This story is for the contest going on over at @brothersapart. Fans of gt and/or supernatural should give that blog a look, because there’s some quality writing of both over there. The contest has already attracted some really awesome entries, too! I’m adding mine into the fray.
The story is a slight AU of the Brothers Apart series. It takes place the night before Sam is cursed and shrunk by the witch.
Walt frowned sternly up at the boy, but refused to show his confusion. Most humans wouldn’t respond that way to him snapping at them, that was for sure. “No, you didn’t,” he had to admit. “But I do want you to put me down.”
He didn’t get lowered to the floor immediately, but Sam did adjust his grip so that Walt sat in his cupped hands. Walt was tempted to go for his razor again, but held back for the time being. At least he was making progress in the right direction, though his pounding heart was just short of frantic enough for a heart attack.
“I promise I will,” Sam said earnestly. “But … who are you? Why were you in our room? Dad and Dean say the supernatural is dangerous!”
Walt kept his wary, stern gaze fixed on the look above him. He couldn’t help it, but behind the facade that all humans represented to him, of giants full of malice and greed that were out for their own gain, he saw Sam for what he was.
Just a kid.
Full of wonder and concern and the same human notion to grab, but a kid all the same. “Do I look dangerous to you?” he prompted, his voice and face still stern but slightly kinder than before. Sam shook his head. “You are more dangerous to me,” Walt assured him with confidence.
At that, Sam almost looked sheepish. “I … I’m real sorry I grabbed you,” he finally mumbled, his ears a little pinker than they were before. Walt nodded once, accepting the apology despite the lingering fear. He was still stuck in Sam’s hands at least a foot in the air.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Walt instructed him, feeling suddenly like he was scolding a child that could be his own. That tone had slipped into his voice without him realizing it.
Sam sighed, and the warm air brushed past Walt’s face. Then, much to Walt’s eternal surprise, the boy lowered his hands to the floor. Walt wasted no time in scrambling off of them and backing up on the carpet, hoping the boy wasn’t initiating a game of cat and mouse.
“Now can you tell me who you are? I won’t grab you again! Maybe we can be friends. We don’t …” Sam sat up straighter to peer over the bed again, once more checking on his brother. Walt couldn’t help but take a few more wary steps back.
He stopped when Sam looked back down at him, a melancholy in his eyes that should be reserved for someone much older than him. “We move around a lot so I don’t get to make very many friends.”
Walt’s stern look didn’t waver, but he sighed anyway. The boy’s loneliness coated every syllable, now, and Walt couldn’t unlearn what he had about Sam. “I’m Walt,” he relented. Sam positively beamed with delight. “And if you want to be my friend, Sam, all you have to do is promise that you won’t ever grab someone like me if you find them. We’re all just trying to get by, and we don’t mean you or anyone else any harm.”
Sam nodded vigorously. Then, his hand was rapidly approaching, and Walt stumbled backwards further. The hand stopped in front of him, the littlest finger extended towards him. Walt looked up at Sam in confusion in time for the boy to say “I pinky promise!”
Tag: tumblr contest entries 2016
Pinky Promise (2/4)
This story is for the contest going on over at @brothersapart. Fans of gt and/or supernatural should give that blog a look, because there’s some quality writing of both over there. The contest has already attracted some really awesome entries, too! I’m adding mine into the fray.
The story is a slight AU of the Brothers Apart series. It takes place the night before Sam is cursed and shrunk by the witch.
He didn’t have time to go for the razor in his jacket before the hand was upon him. Walt felt the fingers coil partway around him and then hesitate. He looked away from them to see that the boy’s eyes were turning towards him as he leaned over the side of the bed.
When he caught sight of Walt, something he probably had not expected to grab when he went absently for his dropped pen, a quiet gasp sounded up above. The pair was frozen for a second, staring at each other in surprise as a cartoon’s theme song started up on the forgotten TV.
Then, the fingers closed all the way around Walt’s struggling form and he found himself soaring into the air, lying on his back on a net of fingers with his arms pinned to his side. There was a whirl of motion as the boy lifted him up in front of his face, and then looked right past Walt at his sleeping brother. Before Walt could read the expression on the young boy’s face, he rolled over with Walt still in hand and almost dove off the other side of the bed. Walt hunched over in the kid’s secure grip and tried not to be sick.
He only opened his eyes again when he was sure the motion had stopped. The boy had huddled himself on the floor, placing his bed between himself and his sleeping brother to hide what he’d found. Walt was almost grateful for the consideration, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Big, curious hazel eyes peered down at him, very nearly hidden by messy brown bangs that hung over his forehead. The kid’s lips were parted slightly in awe and he looked over Walt’s few inches curiously, while Walt continued to squirm and try to at least free one of his arms.
“My name’s Sam,” the boy introduced himself. “What’s yours? What are you?” Sam’s hazel eyes were wide and hopeful as he stared at Walt, but no answer came. Walt was too busy trying to squirm free to waste time on idle conversation with a huge kid that had captured him and could keep him if he wanted to.
