Tag: supernatural

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September 18th excerpt:

Jacob stepped towards the desk, and his movements were heralded by creaking in the wood floors. When he knelt, his occupied hand moved closer to his chest to avoid sending Dean toppling, and then the other planted on the floor while he tilted his head to get a better angle on the cabinet. “What do ya think, Sam, worth checking out?”

Sam couldn’t quite hide a smile at that, turning the question right around on Jacob with expert practice from years of handling Dean. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell us?”

Jacob let out a quiet scoff of a laugh, caught off guard by the quick remark from Sam. Usually it was Dean throwing sass his way, though he couldn’t say he didn’t open himself up for it. He slid his hand along the floor and underneath the cabinet. His knuckles bumped against the bottom of the thing.

Calling John Bonham Final

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A short story of Brothers Apart

“At least they’re a better kind of hunter,” Bowman said dismissively. He didn’t notice the almost challenging edge to Dean’s voice, daring someone to disagree with his statement. Bowman wasn’t about to argue the point. Sam had helped save Wellwood just as much as Dean.

“Yeah,” Jacob muttered, while the rest of Bowman’s story caught up to him. A real nightmare had drifted into Wellwood and he hadn’t been around to help the sprites. After what they’d been through before, he couldn’t help but feel a protectiveness of his own for the tiny pacifist village.

“Listen, guys, I guess the rest of the story is true then, too, so I want to thank you two for helping out my friends. Bowman’s got some pretty great things to say about what you did for them.”

“That’s what we do,” Sam said, a proud grin on his face replacing his abashed demeanor. It meant the world to him to be able to join Dean in hunting. “Protecting Bowman’s village is just as important as… well, protecting my family from any dangers.”

“Besides,” Dean said with a chuckle, “how could we let Vel down? He did decide to adopt us as his older brothers. We’ve gotta watch out for the third Winchester. He’s gotta grow up and beat Bowman at flying with those little wings of his.”

Bowman grumbled something and flicked his wings. He couldn’t really protest too much since they were talking about a small nestling who was only just getting used to his wings, but still the challenge to his place as Wellwood’s fastest flyer rang loud and clear. With a flutter of leafy wings, he took flight as if to remind at least Jacob of his skill.

Jacob, meanwhile, smiled at the thought of one of the little sprites, ‘nestlings’ as they called them, adopting humans. There seemed to be an innocence to everything the sprites did, even Bowman as he swept past on his strong little wings.

“That’s awesome news, man. I’ll do my part, too, if I find out about anything going down out here I know who I can call.”

“We’ll be there,” Dean agreed. “Keep a close eye on them, okay? Evil tends to be attracted to vulnerable communities like that, especially with that Prayer thing they’ve got going on.”

Sam leaned forward on Dean’s other hand, bracing himself with a hand on the thumb that bordered the edge. His small fingers just barely stretched to where he felt Dean’s fingernail start, the rigid surface slick under his touch. “Bowman, tell Rischa we said ‘hi,’ okay?” he called out over the line. He wished he had a longer chance to talk to her. She was wise beyond her years, and able to see through even Dean’s thick walls, helping Sam understand his older brother a little better.

“Good luck keeping Bowman out of trouble,” Dean said with a smirk. “At least you might have a chance with the rest of the village.”

Jacob chuckled over Bowman’s indignant I heard that! and sent the sprite a smirk. “I’ll do my best with this guy,” he replied, thinking about the other warning. It was lucky he visited as often as he did, if things truly were as sinister as they said. It seemed like the sprites kept leading Jacob further down the rabbit hole.

“Hey, listen, sorry if I raised the alarm for a second there, I was just calling to see if Bowman’s story was real. I won’t keep you,” he continued. Somehow he got the feeling that a pair of brothers who hunted monsters didn’t do a lot of casual chatting on the phone.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said. “It sure got Sam to fall out of bed, didn’t it there, pint-size?”

Sam glared up at Dean, fully blaming him for the startling wake up. “Normal people don’t just stick a cell phone next to someone’s bed while they’re sleeping,” he groused right back. “Good to hear from you, Bowman, Jacob.” He slapped a hand against the END button so he could give Dean a proper tongue lashing without an audience.

