February 13th excerpt:
Logan tromped to the center of the clearing so he could get a good view of the sky. “I’ll get a fire going,” he determined, glancing back to Dean, standing there with a duffel bag full of weapons and a sprite in a jar, casual as could be. What the hell?
February 12th excerpt:
I am in so much trouble.
The despairing thought rang through the many panicked fragments in Bowman’s mind. On either side and overhead, his view was blocked by the pattern of the shirt that Dean wore. With the jar tucked under an arm, Bowman didn’t have a chance to really see where they were taking him. Fate had given him an extra dose of the unfair by making sure the giants’ arms were thicker around than he was tall.
Thanks to the tilt, the bottom of the jar was behind him and the curved wall beneath. Bowman could see the forest floor, and the effect that Dean’s boots had on it. Those boots had to be the size of a small house.
With his hands braced on the glass, Bowman felt like the world was so close, just beyond his reach. He was captured and he didn’t know what would happen to him. He couldn’t even warn the village of the threat wandering the woods.
February 11th excerpt:
“Still not trying to hurt you, small fry!”
February 10th excerpt:
He tried to writhe free, panic creeping through his veins. That glass container loomed in his vision like a gaping mouth, and his resolve almost faltered. He couldn’t even attempt to bite Dean again to get away. There was nothing to do but watch the thing get closer to him, an inevitable shift in Dean’s grip as he prepared to trap Bowman with ease.
Those knives glinted and the glass glittered and Bowman’s adrenaline had nowhere to go.
“S-stop it! I told you I didn’t–” he insisted, before the grip loosened around him and the words seized in his chest.
February 9th excerpt:
“Dude, will you chill? ” rumbled up out of Dean’s chest, bringing a smile to Sam’s face. Good old Dean. They could always count on him.
February 8th excerpt:
Bowman scoffed and squirmed again. He didn’t have time for something like this. Not when Logan looked completely skeptical of the conversation, too. Bowman was the only one on his own side, and he had to focus on getting away. He couldn’t give them time to decide they wanted to hurt him.
He almost spat out another scathing remark, but in his struggles he spotted movement on Dean’s chest. He blinked, but could have sworn he saw a couple pairs of eyes, normal sized ones, peering out of a pocket at him. The notion threw him off and he froze.
February 7th excerpt:
“Vicious little thing,” the other giant pointed out with a scoff. Bowman opened his eyes to glance at him and quivered again. He couldn’t decide if that giant’s accusing glare or his captor’s complete fascination was more unsettling.
“L-let go, you wingless pile of snakeskin!” he managed to force out, putting his considerable reserves of defiance into his voice.
February 6th excerpt:
The pain that sliced through Dean’s hand was unexpected. “Sonova–!”
Instead of letting the sprite go like he might have done before, Dean cut off his cuss and brought up his free hand, releasing the sprite into the new hand and this time expertly winding his fingers around the tiny body to keep him from attacking again. Dean’s thumb came up beneath the little chin, preventing any bites.
“Chill, nibbler,” he groused. “No one’s hurting you.”
February 5th excerpt:
The out of place leaf fluttered to life of its own accord. Before the shape attached to it could dart away and out of range of the grab, Dean’s hand closed around it. A cry of terror yelped out of the small figure as leafy green wings were forced closed and confined along with the rest of its body.
Thanks to his experience with Sam and Jacob, Dean’s grab didn’t crush the little guy, but it would be hard to tell just from his reaction. He struggled valiantly, tiny legs kicking futilely in the closed fist while he tried to free his arms. He was a lot thinner and frailer than Dean’s hardy little brothers, a little wisp of a guy. Bright green eyes stared around without seeing as Logan rushed up next to Dean to see his catch.
February 4th except:
“You’re no ranger,” the stranger called out, keeping plenty of distance between them while they still figured out what was going on. “What brings you this far into the woods?”
Dean planted his boots in place, crossing his arms over his chest and careful to stay clear of the pocket Sam and Jacob were in. Slight movement from the pocket vied for his attention, but he forced it to the back of his mind. His colt was tucked into his pants, hidden out of sight unlike the other man’s gun.
“Last I checked, rangers don’t come back here,” Dean said. “Private property and all that.” He shifted position, pulling an ID out of his jacket. “Name’s Dean Ford,” he said confidently, holding it out for the other man to take. “I’m here to investigate the strange rumors floating around.”
Brothers Apart 