That quickly changed when Sam’s other hand appeared, and his index finger extended and brushed at the side of Walt’s face, making him flinch back and try to lean away from the curious contact like he’d been burned. “Don’t do that! Put me down now!”
Sam froze, and blinked at Walt, before peeking over the edge of the bed as if Walt’s outburst might have woken his brother up. Then the boy huddled down even further, staring at Walt. “I-I’m sorry, did I hurtcha? I didn’t mean to!” Sam whispered.
Pinky Promise (1/4)
This story is for the contest going on over at @brothersapart. Fans of gt and/or supernatural should give that blog a look, because there’s some quality writing of both over there. The contest has already attracted some really awesome entries, too! I’m adding mine into the fray.
The story is a slight AU of the Brothers Apart series. It takes place the night before Sam is cursed and shrunk by the witch.
Walt didn’t like it, but he hadn’t been left with much of a choice. The supply of crackers and dried meat from the last rat he’d managed to dispatch was running low, and the motel was in a slow season. No, Walt didn’t like it one bit.
It meant he had to venture into occupied rooms. He had to pray that no one saw him or came back while he was out somewhere vulnerable.
It only took one set of eyes spotting him and it could all be over. Walt had far too much experience with that simple truth. He’d spent days in a cage before, waiting for his enormous captor to return and either do away with him or sell him like an object, a pet. Leaving Mallory all alone. Walt was lucky he’d survived that.
That hadn’t hardened his heart the most against humans. Walt had been fortunate to meet one good human then. He was not so lucky when it was his daughter, his sweet baby girl, behind bars. Bars that Walt couldn’t budge no matter how much he wanted to.
Humans took Bree away from him, and all he’d ever been able to do was tell her it’d be okay and watch as they left with her in a cage, helpless.
Now, it was just him and Mallory. He preferred to keep his petite little wife out of danger as much as he could, and worked hard to bring home enough when he went out. He couldn’t lose her, too.
He shifted his feet as he waited. His hiding place under the bed wasn’t ideal, but the two kids staying in the room had dropped plenty of crumbs. He was desperate, and confident in his patience. The food in his leather satchel would be reward enough as soon as he had a clear shot at the entrance hidden behind the other bed.
There were two humans in the room with him, a fact that could set his heart pounding by itself. To top it off, they were kids. The older one was in his mid teens at the most. The slow rhythm of breathing was barely audible over the TV he’d left on, but Walt could tell he was asleep.
If it was just him, Walt would have made his exit already. A creak from the mattress overhead rang ominously in his ears as the younger boy shifted and squirmed into a more comfortable position on the bed. The scratching of a pen on the motel room’s notepad resumed as the boy continued his drawing, blissfully unaware of anything around him.
The TV announced a show to be starting soon, something about a hedgehog. Walt heard the quiet “Oooh!” from the kid above him, and found himself hoping that whatever it was might lull the younger kid to sleep as well. Then he could finally head home and put the stress of hiding in an occupied room behind him.
The boy shifted and the mattress creaked some more, and Walt watched the shadow out on the floor move. It looked like the kid was angling himself towards the TV more, and Walt edged forward carefully, thinking he could confirm the theory.
Just as he looked up, piercing blue eyes peering past the edge of the bed, he saw the pen plummeting downwards after being knocked to the edge by the boy’s movement. Walt gasped in surprised and stumbled to the side, barely avoiding the pen crashing down on top of him directly. Even so, it tilted and knocked into him anyway as he stumbled, leaving them both on the floor in a heap.
Heart pounding, Walt hastily shoved the pen away from him and looked up in time for a hand to fill his vision.
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 7/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest:http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
Dean watched intently as Sam took the cut section of the alcohol wipe and examined it. The piece had felt the right size while Dean had sliced it, but now it looked large and cumbersome in Sam’s much smaller hands. Averting his eyes briefly, Dean tried to swallow the feeling of being out of place among the three tiny folk on the bed, even though the motel room was scaled to his size, not theirs.
He had started to get used to Sam’s height, but seeing his shrunken brother around other tiny people was something Dean hadn’t been prepared for that morning.
A hiss of pain came from the bed. Dean looked down in time to see Shay writhe in response to the alcohol seeping into her wound. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, almost undetectable from her size, but her voice was unmissable. “Z-Ziana…”
Sam moved to keep cleaning the cut, but Ziana wasn’t having it. She sprang to her feet and half-tackled him to get the alcohol-soaked cloth away from her friend’s arm. Dean balked at the sight of the tiny struggle. Sam clearly held back to keep from hurting Ziana, while she was putting all her effort into stop him.
“Ziana!” Sam huffed and held the cloth out of her reach, patience growing thin. “I’m trying to–”
“I thought you said this would help!” She grabbed his shoulder and took another swipe at the cloth. “All you’re doing is hurting–HEY!”
Unable to sit back and watch Sam’s attempts to help be impeded, Dean snagged the back of Ziana’s t-shirt and pulled her off his brother. She swung her fists and kicked at nothing, as if she was trying to beat the open air to a pulp. On of her small hands brushed the side of her pants in a grab for a weapon that wasn’t there.