States away at the other end of the disconnected call, Bowman was of the same mind as Sam. Jacob had barely pulled the phone away from his face before a flutter and a flash of green rushed right up to his face. A tiny fist impacted with his forehead, and then Bowman kicked off between Jacob’s eyes to dart away again. Jacob barely had time to wave a hand at him in surprise.

“That’s for not believing me!” Bowman scolded as he corkscrewed in the air.

Jacob rubbed at his forehead to get rid of the phantom feeling of a tiny bop. “Hey, I wasn’t that skeptical,” he pointed out. “I called them, didn’t I?”

Bowman huffed and crossed his arms, banking into a hover well above Jacob’s eye level. “Well you wouldn’t have needed to if you just believed me.”

“Fine, fine, you were right.”

Bowman flew in a circle over Jacob’s head, clearly pleased with the words. “Don’t soon forget it, giant.”

Calling John Bonham (4 of 5)

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A short story of Brothers Apart

On the other end, Jacob’s eyebrows shot up. He glanced over to Bowman, who wore the biggest, smuggest I told you so expression Jacob had ever seen on that tiny face. The name matched what he’d said, and the rest of his story most likely would fall into place more or less like he’d told it.

Bowman, meanwhile, could see Jacob working things out for himself in a brief pause. Sam’s voice was softer than Dean’s gruff greeting, and it was because he was smaller like a sprite, not because they had a bad connection like Jacob had first thought. That had to be the ‘sprite-sized’ brother.

Bowman drifted forward with his arms crossed. “I told you,” he said proudly, jolting Jacob out of his short pause.

“Uh, hi, Dean,” Jacob replied. “I got the number off a card my friend had. He said you guys worked with him a month or so ago,” he explained. Jacob felt so strange speaking cryptically like that, but the thought of talking plainly about the sprites when their society was so vulnerable made him nervous. Until he could be sure, he wouldn’t risk them. “You guys know Bowman?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot straight up, and even Sam focused on the phone more than his predicament. “Of course we do,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes with his own familiar suspicion. The sprites were just as vulnerable as Sam’s people. “He gave us some help on a case.”

Sam arranged his blanket so it wasn’t dangling off the edge and took up the conversation. “I don’t think we could have finished the case without him,” he said warmly, remembering their time in the Wellwood forest fondly. It was a rare opportunity to spend time with people his own size, and Sam missed those sprites. Rischa and Vel, along with Bowman and all his griping. “What’s going on? Is there trouble?” He remembered Dean giving the business card out in case any other emergencies arose, since they knew that a supernatural community like that might draw in other dangers, both supernatural and mundane.

“There’s no trouble,” Bowman interrupted, taking a perch on Jacob’s shoulder so he could address the device in his massive hand. It took a lot of convincing for him to truly believe that phones worked so well that conversations could be held between people continents apart. Sam and Dean could be anywhere out there, according to Jacob, but apparently they would be able to hear him talking.

“Unless you count Jacob not believing what happened here as trouble,” Bowman continued, pointedly nudging at Jacob’s neck with a wing. The shoulder beneath him twitched. “I was saying how you guys came and took me away but then helped us and he didn’t believe that there were zom-bees.”

“Okay, but you gotta admit, zombie wolves are kind of out there,” Jacob defended, unable to stop himself. Then, remembering that he was talking to a pair of guys that apparently spent all their time hunting things like that, he asked “They are, aren’t they?”

Dean chuckled, feeling some of the tension leave at the sound of Bowman’s voice, hale and hearty and as annoyed as ever. “They are definitely not your run-of-the-mill monster, that’s for sure. Hell, we never knew there were sprites living on earth until we had a run in with Bowman. It was a weird case all around.”

“So, you’re Bowman’s friend?” Sam asked eagerly. It wasn’t often he got to talk to safe humans like Dean and Bobby. “He mentioned you when we were working together. We don’t run into too many people that know about people… Bowman’s size.” He stumbled over his words, almost slipping up and saying my size.

