Tag: sam winchester

Is there a story with Oscar and Bobby?

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Not just yet! There are a couple of AUs that last left off with Oscar on his way to meet Bobby (and Rumsfeld, but Sam conveniently forgot to warn Oscar about the doggo before convincing him to go).

The Brothers Together AU, in which Sam and Dean met little Oscar when they were all kids.

Food and Monsters, an AU created by @neonthewrite and the origin of Oscar. I write a new installment of this series every year around contest time, so you can actually expect to see Oscar meet Bobby at last sometime in the next couple months!

From Burgers and Pixie Dust, the third in the Food and Monsters series:

“Oz, why didn’t you tell us you were by yourself?” Dean asked. His voice was softer than Oscar was used to. The familiar gruff cadence was so quiet it almost didn’t rumble at all. Oscar glanced up sheepishly and found Dean watching him with concern.

He shrugged helplessly. “I dunno,” he said. “It didn’t seem important, I guess…”

“You shouldn’t have to be alone,” Sam said, his own expression full of concern. Their solemn looks flustered Oscar more and more by the second.

“B-but I do,” he said, shrugging again. “What else am I s’posed to do?”

Sam and Dean shared a long look and Oscar wrung his hands. He never had picked up the knack for reading either of them. They were enigmatic, no matter how much trust he’d placed in them, and when they wanted to hide what they were thinking, they could.

“If you want,” Sam began, turning back to Oscar with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, “we could get you to a place where you don’t have to be by yourself. Somewhere we could visit you more often and everything, and you’d even have more access to food.”

“Someplace safe, Oz. You deserve it after all that time,” Dean added. One hand approached and nudged gently at his shoulder. Just a gentle touch, and the hand retreated.

Oscar glanced around, wondering if they were playing a joke of some kind. Leaving the only place he’d ever known to live somewhere else? He’d never had a thought like that. It had never been a possibility before. “Um. Where is it? Is it far?”

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February 5th excerpt:

“Havin’ fun with that book?” Dean snarked as he got back into the car to pull it around to their room.

Sam rolled his eyes. “The more we know, the better off we are.” He didn’t look at Dean, but he already knew… “Did you get her number?”

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February 4th excerpt:

Once Stan got a feel for the pitch and sway of Sam’s gait, he reached down and plucked a small, slightly sticky lump that he recognized the smell of more than anything. His stomach gave an excited grumble at the reminder of the crumb of soft granola he’d been offered earlier and couldn’t finish. Mouth watering, Stan took a big munch out of the granola lump. Never in his life had there ever been food readily on hand, and the entire idea excited Stan deeply.

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January 23rd excerpt:

Sam didn’t notice at first that Stan had vanished from the top of the pocket, so intrigued by the story in the book was he. It wasn’t until he’d reached well over halfway that he glanced down to find Stan gone.

Concerned, Sam nudged open the flap of his pocket to see inside, spotting Stan in his ragged clothing curled up inside, fast asleep. The amount of trust invested in them by the little guy hit Sam all at once. Stan had no control over what happened to him, yet he was slumbering peacefully away, his face relaxed.

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January 21st excerpt:

Sam hummed thoughtfully as he tore the wrapper in half, breaking off a small piece of the granola bar to hold up for Stan.

Seeing the offered food, Stan reached out to take it from the massive fingers belonging to Sam. His armpits over the edge of the pocket held him in place as he nibbled, grateful for the snack as it seemed that they wouldn’t be stopping for a while. If there was one thing Stan knew, it was when a long car ride was imminent.

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January 20th excerpt:

“Can I go back down now?” With the book tucked away and Sam dealing with the others, planning to meet back up with Dean in five minutes, Stan figured he ought to be hidden in the pocket once again. However, he didn’t want to just drop out if Sam expected to continue the conversation at all.

“Uh, sure,” Sam said, distracted and vaguely surprised by the question. “You don’t need to ask.”

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Motel Sprites: Part 6

( Start from here! )

“Dean!” Sam called out, diving to grab the hook anchored to the top of the table. With all the movement going on, all he could see was the hook slipping from where it rested in a crack in the worn wood grain.

With one tiny person swinging on a thread and brandishing a knife at him and another one appearing on the table and diving towards the edge, Jacob balked. His hands remained under the one who was climbing, but only just, as he focused for a moment on the other. Tiny hands, perfect imitations of the much larger hands of a human, gripped the little fish hook so it wouldn’t lose its purchase on the edge of the table. A fish hook.

“No way,” Jacob muttered, watching the little person for a moment before turning his gaze back to the other one. This guy had a glare on his face that couldn’t be mistaken no matter how small it was.

The little knife glinted in the light as the man swung back and forth on his thread, and Jacob realized they didn’t look much like the sprites he knew. Aside from the climbing, they both had bags hanging on their shoulders, and their jackets looked closer to human design than wood sprite. He did a double take between them, lingering on the hook to make sure the little guy on the table wasn’t about to drop it or go tipping over the side.

Finally, Jacob tilted his head to get a better look at the one who determinedly held a knife out while clinging to the thread with only one hand. That by itself took the kind of strength that most wood sprites simply didn’t have. Jacob eyed the little hand, but then noticed the texture of the jacket the little guy wore.

“Is that leather? ” he asked, one hand moving up from where it hovered a few inches under the little guy. He kept it out of range of the tiny knife, like he was guarding a candle. When he thought he had an opening, he brushed a fingertip over the back of the jacket before backing off again. He didn’t want to upset his balance.

Jacob was baffled and fascinated all at once. “Well, you’re not wood sprites, that’s for sure.”

“What are you–” Dean didn’t know what to react to first. He swung his arm defensively backwards, where he’d felt a large finger graze his jacket. “Do I look like Tinkerbell?!”

The action of trying to strike at the offending hand sent his thread swinging in a new direction. Up above, Sam’s grip tightened on the hook as it threatened to slip from its spot. “Dean, stop moving!” he called down in warning. If the hook fell, Dean might not get hurt, but he would definitely get a one-way trip into the human’s hand. That… would end badly for one of them. Maybe Dean, maybe the human if his hand got sliced to ribbons by Dean’s silver knife.

Dean returned his hand to the thread to anchor himself, his boots pinching the thread for stability. He’d given up on any hope of progress while under such scrutiny. “Unless I’ve got a set of wings I never noticed, wrong friggin’ guess, Godzilla!” he snapped in annoyance.

Dean is just… in the worst place for an argument here XD

Let us know what you think is going to happen! More to come soon!

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January 19th excerpt:

Glancing surreptitiously around the corner of the library he’d squirreled himself away in, Sam flicked his wrist, snapping his knife into his hand. With a quick motion, he flipped it open and pried off the little plastic strip that would set off the alarms in the library, securing it to a book on fae he had placed to the side. When he left, a certain book would be coming with him, their best lead so far on Stan’s past. A children’s book.

Stan gave a small start as a knife suddenly appeared in Sam’s hand, with a blade longer than he was tall. That was the last thing he expected to happen, but he reminded himself that he was with hunters now. Though he didn’t know their ways just yet, Stan had a pretty good idea of their love of weapons. His glimpse into the trunk the night before had been proof enough of that.