As quickly as her struggle started, it ended with her looking down at the bed below with wide eyes. The distance to the surface was nothing to Dean, but everything to her.
“Easy,” Dean muttered, lowering her into his free hand.
As she sat up rigidly, he could practically see her internal battle to either stay where she was or leap over the side of his palm. She glanced down and seemed to reel back from the latter idea. Nonetheless, he cupped his hands halfway just in case she changed her mind. She didn’t respond well to his attempt at helping. He felt slightly sick to his stomach at her tiny cry of alarm and the feeling of her panicked squirming to escape.
Aiming to keep her from jumping out and hurting herself, he had no choice but to seal his hands all the way, trapping her inside and sparking even more distress. The sensation of her struggles brought back an unwelcome reminder of when he first caught Sam–before he had known it was Sam.
But this time, he knew exactly what he was doing. If Ziana kept getting in the way, it would take hours before Shay’s wound was wrapped up, and by then it might be too late.
“I said easy,” Dean said firmly. “Even if that cut doesn’t need stitches, it’s a pretty nasty one. That’s alcohol Sam’s putting on her. Sorry to break it to you, kiddo, but it’s going to sting Shay no matter what. It needs to be cleaned this way.”
He glanced up from his hands, glad to see Sam had proceeded with cleaning the wound, though Dean noticed a touch of worry on Sam’s face when his little brother peeked over his shoulder. After all, someone his size was trapped right in front of him between Dean’s hands, and Sam was just letting it happen. But they both knew it was for the sake of saving an innocent.
Judging by the squirms that hadn’t lessened in the slightest within the prison of Dean’s palms and fingers, Ziana was the only one who didn’t understand why she was trapped.
“Let me go!” Despite the toughness she displayed, there was no mistaking the pitch of terror in her voice.
Dean pursed his lips, knowing that it wouldn’t be easy for Sam to work while listening to Ziana’s frightened pleads. Cracking open his hands a bit, he half-expected Ziana to try and squeeze herself through the opening, but she scrambled back further into the hollow of his palms with her chest rising and falling deeply and rapidly. Rather than call out her fear with assurances and elicit a fresh wave of anger from her, Dean took a different approach.
“How ‘bout we find something productive to do, huh?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Her only answer was a frown, so he went on before she could snap out of her confusion long enough to try and escape. “You said Shay has a fever, right? Well, since you blackened Sammy’s eye last night, we had to make an ice pack for it. We can make a couple more of those to try and bring Shay’s fever down.”
Without waiting for an answer, Dean stood up from the bedside, noting that Sam had almost finished wiping down the wound. Taking the lightest steps he could, Dean moved over to the table and took a seat. He lowered his hands to the tabletop and opened them, laying his fingers out so Ziana could climb off easily.
His attempt to be gentle went unappreciated, seeing as she tripped over his thumb in her mad dash to get off his hands. She whirled around to face him, brushing the side of her pants for her weapon again and backing up with slow steps.
“You look surprised,” he said, leaning back in his seat so he wouldn’t loom over her so much.
She stopped back-pedaling and narrowed her eyes at him. “Just always heard that a human would never let go once they get their hands on you. Guess you’re just weird or something.”
Hiding his wince with a snort, Dean knew at the back of his mind that Sam had been taught the exact same thing since he was cursed–that humans were nothing but a threat to the smaller folk. And in most cases, the lesson wasn’t wrong.
“Well, I kinda need both my hands for this,” Dean said.
Ziana flinched when he reached over her head to retrieve a roll of brown paper towels from the corner of the table. He leaned over to the mini-fridge, glad that he had gotten plenty of ice the night before. Straightening back up, he shook the bucket in search of smaller chunks of ice.
“Here. All you gotta do is wrap it up so it doesn’t slip out.” Dean tore a tiny piece of paper towel, trying to be more precise in his measurement than he had been with the alcohol wipe. He held it out to Ziana between a finger and thumb. She didn’t budge, looking between his fingers and his face. “C’mon,” he insisted. “If I wanted to grab you, I would’ve already.”
“Yeah, you did.” With that, she snatched the paper towel out from between his fingers and didn’t hesitate quite as much when he offered a sliver of ice on the pad of his index finger.
Rather than focus solely on wrapping up the ice, Ziana constantly peeked up at Dean, as if waiting for him to change his mind and be the evil sort of human she had been warned about all her life. It probably didn’t help that he sat there while doing nothing but watch her. He would have offered to make some ice packs of his own, but that would mean Ziana was less busy making them and more prone to have another fit over something or other.
And truth be told, there was something a little fascinating about watching such tiny hands construct something that would otherwise be mundane as Ziana paced a tight path on the table while she worked.
“Make sure you wrap it in a coupl’a layers so it doesn’t melt through,” he added.
“Yeah, I know,” she muttered, pretending she hadn’t nearly dropped the half-finished ice pack at the sound of his voice startling her.
