December 30th excerpt:

Sam nearly dropped the journal when Dean shoved the hand holding Stan at him, hurriedly pocketing the book to be able to cup his hands. There was no time to worry about the droplets of blood staining the side of his fingers, something he normally didn’t worry about until they finished the hunt. “Dean!” Sam hissed, frantic about how quick his brother was moving with the little guy.

“Don’t worry, he’s fine! ” Dean insisted, tilting his hands into a slight incline to slide Stan into Sam’s hands. “Right, kid?”

December 29th excerpt:

“See?” Sam shot up at Dean. “Not a leprechaun.”

Dean rolled his eyes yet again. “Like it’s a hard mistake to make. You have to admit he fits the profile.”

“Minus the magic.” Sam took the knife back, tucking it into the sheath in his jacket. “I doubt he’d sit quietly in your jacket for thirty minutes if he had spells he could sling at us.”

December 28th excerpt:

Stan’s tiny green eyes flicked back up to Sam, only to drop shyly back down. It was startling to look up and suddenly find himself face to face with a toothy grin wider than he was tall. And while he was mostly sure that he didn’t have to worry about anything from it, the hunters had given him nothing to say for sure that he didn’t.

Either way, the sight of those large teeth did little more than make Stan cringe. His bones were so thin compared to the humans’ fingers, and it was hard for Stan to banish the image of how easily he could snap in half between those incisors.

December 27th excerpt:

“S… S-Stan,” he replied, gaze lowering a bit as he internally chastised himself for being too quiet, stammering too much. He didn’t know these humans well enough to tell if they would mind.

“Well Stan,” Sam said, his face blossoming into a smile to help reassure the kid Dean was holding, “it’s good to meet you.” Despite everything, he was completely sincere, a distinctly different countenance compared to Dean.

How does Sam’s knack works around blind humans?

It’ll work the same!

It’s a psychic knack, so it’s not tied to anything physical going on. If someone senses he’s there, whether they see him or not, he’s going to know. This includes a blind or normal human hearing him close by. It’s a very handy ability to have when he’s avoiding notice!

(Sorry for how long it’s taking to answer these, life has been tough this month)

December 26th excerpt:

Dropping to his knees, Sam had eyes only for Stan. He missed the way Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes above them, his hand wavering slightly under Stan in his distraction. A movement that Sam missed, so slight that it was barely perceptible for the human hunter.

“Hey there,” Sam said, his voice hushed so it was nearly a whisper. He flared his fingers open into a small wave. “My name’s Sam. That’s my brother Dean. What’s your name?” His voice remained level and even, doing what he could to lessen any intimidation to the smaller man. After being left in Dean’s pocket for so long, Sam doubted the guy would be thinking completely straight.

December 25th excerpt:

“That’s right, I almost forgot,” Dean murmured in surprise, drawing Sam’s eyes right to him, distracted from watching the fire slowly die down. He went to reach for the pocket, shifting his weight to make it easier for his hand to slip in.

Sneak Peek

The story continues for the Consulted crew in A Day of Duality!


Sam shifted in place as John stopped, blinking at the world around him. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asked blearily, pulled out of a daydream he’d fallen into during the walk.

Then Sam heard it too. A faint cry in the air, something easily overlooked. His ears pricked up, and he paid close attention to the back of his neck, alert for anyone other than John around the alley. “Sounds like someone’s hurt,” Sam said, glancing around. That didn’t sound like the call of an injured animal, and out in London that was less likely to happen.

“Yeah,” John agreed, stepping gingerly into the alley. For a voice to be that soft, one of two things had to be true. On the one hand, it could be an injured human in the far distance, in which case John would have to be incredibly careful with Sam.

No one would speak of it, but since Sam’s kidnapping all those weeks ago there was an enhanced sense of responsibility between John and Sherlock to protect their friends. There was a much greater risk to anything that ran the chance of Sam or Dean being seen. Other humans were always a wild card, especially strangers.

Then again, on the other hand, the voice could seem distant because the person it belonged to was a borrower, closer to Sam and Dean’s size.

John didn’t know which he dreaded more. Even so, something in him wouldn’t let him turn his back on someone who needed help.

Sam was attentive as John went, his ears tuned to the voice they’d heard on the wind. There was no sense that they were being watched, no feeling of eyes on him, so he frowned, wondering who could have called for help.

“Do you think–” Sam started, then cut himself off.

Down on the ground of the alley, he’d caught sight of motion against the ground. Just a flicker, but there.

Sam might have passed it off as a mouse hiding from John if he hadn’t spotted color.

Nudging John in the neck, Sam motioned at the ground. “Watch it, I think someone’s here.”