November 26th excerpt:
Clearing his throat, John stepped closer to Sam, surprising himself as he held an upturned hand out to the younger Winchester.
“Come on. Can’t let them leave us behind again.” John smiled invitingly, hoping he wasn’t pressuring Sam into something he wasn’t ready for.
Timeline: Eighth day after being cursed
“You dislocated his shoulder!”
The shouts might as well have fallen on deaf ears for all the good they did. Dean glared out the bars of the cage he and Sam were trapped in, wanting nothing more than to sink his silver dagger into something.
Anything.
But no. They stayed stuck, with no way out and no way to find help. The woman whose rough handling had injured Sam casually thumbed through a magazine, waiting with her captives and ignoring them as though they didn’t exist.
Dean supposed he should be grateful they still even had their knives. After escaping that hexbag and finding their way to other humans, the brothers had tried to find help to reunite them with their father. Instead, they’d found capture. It had happened so fast that he never got a chance to draw his blade before he was tossed in a cage next to Sam.
Sam, who was out cold, one arm hanging unnaturally.
“Okay, Sammy,” Dean said, lowering his voice and trying to hide his desperation. “I’m gonna take care of this for you. Nice and easy, just like dad always says, right?”
Sam didn’t respond, his breathing ragged. Dean prayed the woman hadn’t hurt his brother when grabbing him from the ground. She was so big. There was no telling what kind of damage she could do to them.
Dean took hold of Sam’s arm and said a quick prayer under his breath. “One, two–“
Before saying “Three,” he quickly pulled, the arm shifting back into the socket. Sam shrieked, the ten year old’s body writhing in place as the arm took its rightful place. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, trying to comfort the younger child while glaring at the woman outside, tears clinging to his eyelashes.
In that moment, he made a promise to Sam.
One way or the other, they’d find a way out.
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She would dote on her miniature tenants to the max. Leaving out smaller treats for bitty hands, biscuits and sweets. John might have to get her to tone it down, but she definitely won’t hold back when the holidays roll around. She’s such a sweetheart, the bros certainly wouldn’t go hungry or needy with her around.
And she certainly wouldn’t hesitate to scold Sherlock if she finds out he’s been rude.
AU: Brothers Apart
Timeline: Directly after A Lich of Sense
Sam grinned broadly as he found the perfect spot to sit.
Dangling his legs off the edge, Sam patiently waited for Dean to reappear. Dean was off searching for signs of a spirit while Sam checked the walls for a hexbag, their usual routine on the job. With the family gone, they didn’t even have to worry about anyone spotting Sam, a bonus.
It wasn’t long before the rhythmic footsteps could be felt echoing up the solid supports of the bookshelf. Dean entered the study, his EMF meter slowly panning from side to side.
“Hey!” Sam called out, smugly settled in his spot, above Dean’s head. He estimated about a good half foot between him and the spike of dirty blond hair that Dean was so proud of.
Dean looked up, his eyebrows climbing his face as he saw how high Sam was.
“What you doing up there?” he asked gruffly, jabbing the EMF meter in Sam’s direction. The buzzer blipped for a moment, then went back down to zero.
Sam shrugged and hooked his hands together behind his head. “Taking it all in,” he said.
Dean cocked his head to the side, confusion on his face.
Sam took pity. “Y’know, looking down at you. Just like I’m supposed to.”
Ever since the Spirit dream with Bowman, the brothers’ had discovered that Sam’s true height outstripped Dean’s by several inches. The younger brother might look smaller than Dean because of his curse, but he was, in fact, the tallest in the family.
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. “Look who’s talkin,’ shorty,” he snarked back, holding a hand up for Sam to step into.
Sam did, casually sauntering to the center of Dean’s palm.
“Hey, can’t let you forget it.”
