up seconds after the rumble of thunder died down.

A light flickered in the room, and that sealed Dean’s resolve. “C’mon guys, game’s over,” he muttered. He slipped off the edge of the bed, padding over to them on socked feet. He sank to the ground, holding his hand out. He didn’t want to risk them out in the room if the power went out. They were too small, and he was too big.

Lightning flashed outside again, and Sam bounced to his feet in surprise. He ran towards Dean’s hand as the thunder rumbled again.

The second rumble of thunder motivated Oscar to bound towards the offered hand, too. He nearly stumbled on the carpet threads, but he managed to keep his feet and run to Dean’s outstretched fingers. He hopped up before the next flicker of all the lamps in the room.

Oscar crouched down on Dean’s palm, looking wide-eyed up at the human. “Th-the thunder’s a lot louder out here than in the walls,” he said. His gaze strayed to the window in time for a more subdued flash and an upswing in the rain. Oscar’s hand found Sam’s arm almost on reflex, anchoring himself to the other kid and knowing he wasn’t by himself while the sky raged outside. “It’s still loud in there, too, though,” he added in a quieter voice.

Dean lifted his hand away from the ground as the two kids huddled together. Before he went to stand, he cupped his hand against his chest, bringing up his second hand to shield them like he was protecting a flickering candle from the wind. Hidden from sight, another human would never know what Dean had cupped against his chest. Two tiny, fragile children that trusted him.

He stood and made his way over to the bed that was farthest from the window. “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Dean promised them while he moved. “You’ll be safe with me, I promise.”

Read More Here


( Presenting a never before seen flashback all the way from the first week after Dean discovering Sam in Brothers Apart! )

There is a flash of boots coming straight at him, and Sam dives out of the way.

It is an instinctive, unthinking reaction to the sight of those massive leather structures that move under the control of the humans that share the world with people his size. “Borrowers,” Dean calls them, no matter how many times Sam argues against it.

He has only been traveling with his brother for two days and so is not adjusted to having a person so large around.

Sam hits the ground and rolls under the bed. It is an area that gives him more safety than the wide open area of the rest of the motel room. Dean doesn’t understand this yet, because he can’t see things the way Sam does.

He can’t see the way he towers over the entire room. He doesn’t understand the fear lurking in Sam that one of those massive hands will shoot towards the smaller hunter-in-training and trap him against his will.

It is these thoughts that Sam always has in mind. They plague him every day. After all, within the week Dean has grabbed him against his will not once, but twice.

The first time was no one’s fault. Dean hadn’t known it was Sam he was stalking in his motel room any more than Sam had known Dean was the human stalking him.

The second time was on purpose for Dean, but unexpected once more for Sam. It was a demonstration of why Sam couldn’t let his guard down, even with Dean.

It saddens him to think how dangerous his own older brother could be, just because of a curse that struck when they were children. They were so close back then.

Sometimes Sam wonders what would have happened to them if Dean had been struck by the curse as well. Or if the witch had chosen to strike at the older Winchester in the moment before their dad busted down the door.

The boots hesitate where they’d stopped. The weight on them shifts, and Sam sees a huge knee drop down from above to press into the ground.

Dean is kneeling.

It awes Sam to consider just how much power his older brother has grown into as an adult. And not just in comparison to Sam. The older Winchester goes head to head with monsters on a regular basis and always comes out on top. There are scars from these fights, scars that Sam can see better than anyone else, but still Dean lives to fight on.

Sam scrambles to his feet as kind green eyes dip down into view and Dean peers under the bed to look for him. Guilt covers the hunter’s face at the way his little brother has run from him.

Sam’s chest continues to heave from the brief scare when the green eyes land on him at last, and this makes Dean’s face soften even more. There aren’t many things that can break the stern facade that Dean Winchester keeps around him, but his little brother so afraid is one of them.

“Sammy,” he says, his voice a soft thunder of concern. “You know…” He has to pause and clear his throat. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he switches track smoothly. “You know I can see you on the ground, right? I’m not about to step on my baby brother.

The desperate apology in those eyes surprises Sam. He never means to make Dean feel that way. It was simply a reaction, one that was instinctive when dealing with people that towered over his head and he was small enough to get pinned to the ground by a single finger.

Compared to a human, he is small and weak.

Sam wishes he can make Dean understand it isn’t his fault. It never will be. And so he tries.

First, he steps out from under cover. The safety of the bed is deceptive, anyway. The mattress can be lifted by a human like Dean without a problem. One of those hands can shoot out to grab him where he hides. More vulnerability for Sam.

Dean’s eyes track Sam’s movements, but he doesn’t make a move. It doesn’t help that whenever Dean moves, Sam flinches. Because of this, the hunter is already learning to restrain unnecessary movements.

The necessity saddens Sam.

His brother shouldn’t have to change who he is if he wants to be around his little brother without getting flinches or fear in return.

“I-I know you’re not,” Sam manages to get out as he stares up at Dean. The older hunter has flattened himself against the dusty rug so they can talk and his eyes are still above Sam’s head. Dean could put his chin against the ground and it would be the same.

Sam was too small.

“It’s just…” Sam waves his hand at the open area between the beds, trying to ignore how small it looks in comparison to his surroundings. For so long, he lived in the walls and with people his own size. Now, he is with Dean constantly, and reminded of his curse every single moment.

“You’re really big,” Sam finishes lamely, wishing he had the words.