“So, you and Shay have known each other for a while?” Dean asked. “What are you two? Sisters? Cousins? Friends?”
Ziana’s cheeks flushed so deeply that he would have believed she had a fever too. “F-Friends,” she said haltingly, looking up–though it seemed she was trying to look past Dean and at the bed rather than at him. She sighed. “We’re friends.” Clearing her throat, she held up the wrapped ice to show Dean. “Finished.”
Taking his curious frown away from her, Dean looked over his shoulder and found Sam getting ready to start wrapping the gash. Shay didn’t seem to have made any more outbursts, but to be on the safe side, Dean decided they could stand to make a few more ice packs.
Tearing another piece of paper towel, he held it out to Ziana. “Just a couple more.”
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 6/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest:http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
“It’s good to see you again.”
Sam’s voice might have made Ziana flinch if Dean’s footsteps hadn’t alerted her of his return. She gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement, too focused on figuring out of Shay had stirred or not when Dean’s walk sent tremors through the bed. It must have been wishful thinking because Shay’s face was passive, and she didn’t move at all where she lay–her upper half in Ziana’s arms and her lower half on the bedspread.
“For how long has she been like this?” Sam asked, coming to kneel by Ziana.
“She was awake last night when I got home after you and I… met.” Nestled among her fear for Shay was the realization that Sam had every reason to turn down helping her.
The bed shook again, the tremors tapering off instead of becoming more prominent this time. Ziana peeked over her shoulder at Dean’s broad form lurking by the table as he looked for something in a duffel bag. It was hard to decide what made her more nervous: looking at Dean, or not. Seeing as he hadn’t done anything particularly terrible to her or Shay, it was less nerve-wracking to not focus on the intimidating human.
“How can you deal with this?” Ziana muttered to Sam, throwing a look around the room. “Being out in the open–with him right there?”
To her surprise, Sam chuckled. “It wasn’t easy at first, I’ll admit. But he’s my brother. I trust him, and so can you.” At Ziana’s scoff, he leaned forward to give her a pointed look. “You must believe me at least a little, since you came here asking for help.”
“The question is,” Ziana said coolly, “are you going to give us help?”
His eyebrows raised incredulously. “Of course we are!”
“Even after I…” She couldn’t look at his black eye for more than a second before she trailed off and fixed her gaze back on Shay. “I mean, I got you pretty good. I sure as hell wouldn’t be helping anyone who did that to me.” She peeked at him in her peripherals, willing herself to shut up so she wouldn’t change his mind.
“Well, you’re the one who hit me,” Sam pointed out, grimacing as he touched the corner of the bruise. “Not Shay.”
Ziana gave a small start upon hearing him say Shay’s name. She supposed Dean had gone right ahead and told his brother their names while explaining the situation.
Her nerves wired once more when Dean approached again. She looked down at Shay’s face and stroked her hair, wondering how Shay would react to being out in the open the way she was. The night before, she hadn’t seemed completely against the idea of asking Sam and his giant supposed-brother for help, so that quelled some of Ziana’s guilt.
“We’re going to need to get that bandage off,” Sam said, drawing her attention back to him. “Maybe cut it off, by the looks of that knot.”
Dean knelt by the edge of the bed. Ziana leaned in the other direction automatically, turning her body to put Shay further out of his line of sight. He was more preoccupied with setting down some kind of bottle, a white roll of bandages, and a flat square package half Ziana’s height. He unrolled the fresh bandages, and Ziana’s eyes widened at the sight of the scissors he used to cut through the white cloth.
She gave Sam an alarmed frown. “No way. Not cutting Shay’s bandage off with those.”
“No,” Sam agreed, reaching into his jacket. “With this.”
He pulled out a knife far more intricate than any tool Ziana had ever seen. It was hard to focus on the finished handle when there was a glint of sharp silver protruding from it. She wondered if he had it on him when she pulled her needle out the night before. It was likely. If she had a nice weapon like that, she would never let it go.
A grimace split across Shay’s face when Sam started to cut away the bandage. Ziana would have wrenched her friend away if it weren’t for the risk of cutting Shay with the knife right by her arm.
“You’re hurting her!” Ziana slid one arm out from under Shay and snatched Sam’s wrist before he could go any further. She was relieved when he didn’t struggle and slice into Shay by accident.
Sam gave her a surprisingly patient look. “If it’s infected like you say, then getting this off of her is going to hurt her no matter what.”
“I suggest you let him finish that up if you want any of this ointment on her cut, sweetheart,” Dean put in. A chill ran down Ziana’s spine at the way his voice rumbled through her, and she let go of Sam’s wrist to stroke Shay’s hair agian.
Ziana squeezed her eyes shut when Sam peeled off the bandage completely. He made a soft noise of sympathy that sent her hopes sinking further. Still, she peeked at the wound and immediately felt last night’s meager dinner churn in her stomach. She looked at Sam’s face instead, noticing the way he glanced at her with concern.