Jacob grinned, bemused by the thought of Bowman telling other people about him. Hopefully the stories were good. “Yeah, I guess the sprites keep themselves pretty hidden all over the place,” he replied.

“Because most of you humans are giants,” Bowman cut in pointedly. The fact that he could find an easy perch on a shoulder of all things spoke to how ridiculously big humans were.

Bowman’s use of the phrase ‘most of you’ reminded Jacob yet again what else he’d heard about Sam. “Yeah, we’re unfair about it, alright,” he replied. Before Bowman could gripe at him for his comment, he went on. “But I’m guessing you’re Sam? Bowman’s been telling me about both of you guys, and says you kept your brother from being too troublesome with him. I’m impressed because, well, I’m betting you know by now how easily he talks himself into trouble.”

“Climb a dead tree, Jacob!” Bowman protested. This time, his wing smacked at the hand with the phone, and a rustle of wings could be heard through the microphone.

Sam heard the wingslap, and was reminded of all the ways Dean and Bowman had poked at each other throughout the case. Those memories were temporarily overridden, though, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He’d forgotten Bowman would probably tell his friend about him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Sam,” Sam introduced himself shyly. He could count on one hand the number of humans he knew and interacted with on a friendly basis, so this was a little out of his depth. “I help Dean on hunts.”

“You’re a hunter like Dean,” Dean corrected sternly, nudging his little brother in the shoulder before he tilted the phone and let Sam slide off into a hand of his own where he could safely untangle himself from the blanket. “And no one will ever say differently while I’m around.”

Calling John Bonham (3 of 5)

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A short story of Brothers Apart

Shifting the line of books out of the way, Dean opened up Sam’s little haven to the open air and revealing the tiny desk Dean had bought him along with the little hunter himself, sprawled out in his bed and cozy under his blankets.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said, reaching forward and nudging at one of the tiny shoulders. He almost held his breath, making sure he didn’t nudge Sam hard enough to leave bruises behind. His little brother might be full of confidence in his ability to interact and survive in the human world, but Dean knew better than anyone how simple it was for Sam to get a broken arm or leg if a person was one iota too rough.

Sam didn’t react more than to draw his blankets closer, going from sprawled out to a little ball of hunter under the nightstand.

Dean smirked, entertained by the sight and wishing he could save a picture of that for blackmail. It wasn’t safe to have pictures of any of the little people, or Dean definitely would. For now, he held the phone next to Sam’s bed and nudged him again. “Hey, pint-size, how the hell do I answer this thing?”

Sam groaned, then flinched as the phone rang, filling his nightstand haven with a loud guitar riff. “Dudewhatthehell,” he mumbled, all of his words mashed together in his exhaustion. He blinked open tired hazel eyes, trying to rub them so he could see the screen clearly. It was so bright he nearly had to shade his eyes, and he leaned out of bed to swipe the password and get rid of Dean so he could sink back into sleep.

The last part of the code was on the far side of the phone, so Sam had to stretch to reach it, and before he knew it he was falling out of bed. Vertigo struck as Sam tried to piece together what was happening, the phone lifting from under the nightstand, and the next sight he saw was Dean’s smirk, larger than life as his older brother tried to hold in a snicker at the sight.

Sam, thanks to his unexpected tumble, was still curled up in his blanket, flopped over the touch screen.

And that of course was when Sam accidentally hit Answer for the phone call. The icon changed to green to let them know the call connected, and all Sam could think to say was a sleepy “Hello?” while Dean cracked up, trying to stifle his laughter behind his other hand. Not how Sam had planned his morning to go.

There was a pause as Jacob contained his surprise that the number was actually good. He’d thought that maybe Bowman saved some litter to help with his story. “Uh, yeah, hi,” he greeted. Bowman’s wings left a light gust of air as the sprite took to the air again.

“Can they actually hear you? Is that Dean?” the sprite asked in a hushed voice, staring at the phone in Jacob’s hand. Jacob only spared him a glance as he hovered overhead.

“My name is Jacob Andris and I’m told that this number is for a Dean Winchester, is that right?” Jacob asked, his deep voice coming through the speakers so near where Sam lay tangled in his blankets.

