The Climbing Bet

BA Canon: Yes

Timeline: After The Golden Touch


Dean snorted. “No way.”

Sam glared up at him. “Seriously? You doubt me? After I saved your sorry ass from being a statue.” He shook his head mournfully with a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at the bookshelf. “Sure, but you climbed a tree back there. I’m betting there’s a few more handholds on a tree than a shelf. The thing’s pretty much a cliff.”

Sam jabbed his hook at Dean. “If I can climb it, I get control over the television for a week.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Deal.” He stuck a hand out.

Sam grinned confidently as he let Dean cautiously shake his much smaller arm between two fingers. “You’ll be eating your words,” he shot back at his big brother as the older hunter stood and stepped back.

“Better put your money where your mouth is, pint-size,” Dean said as he leaned against the wall. Standing, he was just as tall as the shelves he’d challenged Sam to climb. “Or I’ll be in charge of the TV for the week.”

Sam uncoiled his fishing line, the clear rope ready in his hands. He ignored the looming shadow of the older Winchester, knowing Dean wouldn’t interfere unless Sam slipped. For once, he actually had a safety net as he climbed. Normally, he was on his own when he tried foolhardy stunts like this. Walt would always lecture him, but he’d always do it again. He was one of the best climbers around, after all.

The first shelf was easy. An easy toss got the hook snagged on a vase. Sam tugged on the line, judging how solid the catch was. Only when he was certain that it wouldn’t shake free did he start climbing up.

The line he used was smooth, hard to climb directly up most days. After years of practice, his hands were becoming as callused as Dean’s, but for completely different reasons. The calluses gave him a better grip on his line, letting him haul his body up with nothing more than his hands.

He clambered up the first shelf, eyeing up his surroundings. Beyond the vase and a discarded Bible, he could see Dean’s knees, the thick legs crossed while he leaned against the wall. Sam couldn’t help a smile at the thought of using Dean to climb the rest of the way up, but pushed that thought away. Besides being an easy out, Dean would probably declare that ‘cheating.’

Sam flicked his line, releasing the hook from its snug fit. He held it at the ready, staring up at the shelf above. This time, the game would be interesting. The shelves were all even, so there was no way for him to reach the next one up without leaning out into the open air.

A careful examination of his surroundings revealed a bracket above, used to set the shelves into the wall. There were holes interspaced on the brackets, and one of them might be just far enough out for him to be able to use it to climb up. With a rush of confidence, Sam tossed his hook at the bracket.

And missed.

He growled as he pulled the line back. Dean leaned down with a smirk. “Need a hand?” he goaded Sam.

Sam ignored him, trying the shot again. At least in this case, there was no hurry, and no danger from the human nearby. No danger past the teasing and jokes, at least.

The second toss did it. He tugged on the line, then began climbing again. This time, his line didn’t make it all the way to the shelf, but he was able to grip the metal bracket, scaling up the last few inches. He unhooked his fishhook on the way, attaching it to the pocket Walt had made for a time just like this.

The grin wouldn’t leave his face after that level. The end of a blanket draped down from the shelf above, so he didn’t even need to get his hook back out to get to the third shelf, putting him at chest height for Dean and one shelf away from his goal. He caught his hook on the bracket on his first toss. Barely two minutes later, and he hauled himself up to the top, swaggering over to Dean’s surprised face with a knowing grin.

“So,” Sam smirked. “Who’s up for some Star Wars this week?”


Submissions Open!

Dean without Sam is a much harder person to have around. There’s no soft edges to him, no room for compromise. Dean without Sam is far more dangerous, not in a good way. Losing his brother took a lot more out of him than anyone could have predicted. Finding Sam again in the story is why he’s the man he is. Sam got lucky when he saw the amulet. He wouldn’t have even been able to bring himself to scold Dean the way Walt did, freeing his arm.

If Sam’s going to show up, he’ll have to be fast… only two more parts. What will happen to Walt?

Cursed Dean 4

Dean slammed into the ground, rolling over as fast as he could. The second he could find his feet, he was up and backing away from the huge human staring down at him, awe in those familiar hazel eyes.

“Whoa…” said the other man, amazement just oozing from his voice.

Dean took a few more wary steps back as the human leaned down to see him better. The huge brow furrowed above as his outright fear was noticed.

“It’s okay,” said the other man, his voice a quiet rumble of reassurance. “I’m not gonna hurtcha.”

Dean tensed, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he spat angrily. “You just grabbed me, after all.”

The other man smirked at that, sending chills up Dean’s spine at the casual disregard for his anger. “I’m not the one that’s out here spying on people,” the man with the hazel eyes pointed out. “All I did was catch the person sneaking around near my room. So don’t go thinking you’re innocent in all of this.”

Dean stiffened at the accusation. He knew it was true, the way humans thought. But he wasn’t a human, not anymore, and he needed to ascertain the danger the massive man posed his family.

That was the last thing he’d ever admit, though. He couldn’t reveal the existence of any others like him, he might put them in danger.

He almost leaped away as a massive hand came at him again, but to his shock, this time it didn’t grab at him. His jacket was lying draped across fingers that were longer than he was tall, held out for him to take back.

He stared up at the man suspiciously, refusing to take the bait and get himself in any more trouble. His hands clenched into angry fists.

The other man sighed. “I really won’t hurt you if you’re not hurting anyone else, y’know. I’m a hunter, but I don’t think someone the length of my pinkie really applies.”

Dean almost snarled at the way he’d been put down as non-threatening, but he held his tongue. He stomped over to the hand, snatching up the black jacket and tossing it back over his arms. He was never self-conscious about his body, but the sight of how thin his carefully trained, muscular body was compared to just a finger was not a sight he wanted to see. With the jacket on – and his knife tucked back against his chest, ready to be wielded if he needed it – he felt more prepared for the situation he’d fallen into.

The other man put his hand on the table once it was empty, keeping it close enough to Dean that any escape attempts would be fruitless until his guard was dropped. Dean knew what hunters were. He was supposed to be one, after all. He needed to be careful how he approached this situation, otherwise he might end up dead as an assumed threat.

The hazel eyes narrowed, scanning Dean head to toe. Dean stiffened at the scrutiny, hating the way he was being sized up.

He didn’t find out what the man thought of what he saw. Any chance he had of focusing on his precarious situation was brought to a screeching halt by the next word’s out of the man’s mouth.

“So, what’s your name? I’m Sam.”


Original Ask || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (here)