“If you can’t handle it, I can try to clean it up and wrap it up.” His uncertain offer hung in the air for a long moment before Ziana nodded. She couldn’t even bear to look at the infected cut long enough to know how red it was, let alone focus long enough to clean it. Giving her a nod, Sam helped Ziana rest Shay all the way down on the bed. “I’ve never cleaned anything like this before, but I’m pretty sure I know what to do. It’s simple enough. I’ll clean it with the alcohol, spread some ointment on, and wrap the bandage.” Sam glanced up at Dean for confirmation before looking back at Ziana. “Alright?”
“Are you sure she’ll be okay?” Ziana squared her jaw, determined to salvage some confidence in her voice. Truth be told, she appreciated that Sam explained what he was going to do instead of getting right to it.
“The cut doesn’t look deep,” he said, sounding more sure of himself. “If it were worse, well… I don’t know how we would stitch it up. But this–it shouldn’t need more than what we have here.” He gestured at the supplies Dean provided, making Ziana inadvertently look at the human again. The look on his face was probably concerned, but she couldn’t help but see it as menacing.
But Sam had a reassuring vibe about him. Out of the shadows within the walls, he didn’t look quite so sinister. At this point, Ziana couldn’t see what he would gain from putting up a front, so she didn’t argue. “Let’s not waste any time, then,” she said.
In The Darkness Chapter 2
http://archiveofourown.org/works/5873077/chapters/13535248
Something evil is afoot in a small rural town in Midwestern America, and it’s up to Sam and Dean to find out what. With the help of a small woman named Zepheera, they’ll do their best to save the town and Zepheera’s time-travelling alien friend from the greatest evil the Winchesters have ever faced.
This is a contest entry for @nightmares06. It features characters from my Doctor Who/Borrowers crossover series ‘Borrowed Time (and Space)’ with a little tweak in Zepheera’s size to put her to Sam’s scale. This is not canon for BTAS and takes place sometime before Taken in Brothers Apart.
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 5/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest:http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
Nothing particularly suspicious had come up on the Internet so far in Dean’s search for a potential case, but he knew something would crop up eventually. Something always did. Still, with no next destination in mind yet, he and Sam had slept in a little later than usual before Dean started packing up to vacate the motel room.
That was, until he heard a shrill sound from somewhere behind him. He reached for his gun automatically, eyes darting to the bathroom, where he had left Sam minutes prior to wash up in the sink. The sound had come from somewhere low, but not from the door.
A distant voice followed the whistle. “Hey!” Dean turned slowly, locking his gaze on the nightstand as the voice piped up again. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, long legs!”
The volume of the voice left no doubt in Dean’s mind what–or rather who –was talking to him: a tiny person like Sam. He recalled the girl Sam had confessed to meeting the night before. The one that had given him a black eye.
Mindful of his comparatively big movements, Dean walked toward the nightstand and narrowed his eyes at the space between it and the bed, puzzled that someone so small would want to get his attention. He caught a movement in the shadows, the unmistakeable figure of a person, though there was something odd about the shape. Upon kneeling down in front of the gap between the furniture, Dean realized the figure looked strange because it was two figures.
One was limp in the other’s arms.
The conscious girl had shoulder-length brown hair and looked as pale as a sheet even in the shadows. She was primed to flee, shuffling in the direction of the nightstand.
“Hey now, you’re gonna go running off when you’re the one that called me?” Dean said, trying to keep his voice mild so he wouldn’t spook her away. By the looks of it, her friend wasn’t doing so hot.
The girl pursed her lips and straightened, but Dean had interacted with frightened victims from hunts enough long enough to know she worked hard to conceal terror and uncertainty under her stony expression.
“Does it look like I’m running off?” she grumbled. “I just don’t like the way you walk and talk so loud.”
“Right,” Dean said with a small laugh that made her stiffen. “And here I thought I was getting better after being with my brother.” He watched closely, noticing how she took the bait and tensed further upon Sam’s mention. “You didn’t happen to meet my brother, did you? Give him something, maybe?” Dean knew that he had all the power in the current situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to let the incident slide just yet. “A black eye?”
Her arms tightened under her friend’s shoulders and knees as she eyed Dean with matching suspicion. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible, but she held her ground with surprising valiance.
“I’m sorry for hitting your brother,” she said, grimacing as if the apology burned her tongue. “I saw him out here with you earlier, and I thought he was trying to trick us into getting captured.” She seemed to lose her nerve and stopped looking at Dean, focusing on her her friend’s face instead.
Dean cocked his head. “Something tells me you’re not just here to apologize.”
She shook her head. “Sam asked me if there was anything you two could do to help. Well, you can. I’m Ziana, and this is Shay. She has an infected cut, and you have some kind of medicine, don’t you? Please. She doesn’t deserve to be in this kind of pain. She… She’s a good person.”
Sympathy wormed through him as he leaned closer to get a better look at Shay’s face, stopping when Ziana shuffled the slightest distance toward the nightstand. No way he would turn down helping someone innocent, especially when these two were clearly down to their last resort. That didn’t mean he was crazy about having Sam’s attacker near Sam.
