March 8th excerpt:

A few steps away was a crossing, which had just turned in the direction that John wasn’t heading, so he shoved his hands in his pockets with a sigh and waited patiently for the light.

Boredom struck quickly, and curiosity brought his attention sliding back the way he’d come, to that strange figure in the snow. He didn’t understand why until he thought about it; whatever it was, it was small enough to be a toy. But a fallen toy wouldn’t manipulate itself in such a position.

March 6th excerpt:

Sam blinked up at the ceiling overhead. He was currently under the coffee table in the living room. His new world was so different. Thick carpet fibers under his boots threatened to offset his balance, and from time to time dust would try clinging to him. Sam brushed the dust off. He was growing used to that, at least. His new size came with so many other downfalls, he just ignored the small annoyances.

Close by, one of Jacob’s trucks was left on its own. The younger boy must have left it there before he had to leave with his mom. It wasn’t safe for Sam to come with them all the time, so he’d remained in the house.

Curious, he trailed a hand up the door to the truck. If it wasn’t thick plastic, Sam would be the right size to open the door and sit in the driver’s seat. He grinned a little at that thought, imagining himself driving around a truck through the house.

Woo! You hit it on the nail!

(And you were so super close we were rooting for you XD Saw the guesses come in like Soooooo clooooose…)

You’ve earned everyone a look at Bobby of Far Away!

And… it’s not the Bobby people adore.


“We were helping you! ” Sam snapped angrily up at the human. “Why the hell would you do this?!”

Scar wavered, with his legs only caught from just above the knees and down. He glared in surprise at the human, but cursed himself for his mistake even as the giant stared in smug triumph at him. He’d miscalculated and made a dangerous error in taking his focus off the enemy for even a second. He should have known better.

But this Bobby acted like no foe Scar had ever encountered before. The attack had hurt him, but he didn’t care.

“I’m doing it because it’s my land and I’ve been looking for sprites for forever?!” Bobby answered, exasperated and clearly annoyed that he even bothered to explain at all. It was clear on his face that it was a waste of time. “Now shuddup, would ya? This is a big deal.” He held Scar up at his eye level, watching the lean little guy try to stay upright while also trying to tug his legs free. It was futile, of course. He was way too weak.

“Blast it, you child,” Scar hissed. “Let go of us both now!” he demanded.

Bobby, of course, ignored him. Instead, he raised his other hand, the one still clamped around Sam. After adjusting his grip a little, he was able to pinch one of the fluttering, leafy wings in his thumb and first finger to stretch it out and look at it in the dying light.

“Owning land doesn’t mean you own people,” Sam snapped up at the human. When Bobby’s grip shifted around him, he managed to pull out an arm and try to shove against the hand he was trapped in. He couldn’t gain any traction at all. He might be stronger than a sprite but that meant almost nothing compared to a human of any size. Bobby was younger than him, and he was as inconsequential as a toy in those huge fingers as they shifted around him to examine the sprite.

“Leave his wings alone!” Sam shouted, punching in frustration against the knuckle he was closest to. He shoved his boots against the skin they were trapped within, wishing they had sharper heels to use as weapons.

“Nope,” Bobby shot back absently, even while he forced the wing into different angles to see how it moved. Scar winced and continued to struggle against him, but the movements were subdued with one wing stretched out. He couldn’t risk twisting at the wrong angle and damaging his wing.

Why? ” Scar spat. “What are you planning?”

April 12th excerpt:

Sam was holding his handcrafted knife in front of himself in a defensive position, legs bent in one of the stances Dean had taught him. If he had brighter clothing on, he would fit right in with the action figures they sold at the toy stores around the country, only he was far more realistic.

Dean’s voice went on overhead as Sam started to sweat. “This one we had custom made.”

April 11th excerpt: 

Dean went on. “That’s one of our smallest toys. My brother just keeps it around because our dad gave it to him before he passed. I mean, when you hold it up to,” his hand reached into his pocket, “this, there’s really no comparison.”

His fingers looped firmly around Sam’s body. He could feel his little brother trembling even as he was withdrawn into the light. Regret hammered in Dean’s chest in an accusatory pattern. He knew from experience that a child finding him and treating him like a toy scared Sam more than almost anything else, and here they were, pretending he was one. At his size, he looked like a super-realistic action figure. At the moment, it was the only chance they had.

Once Sam was out of the pocket, he froze up. Every instinct in him was screaming at him to get away, get under cover and hide! One human had a hand wrapped around him, another was staring greedily at him like he was the world’s coolest toy.