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November 23rd excerpt:
Sam leaned over the bottlecap again to avoid looking at Sherlock, unable to completely hide that the detective continued to unnerve him compared to John. He tilted his cup so the drop of dark coffee splashed into the milky brown color. Dean made a face at him as he pulled over the cube of sugar, contemplating just how much to add to the bitter liquid.
“Now you’re just ruining it,” Dean complained as Sam tipped the entire cube into the cap.
Timeline: Right after moving into 221B Baker Street
“Look out!”
Dean shoved Sam out of the way, his younger brother stumbling backwards from the unexpected danger. Moira yelped, grabbing Sam’s arm to haul him back, leaving Dean to face the threat on his own.
A cat.
Dean didn’t budge an inch, his silver knife in hand as he faced down the cat to give Sam and Moira time to escape. This was supposed to be a quick trip to grab some supplies, stock up Sam and Dean’s new home a few flats away from Moira’s family. They’d only had enough extra food for one meal, and having Moira’s help was welcome.
Of course, no one ever consulted them when getting a new pet, and not knowing that a cat now lived in the flat Moira’s family called home meant that they’d stumbled right into it.
“Mrow?”
It wasn’t quite the hiss of anger Dean had expected to hear before the deadly paw descended on him. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He squinted his eyes open just as he realized he’d closed them as he prepared for the inevitable.
The cat still sat in the same spot, its tail swishing from side to side. Now that the element of surprise was gone, Dean could see it was only a kitten, nose twitching as it looked over the three tiny people it had cornered. Its head moved closer and Dean stiffened, expecting at any second to feel the crushing fangs close around his chest.
Instead, a wet nose pressed into Dean’s side. He jolted away in surprise, almost flailing off balance. The kitten blinked at him, then mrowwed again.
Stalemate.
Sam and Moira, standing against the wall, stared at the odd scene. Slowly, it all began to sink into Sam, and he snickered.
Dean sent him a wounded look over his shoulder.
“It wants you to pet it!” Sam called, almost doubling over with laughter.
Dean tore his gaze from Sam and looked back at the kitten just as a headbutt from the animal knocked him from his feet. He went sprawling, rolling a few times until he landed at Sam and Moira’s feet, staring up at them in a daze.
Moira joined Sam in laughing as they hauled Dean to his feet. “Go on!” she said, shoving him towards the kitten. “Pet her!”
Dean reached up a hesitant hand as the kitten cocked her head at him, ear flicking the moment his hand brushed against the fur. He scratched behind the ear like it was the most important task he’d ever performed, considering that if she wanted to, the kitten could turn the three of them into her playthings.
Nothing like that happened, aside from a rumbling purr from deep in the cat’s chest. She stretched out her front legs, each toe extending as she flopped down at Dean’s feet and looked up at him.
“I think you have a new best friend,” Sam said in a laughing attempt at a hush as he slipped past Dean, leading Moira towards the wall entrance they’d left behind.
“You’re not so bad, are ya?” Dean mused as he rubbed behind the ear again, thinking everything was going to work out fine.
Just as Sam and Moira made it to the wall, it happened.
“Ah– CHOO!”
Dean’s sneeze was so violent he was knocked off his feet, landing on his butt an inch away from a curious ear flick. The kitten picked up her head, nosing worriedly at Dean when the scritches didn’t resume. He barely noticed the large wet spot left on his leather jacket this time, too concerned with holding back another sneeze.
“ACHOO!”
Sam had to come back to grab Dean with Moira safely in the walls, hauling his older brother up and giving him a shove at the entrance while distracting the kitten with a scritch. Sam, who didn’t have any allergies to cats, did much better than his older brother, and escaped the moment the kitten’s eyes fluttered shut.
They parted ways with Moira at the fork in the path, her returning to her home with her parents while Sam propelled Dean towards their new home in the hopes that dunking his head in water might help the sneezes.
Otherwise, they might lose their ninja titles.
All through the walls, Dean sneezed.
Passing a kitchen with wonderful aromas wafting through the walls. “Ah-choo!”