“Yeah, a good person, huh?” He gave Ziana a skeptical raise of his eyebrows. “And what about you?”
She finally lifted her head again for the sole purpose of giving him a flat look. “Me? I’m an asshole. But buddy, me and her a package deal.”
Despite everything, a smirk touched Dean’s lips. “Fair enough.”
He hesitated before reaching forward and laying a hand down just outside the gap between the nightstand and the bed. Ziana gasped and practically threw herself back against the wall, losing whatever composure she had managed to build up. Dean didn’t comment on it, trying to remind her instead why she had come out to ask for help in the first place.
“How did she get cut?” Dean asked, eyeing the crude cloth bandage on Shay’s upper arm.
“A-A nail in the wall a couple days ago.” Ziana leaned forward and then pulled back again, taking measured breaths. “She got a fever the next day and said she felt weak. Then she didn’t get up this morning, but she’s… Her heart’s still going, and she’s still breathing.” Looking from Dean’s face to his hand, she let out an agitated sigh. “What’s that for? Just bring me medicine, bandages, whatever she needs!”
“Well, you’re the one that brought her all the way out here,” he pointed out, curling his fingers in a beckoning gesture. “How much do you know about cleaning wounds?”
The look on her face said, not a thing, but he knew that she wouldn’t admit it. “How much do you know about cleaning wounds?” she challenged back.
“Listen, sweetheart, as fun as this is, we don’t have time for games. Your friend there could be fading fast for all you know, and you want to stand around arguing? I could give you medicine and bandages, but you and I don’t know how much time it’ll take for you to figure it out. Hell, I don’t even know exactly what she needs unless I see the cut for myself.”
Ziana didn’t answer this time, but he could see the mounting panic on her face as she made herself walk closer to his hand. He felt tug of guilt that he was being so pushy, but the infection could have Shay down to mere hours left, especially if she hadn’t even twitched from the sound of his and Ziana’s voices.
Stopping just short of the shadows, Ziana hesitated again, looking prepared to back-pedal to her starting point if Dean so much as breathed wrong. Even Dean was beginning to feel a slight flutter in his heart. He was getting used to carrying Sam around, but these were entirely different people he was dealing with now.
“You could just hand her over if you don’t want to be carried off yourself,” Dean suggested.
“Hand her over? To you? Like hell, long legs.” Ziana marched forward right onto Dean’s hand with as much grace as he would expect for someone climbing onto a hand for the first time. She stumbled every other step until she reached his palm.
It was then that she realized what she was doing. Her eyes ballooned as she looked up at Dean’s face and then at the lines of his palm beneath her. When his hand shifted, she dropped to a crouch and did a poor job of silencing a squeak of alarm. She knelt in the middle of his hand, tucking Shay close against her so that the unconscious girl wasn’t touching Dean at all. Ziana trembled and squeezed her eyes shut before ducking down with her face practically buried in Shay’s blond hair.
“Easy,” Dean murmured, rising carefully from the ground. “It’ll all be over in a second.”
Her head shot up. “What?”
“I didn’t mean all over, like–” Dean groaned and dragged his free hand down his face. “I mean, me carrying you. It’s over now, see?” He lowered his hand to the bed, keeping it as steady a platform as he could for Ziana to climb off.
She did so without a beat of hesitation, nearly tripping over her own feet on the surface of the bed. Rather than waste time with more assurances of his good intentions, Dean pulled his hand away and turned. Knowing that there was a nonexistent chance of Ziana allowing him lay a finger on Shay, he went to fetch Sam.
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 4/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest:http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
Ziana slept for a total of five minutes while sitting by Shay’s bed. Spending the majority of the day and evening scoping out rooms for food and non-existent medication took more out of her than she cared to admit, but she didn’t dare go to bed after her encounter with the man claiming to be brothers with a friendly human.
A stressful day overall.
She blinked hard and shook her head as she came out of her brief nap. Standing up, she stretched her sore arms over her head; that was what she got for sitting with her arms crossed so tightly for hours. Shay was curled up with her back to Ziana, the blanket pulled up to her chin.
Dim light filtered from one wall. The lamps were on in the motel room on the other side. It had to be morning at least, judging by the rumble of footsteps coming from the room. Ziana could only hope that meant the “brothers” were preparing to leave that morning. After all, Sam claimed they would only stay for one more night.
“Good morning,” Ziana said in a singsong voice, moving over to the table to scrape up some breakfast. Not for her; she could do without, but Shay needed to eat and keep her strength up if they wanted any hope of breaking that fever. “Looks like Sam decided not to have his human come rain hell on us.”
When she received no answer, she looked over her shoulder from the crinkly wrapper.
“Shay?” she called, a little louder.
A barely audible moan came in reply.
Dropping the crumbs on the table, Ziana rushed back to the bed and leaned over Shay to turn her over. Skin hotter than ever, Shay fluttered her eyelids a few times but couldn’t keep them open more than halfway before they drooped back shut.