“Uh… yeah, this is Dean’s phone,” Sam said, somehow managing to piece together a coherent reply despite how flustered he felt. There was a human on the other end, and clearly not someone Sam was familiar with, based on the voice. He glanced up at Dean, fairly desperate to be rescued from the awkward conversation. Right now he felt more like Dean’s secretary, answering his phone for him.

It took a moment more for Dean to recover from the sight of his baby brother bundled up in his blankets like a little burrito and collapsed on the phone screen. The phone was taller than Sam was, so Sam barely took up a third of the screen while he was curled up. Dean gently nudged a tiny foot so it wasn’t covering up the receiver and got a bitchface in return for not helping Sam off.

It was just too funny to see, and Dean wanted to enjoy every minute. It isn’t every day your four inch brother falls onto your phone during a call.

Dean held the phone closer to his face as he leaned back against his bed. “This is Dean Winchester. How did you get this number?”

Calling John Bonham (2 of 5)

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A short story of Brothers Apart

Bowman returned ten minutes later, flying far less gracefully than when he’d left. Jacob raised his eyebrows at the sight; Bowman was indeed carrying something in his arms, something almost as long as his tiny body was tall. Jacob realized with a smile that it was a business card. “No shit,” he said as Bowman closed the distance between them.

“Ha! Now you gotta believe me, Dean said the numbers on it can be used to call him,” Bowman announced smugly, right before letting the card fall. Jacob had to fumble to catch it before it fluttered to the ground. He lifted it up, privately eager to see some confirmation of what Bowman told him.

“Bowman …” Jacob said, reading the card.

“What now?! I got you proof and everything!” Bowman complained, taking a perch on top of Jacob’s head while they both stared at the name and phone number on the card.

“The name on it is ‘John Bonham,’ Bowman.”

“What?! But his name is Dean! Dean … Winchester!” Bowman protested, punctuating it with a small whap from one of his wings on Jacob’s head.

Jacob thought for a moment. It wasn’t likely that Bowman would have made up a name like ‘Winchester’ on his own. “Hey, I’ll still give the number a try, how about that?” Jacob dug his phone from his pocket, his eyes pointed upward even though he couldn’t see the sprite perched on him. “What do you say?”

The motel room was a peaceful sight in the morning after the Winchesters latest successful hunt. Slits of sunlight made it through the curtains Dean had drawn across the massive windows that bordered the front of their room, covered up so it would be safe for Sam to be out and about in the room if he wanted to be, and they wouldn’t have to worry about him being spotted by any curious onlookers, innocent or dangerous.

They’d had enough problems with dangerous humans in the past. No one wanted a repeat of Sam’s kidnapping.

Dean was lying flat on his back, slow breaths making his chest rise and fall with a steady rhythm. After so long spent with Sam, and having his pocket used as a bed when Sam needed a place to stay, it was habit to lie like that. The small hunter never asked, but Dean made sure he didn’t have to. Sam shouldn’t have to ask for somewhere safe to sleep.

Sam himself slept on his own bed, under the nightstand that stood between the two queen beds that made up their room. Dean had set it up when they got in, and until late the night before it was all but forgotten. A successful vengeful spirit hunt combined with a night of celebratory drinking resulted in neither brother hitting the sack until at least 2 am.

So the phone going off around 11 am found a room full of sleeping Winchesters.

Dean groaned, rubbing a hand down his face and blinking rapidly to clear up his vision. Normally he wouldn’t have such a hard time waking, as used to being constantly on guard as he was, but their night of celebrating had gone on longer than he expected, both brothers feeling the release of stress after such a simple in- and out- case finished.

He glanced to the side, sleepily groping on the nightstand table to grab his phone. It took a time or two, and he squinted as the number scrolled across the screen. He didn’t recognize it.

This might normally be the point where Dean would answer the phone and demand to know who was calling and how did they get his number, but his urge to growl at the caller was thoroughly thwarted by one simple fact.

He didn’t know how to unlock the new phone.