Dean’s lips thin to a line, and Sam feels tension start to wind up his back. The sight of a giant with an intense glare like that on his face is not easy to take in at four inches in height. Dean doesn’t mean it, but his size gets in the way of an innocent look.

“Sam,” Dean said, “I know you have to be careful. I just want you to know… I won’t forget you’re here. You deserve to be able to live without being afraid all the time. I… I want to help.

This time, it is Sam’s face that softens. He takes another step out into the open, this time completely away from the cover of the bed. “I know you do.”

He rests his small arm on one of Dean’s massive hands and uses it to lean on. That huge hand could spring up at any time and coil completely around his body.

But it doesn’t, and it won’t, and Sam knows this.

“Just watch where you toss your dirty socks,” Sam snarks up at his brother, feeling the last of the tension sloughing off at the return of their normal banter. Moments like this were when he barely even felt the size difference, and it was good. “I don’t need the nightstand smelling like dirty feet all night.” He wrinkles his nose and is rewarded with a chuckle from Dean.

No matter how different, they will always be brothers.

Which is probably why Sam finds a dirty sock lurking outside of the nightstand the next morning.


“If I don’t knock on the door twice, no matter what, even if I’m alone, DO NOT come out from hiding. Not until I give you the signal. You need to stay safe, and if something happens to me, I could be just as dangerous to you as any monster.” In the memory, Dean lifts up a hand, holding it next to Sam for comparison. It stretches out almost twice Sam’s length. Each of the fingers is thick and strong, all more powerful than the smaller hunter. “I don’t ever want to hurt you with these, and if I get possessed by a demon, the first thing they’ll do is go for you.” The hand wraps around Sam unexpectedly, pinning his arms to his sides with unrelenting strength. There is no time for Sam to react to the hunter’s quick movements.

Sam has only been with his older brother for a day at this point, and he stares up at Dean from the clenched fist with fear in his eyes. The only thing that keeps him from freaking out from the way he’s trapped is the pain in Dean’s eyes… the worry, the self-loathing for what he’s doing. Dean clearly wants nothing more than to keep Sam safe, even as he closes his huge hand firmly around his little brother’s fragile body.

So even though Sam desperately wants to thrash and struggle, to try and escape, he stills himself in Dean’s overpowering grasp. As Sam is helplessly lifted up off the table, he gives his trust to Dean, hoping it isn’t misplaced. He can clearly remember how it had felt when Dean had no idea who he was, capturing him with ease in the same immense hand clenched around his body now.

The hand stops a few inches in front of Dean’s face, fingers opening up around Sam. He scrambles to a stand in the palm, small chest heaving from the unexpected scare. He can’t help but eye his brother’s fingers suspiciously from where he stands, still within their clutches. It is an unwanted reminder of how powerless he is next to his brother. 

Dean’s eyes stared at him with a kind expression. “Sam, the last thing I want is for you to EVER be afraid of me. But it’s more important that you understand that anything can happen, and if anything ever happens to you because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.” 

Sam frowns, but nods his understanding.

Dean’s other hand lifts up, gently rubbing Sam’s back to try and reassure him after the scare. Sam can’t stop a shiver, standing there helpless between those huge hands that can so easily trap or crush him. Which, after Dean’s demonstration he understands better than ever. Dean’s face falls when he sees this. He nods sadly at Sam as he lowers his hand back to his side, understanding and accepting his reaction.

But it still hurts him to see his brother afraid.

Read more here

Dean Rescues Sam

BA Canon: No || AU

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

(Part 1 of 4)

Dean growled, trying to get free of the wall. “You bitch,” he spat angrily. “What did you do to him?!”

The witch smirked, her long, lustrous blonde hair wafting in the air as the spell she’d hit Sam with started to die down. “You’ll soon find out,” she said with the deadly hiss of a promise. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Her chanting started again. Struggling, Dean’s eyes went wide as her hand, clawed around the air, lifted up in preparation to hit him.

Before she could get the blast off, someone slammed against the door. It shuddered. John Winchester’s voice could be heard outside the door. “I’m coming boys!”

“Damn,” the witch snarled. “Better make this quick.” She held up the hand again, preparing the spell.

The door shattered. John barreled in, tackling the witch without taking a breath. He slammed into her, knocking her away from Dean with a shriek.

Dean hit the ground, falling straight down from where he’d been pinned up over three feet in the air. He moaned, certain he’d broken something.

The groan tapered off when his eyes landed on something right next to the battling hunter and the witch. Something small, in familiar colors. Dean almost gasped.


He crawled over to the prostrate from. His brother was less than four inches tall, curled up in a tiny ball and shuddering in pain. Sam’s shudders increased as Dean lifted him off of the ground. Or maybe it was his hands that were shaking.

Dean was yanked off his feet without warning, John shoving him out of the door. His fingers curled protectively around his brother. “D-dad…” he stuttered. He had no idea what to do.

“Get in the car, Dean!”

A gunshot sounded out. A shrieking laugh was heard. The witch vanished before the bullet hit her. John held the gun in front of him as he backed away.

Dean got into the front seat of the Impala, holding his tiny brother against his chest. Sam had gone motionless, slumped across his fingers. “It’s okay, Sammy. I gotcha,” he whispered even as John dove into the driver’s seat and started it up. The car screeched out of the parking lot.

“Everything will be okay, Sam. I promise.”