“Shay? Say something, come on!” Ziana sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the other girl’s upper body into her arms, giving her a rough shake. “Come on!”
“M’sleepy,” Shay murmured, peering at Ziana from under her eyelashes. “Just… a little more sleep. I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t give me that! You know this isn’t okay!”
Ziana bit her lip and shifted Shay’s weight to one side so she could peek under the bandage on Shay’s upper right arm. Bracing herself, she lifted the edge of the wrapped cloth and almost gagged; the skin around the gash was angry red and swollen. She didn’t look at it long enough to be sure, but some nasty stuff seemed to have built up on and around it.
“Gross,” Ziana hissed, cradling Shay back into both arms. “I’ll look again today for some medicine. Hell, even an actual bandage. I swear, I won’t come back until I–Shay?”
The other girl’s eyes were no longer even at half-mast. Her eyelids didn’t so much as twitch in response to Ziana’s voice. The only signal that assured Shay was alive was the weak tickle of breath on Ziana’s neck. But who knew for how much longer that would last if they carried on like this, with no proper medication for the festering wound.
Maybe we can help, she remembered the man from the motel room saying.
“Shut up, Sam,” Ziana muttered, clutching Shay more protectively at the mere thought of the massive human stomping through the room just beyond the wall. Dean, Sam had called him.
Shay let out a soft, shuddering sigh like a whimper, her head falling limply against Ziana’s shoulder. Her breaths came slower, and she began to shake. For a few agonizing moments, Ziana sat there on the edge of the bed, aware that Shay’s skin could go from burning hot to icy cold in a matter of hours if she didn’t do something.
“Fine, fine, fine!”
There was nowhere else to turn. She secured one arm around Shay’s shoulders and slipped the other under her knees to scoop her up. Too desperate to change her mind there and then, Ziana rushed to the passage leading to Sam and Dean’s room.
~~~
By the time she reached the opening behind the nightstand, Ziana had considered going back home no less than a dozen times. It occurred to her that she hadn’t brought her climbing gear. Not that it mattered. Hauling Shay around meant that hooks and ropes weren’t going to do either of them any good. Still, she felt naked without her usual supplies. She wanted to kick herself for not grabbing her needle on the way out, at least.
If Sam was lying and Dean was the snatch-em-up type, she and Shay were royally screwed. But what else could she do? She couldn’t leave Shay to die, even if others would do just that rather than go to a human for help. She could barely handle watching Shay when she first broke out in a fever.
The floor shook again–a sure sign that Dean hadn’t left the room. The drone of the TV was mere background noise between the human’s stomping and Ziana’s instincts screaming in her head to flee back to safety.
A glance down at Shay’s troubled face was enough to force Ziana through the opening and walk along the edge of the wall. She moved out from behind the nightstand, but stayed hidden between it and the bed’s shadows.
The towering human stood by the far table, packing things up by the looks of it. Sam hadn’t been lying when he said they were only staying for that night, and it seemed neither of the “brothers” had pursued any interest in finding people in the walls after last night’s incident.
Ziana swallowed hard. “H-Hey,” she said, quieter than a mouse.
And then Dean’s boots were on the move.
Ziana held Shay tighter, biting back a cry and shoving her back against the wall, but the human didn’t move in her direction. In fact, it seemed he was still minding his own business. He hadn’t even heard her. She squared her shoulders and tried again when he stopped moving in front of the dresser.
“Hey.” It wasn’t much louder than the first time.
Again, she was ignored.
Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she bit down hard on her lower lip and released a long, shrill whistle to get his attention. “Hey!” she roared. The giant’s movements paused. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, long legs!”
The moment the words left her lips, Ziana realized she should have at least left Shay within the opening of the passageway until she could get a better read on Dean’s personality instead of carrying her vulnerable friend directly into danger. She should have grabbed her needle. She should have had a backup plan in case things went south.
She should have not yelled at a freaking giant.
But it was far too late to take it back and do it over. The boots turned and started for the nightstand.
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 3/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest:http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
The night proceeded as normally as it could for Sam–at least for a time. Dean took a break from glancing through the Internet for their next potential case when he answered the knock at the door to receive the Chinese food he ordered.
Try as Sam might to put the girl in the walls out of his thoughts, he couldn’t. He had noticed the particular way she stood, blocking his path with everything she had. There was something she didn’t want him to see, and it was easy enough to guess that she was protecting others of her kind–a difficult thing to do without alerting Sam of their existence in the process.
Instead of watching TV from the table he and his brother were eating dinner at, Sam stared absently at the chunk of spring roll he took from the styrofoam box Dean was shoveling noodles from. Dean’s hair was still dark and damp from the shower, and he hadn’t bothered asking if Sam had found anything interesting when he emerged from behind the nightstand earlier. Probably knew Sam would tell him if anything out of the ordinary happened.
“Seem a little quiet tonight, Sammy,” Dean commented, pulling Sam’s wandering mind away from the paths behind the drywall. “Still thinkin’ about the hunt?”