The damn thing was a smartphone, one of the first around. Sam was hyped up with excitement over having a phone that could connect to the internet without ever having to go on the computer. They could get directions, just like a GPS, and never have to open a map to find their way to the next town over. Sam would have a much easier time navigating maps on a phone a little bigger than he was compared to the mass of paper maps that could cover the entire back seat of the Impala.

Dean was still learning how to use the phone, and the friggin’ password wasn’t words or numbers like normal, but rather a design on the touchscreen that he had to swipe his fingers across and he didn’t have time for this shit.

As the phone reached the third ring, Dean swung his legs out of bed and knelt on the floor. Sam had programmed the damn thing, he could figure out how to answer it.

Calling John Bohnam (1 of 5)

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A short story of Brothers Apart

(It’s been a long time since the last BA update, and we miss them as much as you do! So enjoy this short update from the series from when Jacob discovered exactly what, and who, he missed during the events of A Lich of Sense!)

Jacob Andris sat in what the wood sprites of Wellwood had dubbed “his” clearing. He’d been back to visit as many times as he could manage since he first wandered deep into the forest with his friends and discovered that an entire village of tiny little winged beings lived out there. They remained so isolated from the world that they barely knew humans existed before Jacob and his friends, Bobby and Chase, showed up.

Now, in an autumn a little over a year after he first met Bowman Leafwing, Jacob was back again, watching his small friend wheel about in the air. Bowman’s vibrant green wings contrasted with the trees around them, which were showing their reds and oranges with the turning of the seasons. Soon they would drop to the ground, and winter would be upon the woods.

Bowman was agitated over a long story he’d spent the last several minutes recounting. Jacob knew better than to interrupt even the more outrageous claims from the sprite, so he simply watched, nodding when appropriate. Some parts had the sprite so riled that he nearly derailed his train of thought to grouse about them.

More than once, Jacob had to wonder if there was some kind of special mushroom out in the woods here that might have inspired Bowman’s imaginative tale.

At the same time, a lot of it seemed so plausible. Especially the part about a human catching Bowman and taking him out of the forest. Jacob had to prompt Bowman to move on from describing the many corners found in a human dwelling as the sprite was driven to distraction by the foreign thought.

Bowman’s story also included zombies, of all things. Zombie wolves, raised by a zombie magic user of some kind, that was there to claim sprites for some purpose of which the mere memory made Bowman shudder. If it all really happened, Jacob was loathe to think about the fact that he hadn’t been around to help. His best friend might have faced something straight out of an intense nightmare and he was alone for it.

“So,” Jacob finally interjected when Bowman’s story was winding down, “this Dean guy. After he brought you back to the woods and fought the … life-sick things, he’s an ally now? Him and his sprite-sized brother Sam?” It was one of the more intriguing parts of the story, the possibility of a human who stood the same height as Bowman paired up with a man who fought zombie wolves without flinching.

Bowman flew in a tight spiral, diving downwards so he could stop to hover at Jacob’s eye level. “Yes. He started out blasted rude, grabbing me and keeping me in a pocket. Which, by the way, if you ever try that, I will kick you in the face.”

Jacob held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured the sprite.

Bowman nodded in approval, but he still seemed cynical of something. “You don’t believe me, do you?” he said, narrowing his eyes at Jacob’s face.

Jacob offered him a sheepish grin. “I … well, it’s just pretty out there, is all,” he admitted.

Bowman rolled his eyes. “You always said no one knows the sprites exist, but here I am. Existing.”

“Okay, yeah, but zombies, Bowman?” Jacob shot back, trying to hold back a smirk. At this point, Bowman would be riled up either way. He might as well get some entertainment out of it.

Bowman pointed at him. “They called them that, too,” he insisted. “Zom-bees.” Jacob gave him a skeptical look, and Bowman scowled. “Whatever!” He flew in a wide circle around Jacob’s head, wings rustling. “Do you believe me or not?!” he asked.

“Okay, okay, say I believe something happened,” Jacob conceded. “Did those guys say they’d come back?”

Bowman stopped with a faint rustle of his wings as they shifted to hover. “No, they had to go fight more monsters,” he answered. To Jacob’s continued disbelieving look, Bowman frowned and added hastily “But they left a piece of paper with numbers on it and said I could use it to contact them if we needed help ever again!”

