Tag: sam winchester

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Jacob camps a lot, and is for the most part a more outdoorsy type than Dean is, so he’s more likely to tan (in addition to being Mediterranean, which helps his chances in the sun). Dean spends most of his days holed up in a room researching, with a good amount of his waking hours at night hunting spirits. He will burn quick before he tans if he’s not expecting it.

Sam will never let Dean hear the end of it, but he better keep out of the sun himself. All those years in the motel left him even paler than Dean, so he’ll burn faster.

Bowman would be very critical of all of this. People burning just from spending time in the life-giving sun?! It’s such a weird idea. Even knowing that sprites can get themselves dried out and overheated, he will be baffled. Of course, the shedding will have him wondering if they’re sick and need some kind of medicine. Dean would get such a Look for all of this.

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July 19th excerpt:

“We both will,” came a deeper voice, and Sam gave a start, looking up to find just the corner of Dean’s eye looking towards them. It was difficult for Dean to interact with them on his shoulder, but not impossible.

Dean smirked at Sam’s surprise. “Do you really think I can’t hear you there, pint-size?” He shook his head mournfully, a joke sparkling in his eye. “I thought you knew better.”

Sam huffed with frustration, and Walt had to stifle a chuckle at his expense.

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July 18th excerpt:

Dean growled. “Sam’s not facing them without me,” he said darkly, unconsciously putting his hand back down next to Sam and Walt. Almost protectively, despite his disagreement with Sam. Nothing had changed between them. “Where he goes, I go.”

Rufus smiled. “Then I think we have a plan.” He clapped his hands together and leaned forward. “Now refresh my memory. Where’s the grub in this place?”

Bobby sighed.

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July 17th excerpt:

Dean, it seemed, was on the same track. “No,” he growled, the power of that growl reverberating through his throat and straight through Walt and Sam. “I don’t like it, it’s not happening.”

Sam sighed loud enough to be heard throughout the room, no small feat for someone under the size of a hand. “Dean. Table, now.”

The reluctance from Dean was almost tangible in the air, a thick feeling that permeated the room. Yet he shifted, resting the arm that was attached to the shoulder Sam and Walt were sitting on so it lay on the table.

Sam wasted no time scaling down to the table. “Dean, this isn’t your choice. We’ve been over this, remember? I’m the one who gets to decide if the risk is worth it, and I’m willing to hear them out.”

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The way the curse itself works on the cursed children actually heightens their immune systems along with making them far stronger than an average human.

It’s extremely hard to get them sick with a common cold or the flu or even regular viruses. Not impossible, but as close to it as they can get. Their bodies fight off the infections long before they notice.

Getting drunk is far easier, and their own damn fault if they do it (smol Dean could use some lessons in portion control when it comes to drinking).

Of course, living most of their lives without getting common illnesses also leaves them incredibly unprepared if someone does get sick, the way Sam had no idea how to tend his older brother when Dean made the mistake of drinking until he got the worst hangover.

They’re much better at this now with some schooling from Jacob.

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July 15th excerpt:

A distant “Come in!” made its way to where they stood, and Sam and Dean both frowned in unison, a silent look passing between them.

“What is it?” Walt asked warily, disliking the way the air filled with tension.

“Might be nothing,” Dean muttered, his voice staying low for them.

“Might be something,” Sam interjected, one hand tight on Dean’s collar while the other rested against his brother’s neck.

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July 14th excerpt:

“Riiiight,” Walt said slowly, pulling away from Dean’s neck once they were clear. “I… don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“The crazy’s only just begun,” Dean muttered under his breath, and received an instant jab in the neck from Sam for his troubles.

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July 13th excerpt:

Lunch took half an hour, and Dean spent most of that time patiently scanning the world outside the Impala. He couldn’t stomach the thought of food, so he fiddled with the paper bag the sandwich had come from, hoping maybe Sam would think he’d eaten a second sandwich. Maybe he’d been too distracted to listen to Dean order, or–

“Really?”

Dean lost all hope of sliding this one past Sam when he heard the disapproving tone in the soft voice down on the seat. He turned his eyes down to where Sam was standing with his arms crossed, right next to the parted foil wrapper of the sandwich. Clearly, he knew Dean had never ordered more food. Not that Dean had held out much hope of slipping it by Sam. He never could.

With a wan smile, Dean gave it his best shot. “I just figured you might want seconds,” he said in a half-hearted protest, waving the food off.

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July 11th excerpt:

“You know he doesn’t mind, right?” Sam asked in a hush. “Really. I’ve sat here pretty much every day since I left.”

Walt couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to Dean’s again. Dean didn’t even twitch at Sam’s words. Maybe he really couldn’t hear them like this.

“It’s just…” Walt kept his voice just as soft as Sam. “You’re used to this. And him. How?”

Sam grinned and couldn’t stop a slight laugh at that. “We make our own normal, Dad. If I can’t ride shotgun like a regular human can, I’ll do it here.”

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You got it!

Giants might be real, but at least Bigfoot’s a Hoax!

All of these thoughts crowded Dean’s mind and he was absently shoving his phone back in his pocket when it happened.

Behind him, a massive spring responded to his presence. A steel door thicker than a wall slammed shut behind him, and Dean was surrounded by metal bars as thick as his arms.

Trapped, with a hungry giant missing in the forest. No way to reach Sam by cell, and no way to get out of the cage.

To be sure, Dean pulled on the thick bars that comprised the sides of the cage. They didn’t budge. The massive metal door of the cage could be used for warehouses, and no matter how he pushed, nothing happened. The damn thing must weigh a ton.

Dean slumped down with a frustrated sigh.

Seconds later, a sound came to him through the woods. The crashing sound of footsteps, like he’d been chasing only moments before. The leaves around him shook, and Dean knew that Jacob was coming.

And he was caught in a trap.

A trickle of sweat dripped down Dean’s neck. They only knew a little about the teenager. There was no way of knowing how Jacob would react to them after his dash from the cliff. Why had he run away? Was he afraid of what would happen if he was around two bite-sized people while he was so hungry?

The footsteps were hurried, rushed. Dean hesitantly got out his machete, prepared to fight for his life if it came down to it. Sam was on his own by the cliff, investigating Jacob’s belongings and campsite. If there was a fight, and Dean lost, Sam would have no warning that Jacob was dangerous. No way of even knowing that Jacob and Dean had run into each other out in the forest. For all Sam would know, Dean was still combing the trees in search of the giant.

Leaves rustled, and a huge hand came into view as a maple tree was pushed out of the way with a lingering creak. Hungry brown eyes fell onto Dean’s small form, and deep shadows covered Jacob’s face as another echoing growl came from his stomach.

Dean took a step back from Jacob, and felt his back press up against the thick metal wires of the cage. He was cornered. Holding the large knife defensively in front of his chest, he was prepared to go down fighting.

It was hard to forget that every single bit of lore they’d found on giants specifically called out the fact that they ate people. Jacob might be reasonable enough, but this hex or curse or whatever it was might change him when he was hungry, a lot like what a werewolf went through during the full moon. Without fresh hearts, werewolves would die, so their instincts compelled them to hunt humans, even people that they knew and respected in their normal life. Jacob had only met them that day, and most of their time had been spent tracking him down.

If he was operating by instinct, he might see them as a threat. Dean had emptied his clip into Jacob’s palm in an attempt to escape a grab.

Dean hadn’t missed the hunger that shone in Jacob’s eyes when he pushed aside that tree.

“Jacob,” Dean greeted, a strain in his voice. “We’re all friends here, right?”