March 28th excerpt:
Dean pushed himself back from John with his free hand, trying to inch backwards from the man and put some space between them. That is, until he ran up against the hand cupped behind and flinched away again.
“We don’t want your help,” Dean protested, clinging to Sam. “People can’t be trusted, what makes you any different?”
March 27th excerpt:
Dean was incensed past any rational anger, heating his face up as he turned it on his only target. “Why do you even care?!” he shouted up at John. “It’s not like it matters where we’re from!”
March 25th excerpt:
Flipping the cards back into one pile, Dean held them close to his hand so Stan could get a better look. “With these, we can get into what we need, and they don’t find out who we are, so they can’t arrest us. It’s really a win-win situation, whatever the cops say. We don’t get our asses in jail, they get the monsters they don’t believe in killed off.”
“Ohh, okay,” Stan nodded in understanding. Humans were huge and couldn’t be quite that stealthy. Even Stan couldn’t on his own, his lack of training and red hair a dead giveaway without a spell hiding him.
“So, it’s like a glamour spell, but without the magic,” Stan inferred aloud, managing to put it in a way that made it relatable to his experience.
March 24th excerpt:
After a moment of thought, Dean reached up and tapped the back of his neck close to Stan. “If someone sees you or you need me for anything, just give me a punch,” he advised. “I can find a corner to talk.”
Stan blinked at the finger above his head, wide-eyed at the notion of hitting Dean. He’d never ever struck a human for any reason, and could hardly believe he was being asked to. He didn’t even know if the human would feel it if he tried.
March 22nd excerpt:
Holding his breath, Sam had to peek behind his seat to see where it had run, and his eyes widened.
No mouse had ever worn clothing or reached out with tiny hands to grab at forgotten candy on the floor.
Sam scrambled to his feet. “W-wait!” he called out.
March 21st excerpt:
The human’s foot tapped against the floor absently, and high above him the underside of the table echoed with the scratching of a pencil. Oscar swallowed dryly and steeled his nerves. The human was busy. He couldn’t see him and he wouldn’t hear him walking on the carpet fibers. This wasn’t even the first time he’d snuck under the table like this.
The vibration in the floor from the tapping foot was a drumbeat for his nerves. Oscar snatched up a discarded piece of granola, easily half the size of his head. Some days, that was enough for his one meal of the day.
March 19th excerpt:
John didn’t want the brothers near this werewolf, as it was prone to stalking playgrounds and school houses in Silverthorne. A good name for a werewolf’s funeral, Dean had managed to get in before their father left them behind.
He was still convinced it was a good joke, even if John didn’t laugh. Their dad almost never laughed.
“I’m heading out,” Dean called to Sam, pushing the blinds open so he could peek through the window.
March 18th excerpt:
The giant covers to the side rustled as he stretched, eyes blearily opening, then shutting tight at the brilliance that filled the room. “Dean?” Sam mumbled, burying his head into a pillow. “Whatcha…” He yawned halfway through. “Doin?’ ”
Even waking Sam up couldn’t bring Dean down from cloud nine with his recent triumph. “I,” he started off, shamelessly bragging, “have figured out how we can spar without worrying about my height.”
First time and you got it! The name is officially Any Port in a Storm, and these brothers certainly need a port to huddle in, considering the circumstances John finds them in!
When the snow started to come down, he knew they were really in trouble.
Dean glanced to the side, his gaze softening. Sam was slumped against his side, exhausted and weary. They had run for most of the day, leaving the younger kid drained and unable to keep up with his older brother for long. Dean had tried giving Sam a piggyback for a bit, but he tired as well within the hour.
We’ll just stop for a bit… get your energy back up and then we’ll find someplace safe and warm, okay?
There wasn’t much choice for them to stop. Sam couldn’t keep up, Dean couldn’t carry him, and he’d never leave his little brother behind. He’d found a bit of cover against a wall, staring at the deserted street beyond.
Occasionally, they’d pass by, and Dean could only hope that no one noticed the pair of tiny children seeking refuge.
Their escape, it seemed, came with a cost, and he didn’t know if they could last the night.
March 9th excerpt:
When a finger bigger than either brothers head brushed over Dean, melting some of the snow instantly on contact and knocking a few other flakes free from his flattened spike of hair, he jerked back on instinct, and dragged Sam along with him as he cringed from the hand that could scoop them both into a fist in seconds. Sam was limp, offering no resistance to Dean’s motion.
John sucked in a startled breath, jerking his hand back for a second. Before he could think about it, his hand shot back out and curled behind the moving figure’s back. His hand didn’t close, simply formed a barrier of warmth for the kid. They looked so small against his palm, and he took half a second to process the fact that they didn’t just look like tiny kids, they were real.
Brothers Apart 