With that announcement, Bowman darted out of the clearing, determination carrying him off like a shot. Jacob flinched from the sudden exit, and then relaxed again. He was intrigued by the promise of solid proof, so he waited.

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September 7th excerpt:

An idea hit when he spotted the unused pillow sitting on his bed. Dean didn’t move much when he slept, mostly just curling into his own spot due to having to share the occasional bed with Sam. His little brother would sprawl, taking over as much of the bed as possible and usually leaving Dean with just a corner.

With that in mind, Dean walked over to the bed and lowered his hand to the pillow. Oscar would certainly have plenty of space to himself, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Dean knocking into his pillow.

Tiny has the unfortunate (or fortunate) timing of being on a giant’s stomach when they start laughing

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big-fluffy-dragon-deactivated20:

Wouldn’t it be cute if a tiny was just sitting on a giants tum while they tell them a joke, it’s not even that good but all of the sudden the giant bursts out into a huge rumbling belly laugh!

The tiny thinks it feels like some sort of seismic quake as they bounce up suddenly, letting out a little yelp of shock- but after a bit it becomes quite fun, like a bouncy castle and soon they’re both laughing even more!

( I can’t resist putting this out there since we’ve got this exact tumbly scenario in a future story :3)

Dean leaned back against the pillow and dropped Jacob down on his chest so they could watch TV together. The warm light of the television soon bathed the room in a familiar light.

Jacob was winded as he landed, dazed. Of course, he still wasn’t used to how quickly Dean moved at all, so he could hardly register the few seconds between being scooped up again and falling with a gasp from Dean’s hand.

The surface he landed on rose and fell, and there was a familiar pulse thudding away beneath him. Jacob pushed himself up to hands and knees abruptly, staring down in befuddlement at the black fabric of the t-shirt Dean had donned just minutes before. Jacob could feel minor muscle twitches as the chest rhythmically shifted to accommodate lungs that emptied and filled themselves over and over.

“What the hell,” he muttered, completely nonplussed as he tried to at least move himself to a seated position. But the slope and the unfamiliar terrain combined so that Jacob leaned to the side and lost his balance, falling over once again. The TV was ignored as he frowned and made another attempt.

Dean was distracted from the TV as well the moment he felt Jacob tumble down his chest. A smile started to form on his face at the sight of how off-balance the kid was. He chuckled. “You’re like one of those weeble wobbles they used to sell when I was little.” The sight of Jacob tumbling more made him laugh even harder. “Man, I wish I knew about this last night. I could have used a good laugh.”

Jacob felt like he was on a trampoline, with someone else jumping. The surface underneath him now shook up and down a lot faster, causing him to tumble this way and that, or land in a heap only to have the ground disappear again. He couldn’t focus on one thing before he was shaken again and facing something else, so it was little surprise that his scowl could never be aimed at Dean directly.

He was winded with one particular tumble, and it dazed him enough to roll a few inches before he could stop himself. He managed to get a grasp on the fabric of Dean’s shirt, despite the movement all around, and the noise that drowned out everything else. He lost his grip with one hand and scrambled to regain it before the other hand slipped, too.

Jacob wasn’t quick enough. He slipped farther until he was on a softer surface. Dean’s belly shook even more and left him even dizzier. “F-f-fuck y-you,” he managed to stutter out in retort, his arms still flailing for purchase on the shirt to try and halt some of the tumbling.

Dean snorted in response. “You should see your face!” He couldn’t stop the laughter, unavoidably shaking the surface that Jacob was trying to sit up on. Dean had to brush tears from his eyes, muffled chortles still escaping him. “Man, I haven’t laughed like that since I was a kid.”

Taking slight pity on the kid, he pinched Jacob’s hoodie in an attempt to haul him to his feet. With the way Dean’s belly wouldn’t stop shaking from suppressed laughter, it didn’t do either of them much good, but he did manage to catch Jacob’s balance with two fingers and prop him slightly up. “Who needs TV while there’s live entertainment right here?”

After the Hunt

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A Brothers Found short story.

It was the light that woke him.