Hearing a toilet flush. “Ah– ACHOO!”
Sam let out a sigh as they finally got home, hurrying to their water supplies while Dean morosely picked at a long, ginger-colored hair that clung to him even after leaving the kitten behind.
“Ah– CHOO! ”
The humans living in the flat were usually more observant than most. They were also quite busy and happened to be lost in their own worlds.
Sherlock Holmes was wrapped up in an experiment, subjecting disembodied fingers– specifically the fingernails– to the flame of a blowtorch at gradually lengthened intervals. It was a relatively quiet experiment, but the smell of it had John Watson slamming the sliding kitchen doors shut to keep the odor out of the main room.
John sat at the small table against the wall in the middle of the living room, typing away at his blog. Sherlock’s most recent case had been a convoluted one, and he wanted to be sure to get the details right. Or at least to a point where they made sense to the layman.
A muffled sneeze briefly broke his concentration.
“Gesundheit,” John muttered, under the assumption that the fingernail-fumes were finally starting to get to Sherlock. For his part, the detective hadn’t even heard the small noise from the kitchen, and so he and the doctor remained blissfully ignorant of the smaller residents of 221B Baker Street as the brothers stared at each other in shock, the human’s response to Dean’s sneeze completely unexpected.
Before Dean could sneeze again, Sam dunked his head into the cap of water. Dean resurfaced, gasping and wiping at his eyes before burying his head in the nest of fabric he called a bed. A muffled sneeze could be heard as Dean slumped in place.
“No more cats,” Sam said grimly, wondering at their close call with Sherlock and John.
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November 22nd excerpt:
Dean wrinkled his nose. “The only way to drink coffee is black,” he declared, remembering the times he’d made coffee for his dad while he was growing up. Or ordered it at a coffee shop. There was nothing like the bitter flavor of the black brew to wake someone up.
Sam glanced between Dean and John, realizing he didn’t have an answer for them. “Sugar…?” he said, more question than answer.
“Yeah, sure,” John chuckled at Dean’s unexpectedly strong opinions about coffee. He supposed it made sense, he was a few years older than Sam. Plenty of opportunity to garner a taste for the stuff.
“Hey wait, I’ve seen that before.” Jacob registered, reaching into his pocket again to get his phone to show the nearly 4 inch tall men the photos of Ed’s severed limbs. Damn, thats a sentence he never thought would be applicable to his life.
(I really need to work on it, but stress has taken so much of my inspiration away.)
Oh dear, boop the cuties.
That really depends on the little in question. For instance, Bree isn’t going to mind one bit. She’s used to contact with humans, and considers it completely normal. Oscar, on the other hand, has never really had close contact with humans and is always baffled when Dean insists on messing with his mousy hair.
Dean as a little will be completely offended that someone is messing with his spike, while Sam is resigned, considering how often Dean fluffs it into a mess. Dean’s way of saying you should really cut this.
Artwork by @mogadeer
Timeline: Within the first month of Sam’s curse
“Whoa!”
Sam threw out his arms, but he was too late to catch his balance after the table shook.
John and Bobby didn’t notice, too caught up in their argument about chasing down the witch again, and the tiny ten year old tipped backwards from the table, his footing lost.
The freefall only lasted seconds.
Dean shouted in surprise, the powerful sound echoing around Sam’s delicate ears. The teenager launched himself, hitting the ground and sliding under Sam’s falling body to catch him between two gentle hands.
Sam hit the plush ground with an uff, and he rolled to his stomach, briefly freezing up as the hands closed around him.
This only lasted the moments it took Dean to stand back up, cradling his little brother like he was the most precious gem in the world and glaring at Bobby and John, who’d stopped their argument the moment Dean had thrown himself into the air.
“We’re going out,” Dean announced angrily, stalking from the room with his little brother and ignoring the protests behind him.
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Brothers Apart 