How cute is Jacob and Dean here? Thanks Neonthewrite for requesting it!
I ran out of ink on one of my nicer pens so I had to finish coloring it in with a different brand of pen – I hope it’s not too noticeable.
(Now that I got a new job the future pics are going to be a bit more simplified with the lack of much free time. however I am thrilled to be working again! )
October 10th excerpt:
Sam put his hands on his hips and looked up at Jacob. “You ever hotwire a car before?” he asked.
October 9th excerpt:
Despite knowing it was rude to stare, Jacob kept his eyes on Sam’s progress until the small form disappeared into the opening. Once he was out of sight, it was like he’d never been there. Jacob pushed himself up and brushed off his hands, marveling at what he’d just seen. If he were to look under the car again, he would almost miss that little opening.
Cars weren’t supposed to have tiny entrances like that, but it wasn’t the first surprise he’d gotten from the brothers. It wasn’t even the strangest surprise. Jacob returned to his feet and made his way to the driver door, peeking in the windows and wondering if he’d catch sight of Sam walking around in there.
October 7th excerpt:
Sam directed Jacob on where to lower him down, pointing out the ground directly next to the rear driver’s side tire. That would put him closest to his panic room entrance and shorten the journey.
From down on the ground next to the tire, Sam saw a rare perspective of the Impala– his home. She loomed overhead, all shadows underneath and chrome overhead throwing the sunlight back at Jacob. It could have been an intimidating scene, the ceiling over Sam’s head a confusing landscape of car parts that only Dean knew how to navigate, but instead Sam felt safe here. The Impala was as much his as it was Dean’s, as Dean would insist whenever he was working on her.
Sam turned back to Jacob. “I’m going to open the door on the driver’s side to let you in, okay?” he said seriously. “It’ll be a few minutes, but I’ll get there.”
October 6th excerpt:
By the time the Impala came into sight between the trees ahead, the sun was warm overhead. Jacob had almost gotten used to the tiny weight on his shoulder, barely noticeable unless he paid attention. Sam was a much quieter passenger than Bowman. Even Rischa, when she landed on him, had more questions.
He paused several paces away from the huge, shining black car and ignored the faint clatter of weapons in the duffel bag. “Crap,” he muttered. “I’m gonna guess you don’t have a spare key hidden in your bag.”
September 10th excerpt:
Soon after stepping into the car and closing the door with a slam, Jacob realized that he didn’t have quite as much room as he usually did in his own car. He wasn’t crushed by any means, but his knees were cramped. He glanced around at the seat as they all got settled.
It was a bench seat. Jacob wasn’t moving unless Dean moved with him. I’ll just leave that as it is, then, he told himself.
September 2nd excerpt:
“Got the room number?” Dean asked Sam, who was down on the seat next to him, messing with the phone. Jacob’s text had come in, spelling out the room he was in and what car to look for.
“Room one-oh-four,” Sam called up, pushing the phone aside.
Dean eyed up the parking lot, spotting the Mercury Cougar parked out front the designated place. “This has to be it,” he said, holding out a hand for Sam.
You guessed it, and the sneak peek is here! Welcome to what will become the last story in season two of Brothers Apart!
Dean stepped up to the door, one huge hand raising up to knock. The hollow sound reverberated around Walt, more powerful than he could manage if he hit the door with all his might.
The sound died off, leaving them alone with the crickets chirping in the grass and Rumsfeld whining from by Dean’s side. The Rottweiler wagged his tail when Walt peered off the edge, prancing in place at the sight of the smaller people sitting up on Dean’s shoulder.
A distant “Come in!” made its way to where they stood, and Sam and Dean both frowned in unison, a silent look passing between them.
“What is it?” Walt asked warily, disliking the way the air filled with tension.
“Might be nothing,” Dean muttered, his voice staying low for them.
“Might be something,” Sam interjected, one hand tight on Dean’s collar while the other rested against his brother’s neck. “Bobby always answers the door. He doesn’t trust people in his house.”
“With good reason.”
By some silent accord the brothers had, Dean pushed open the door and Sam hunkered down, pulling Walt down with him.
For a man who stood near nineteen times Walt’s height, Dean’s footsteps were light and carefully placed to avoid the creak of wood. He knew this house close to as well as he knew the Impala, using that knowledge to stalk towards where the voice had come from.
Dean reached the doorway, and went rigid before Walt could see what he was looking at.
Sam gasped, his hands falling away from Dean and Walt. Walt felt his body fill with tension all over again at the sight of the men in the room.
“Boys,” John Winchester greeted, sitting across the desk from where Bobby sat.
All surprise and shock aside, everyone heard Walt’s voice suddenly cut across the thick silence that padded John’s greeting.
“It’s you,” Walt breathed, his eyes locked on Bobby Singer.
The time for questions to be answered has come! Don’t miss Bittersweet Parting!
July 13th excerpt:
Lunch took half an hour, and Dean spent most of that time patiently scanning the world outside the Impala. He couldn’t stomach the thought of food, so he fiddled with the paper bag the sandwich had come from, hoping maybe Sam would think he’d eaten a second sandwich. Maybe he’d been too distracted to listen to Dean order, or–
Dean lost all hope of sliding this one past Sam when he heard the disapproving tone in the soft voice down on the seat. He turned his eyes down to where Sam was standing with his arms crossed, right next to the parted foil wrapper of the sandwich. Clearly, he knew Dean had never ordered more food. Not that Dean had held out much hope of slipping it by Sam. He never could.
With a wan smile, Dean gave it his best shot. “I just figured you might want seconds,” he said in a half-hearted protest, waving the food off.
May 15th excerpt:
A Horse With No Name came on the radio and Dean found himself humming along to it, satisfied with the end of the case.
“The heat was hot and the ground was dry, but the air was full of sound,” Dean let out as he saw a sign pass by on the road, pointing towards a Taco Bell in the next town. Tacos for lunch sounded like a plan to him.