Sam Winchester, cursed to live at four inches in height, was not used to waking up to bright sunlight in his room. For years, he’d lived under the floorboards in the Trails West with his adopted family, staring up at what little light managed to trickle between the floorboards. The dark confines of their home were warm and safe, welcoming for the people who were smaller than a hand.

So opening his eyes to a brightly lit open space was the last thing Sam expected to see.

Looking around the room didn’t clear things up for him. His memories of the night before were still fuzzy and unfocused, mixing up with the varied dreams he’d had. Sam sucked in a gasp of surprise when he saw a massive human lying in a bed only a foot away, peaceful breaths of air drawn into lungs bigger than Sam… or his bed… or even his home.

Sam curled his legs closer, trying to make himself as small as possible while his mind raced. What had happened? He didn’t remember getting caught… at least not since Jacob first got his hands on him.

Then he spotted Jacob lying in the other bed, his face just as relaxed as the other man’s, and the memories came rushing back.

A bit of the tension unwound from Sam’s back. That man lying so close by was Dean. Sam’s determination had lead him and Jacob to the hunter’s doorstep, culminating in a reunion that was long overdue. Sam calmed his breathing and did his best to relax, repeating to himself that he was with his older brother, and Dean would never let anything happen to him.

That fact was clearly underlined by Dean’s reaction to the bruises covering Sam’s torso. It was the outcome of a mistake by Jacob, holding Sam just a little too tight, and the teenager was repentant. He’d helped Sam and driven the cursed man over eight hours to find his older brother, and so Sam had forgiven him.

Dean was a harder sell, especially only seconds after discovering Sam was alive. Sam had prevented Dean from putting more than an impressive bruise on the kid, and had a feeling that if he’d let Dean keep going, Jacob would have been tossed out of the room with no other thanks.

There was a shifting on the bed Dean was sleeping on, and Sam found himself curling more of the blanket– which, when he looked down at what he was sitting on, discovered it to be a black t-shirt– around himself so he didn’t feel so exposed.

Green eyes blinked tiredly open and Sam could swear his neck tingled as they glanced around at the room. It was a full minute before comprehension fell over Dean’s face, and he saw Sam sitting there, arms around his knees and trying his best to hide in plain sight.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. His eyes briefly flicked to Jacob to make sure he was asleep, then back to Sam. “How you feelin,’ pint-size?”

Nerves or not, Sam couldn’t hide a roll of his eyes at the nickname he had a feeling Dean would never give up on. At least, not from the look in his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, more insistent than he meant to be. A doubtful look crossed Dean’s face, and Sam knew he wasn’t hiding his nerves as well as he thought.

Sam hunched his shoulders. “Just… not used to being out in the open like this,” he said hesitantly. It felt like he was admitting a weakness.

Understanding filled Dean’s eyes, and the hard look that always seemed to be on his face softened. “You fell asleep after the hunt,” he said in an attempt to explain. “I… wasn’t sure where else to… put you.”

The same hesitation filled Dean’s voice, and Sam realized his older brother had no better idea about how they were supposed to handle things than he did. For some reason, that made him feel a little better. He might not know what he was doing, but neither did Dean.

“Maybe…” Dean was scanning the room while he talked. “I’m sure we can find somewhere hidden for you to stay. Y’know… if you wanted to.”

Sam looked into those green eyes, trying to ignore the way they were the size of his head, and saw hope, and fear, and nerves that almost equaled his own. He remembered the night before, when Dean almost didn’t want to believe that Sam was back.

“Of course I want to stick around,” Sam said, his voice so soft that Dean found himself leaning in. Sam twined his fingers together, focusing on them more than the gigantic hunter. “I just… should get my stuff from my home. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone there when we left. Wasn’t… really sure we’d actually find you.”

“Well, you found me,” Dean said, grinning at Sam. After a second of contemplation, he moved his arm and Sam found a hand reaching towards him. He tried to not flinch, but stiffened completely and squinted his eyes shut.

Something large touched the top of his head, then lightly ruffled his hair. Sam opened up his eyes to see Dean’s hand already retreating back to his side and realized it had only been a fingertip.

“You’ll have a hard time losing me, ever again.”