Sam blinked in confusion before he caught up with Dean’s question. He gave his brother a mildly sheepish look and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m not as used to hunting yet as I thought. But I’m fine. Nothing’s going to top the crazy of people being turned into gold.”
Dean snorted and finished his bite. “I dunno, things can get pretty wild out there.” He turned his head to smirk at Sam, but his brow furrowed suddenly. He set the plastic fork in the styrofoam box, bracing a hand on the edge of the table as he leaned closer to the surface.
Sam couldn’t help but go rigid at the approach of his brother’s enormous face. Instincts told him to get to his feet and back away, but he swiftly reminded himself that he didn’t need those instincts at the moment.
“What’s wrong with your eye?” Dean asked before Sam could inquire as to why his personal space was being invaded.
Bringing his fingertips under his eye, Sam clenched his jaw in surprise at how sensitive the skin was when he pressed on it. It had to be noticeable for Dean to catch something so comparatively small, but then again, he has the sharp eyes of the hunter. There was little he missed.
Seeing the fierce concern lining Dean’s face, Sam felt even less sure about revealing the girl’s presence, and especially the fact that she had attacked him. Even in the event that she hadn’t punched Sam, he felt guilt stir within him at the thought of alerting Dean of her existence when she was so visibly frightened of humans.
“I, uh, yeah, I ran into a piece of wood sticking out,” Sam said hurriedly, tripping over his words and turning away from Dean, as if hiding his black eye from view would make his brother forget about it and drop the subject. When he continued to feel the tingle on his neck from Dean’s stare, Sam added, “In the walls, you know? I didn’t see one of the lower beams on the passage.”
Glancing up briefly, Sam knew that Dean wouldn’t buy it for a second.
“That’s great, but what really happened?” Dean asked, a flat tone mingling with the worry.
Sam let out a slow breath and didn’t answer right away. He knew in his heart that Dean could be trusted, but that didn’t make it any easier to betray someone Sam’s own size. If the girl knew what he was doing, she would accuse him of sentencing her to death as payback for a black eye.
“There was… someone in the walls,” Sam admitted.
Dean’s frown deepened as he put two and two together. “You’re telling me they did that to you?”
“I scared her,” Sam insisted, doing his best to shift the blame away from her. “I saw her, and she ran away. I caught up and grabbed her shoulder.”
“So she gave you a black eye for that?”
Sam shrugged, thinking about the metal needle the girl had whipped out. He got out of the situation far more unscathed than the worst case scenario. His stomach twisted at the thought of having to get his own knife out and fight her. He had no doubt he would come out victorious, but that didn’t make him feel any better.
“It’s… It’s because she saw you.” Sam looked down from the surprised raise of Dean’s eyebrows. “She saw you in here with me and thought she was acting in self-defense when I ran after her. Probably thought I was trying to get her captured by you.”
The massive chair creaked as Dean leaned back into it with a heavy sigh that rustled Sam’s hair. “Sorry ‘bout that, then, Sammy.” Something of a rueful smile quirked on his lips, far more welcome to Sam than the deep frown he wore at the idea of someone attacking his little brother. “Guess it’ll be hard for you to make friends with me around.”
Sam allowed himself to relax a little. He had already known that what he told the girl was true: Dean wouldn’t hurt someone their size. Still, it was reassuring to have that promise proven by Dean himself.
“Neither of us knew she was watching,” Sam said, attempting to hide his disappointment that his chances of having a peaceful interaction with anyone in those specific walls was impossible at that point. “There’s bound to be others out there somewhere. I’ll come across more sooner or later.”
“Right,” Dean said encouragingly, but Sam could see the guilt brewing in those big green eyes. “That bruise doesn’t look so pretty, though. Lemme see if we can make figure out how to get some ice on that.”
Nowhere Else to Turn (Part 2/8)
( This is my entry for the @brothersapart 2016 Contest: http://brothersapart.tumblr.com/post/136391836334/brothers-apart-contest-2016 . Enjoy! )
Heart still pounding, Ziana navigated the short distance to her home. If Sam had come any deeper down the path, he might have found it. She wanted to kick herself for not heading in the opposite direction when she retreated upon being spotted. When he caught up to her, she thought for sure it was all over–all because of a stupid mistake. All because she had to go check if the human and his small companion would be checking out of the motel any time soon and put her mind at ease.
Falling to a crouch, she scooted off the edge of the wooden path to fall into the ‘foyer’ of her home. She removed her satchel and needle, blinking in the pale light that washed the low-ceilinged room beneath the floorboards. It was a modest place separated into three main sections: a general area for eating and food storage, and two bedrooms.
“You were talking to someone,” a voice rasped from the corner when Ziana walked into the far left bedroom. Shay sat up halfway in bed, propped on her elbows. Her arms arms shook, barely able to hold her torso up.
“Lay back down,” Ziana said with all the authority of a parent, though her friend was only a year younger than her. “It was nobody.”
The blonde flopped back down with a droll sigh, pushing in both sides of her pillow to fluff it up. “Well then, ‘Nobody’ has a deeper voice than yours. C’mon, who was it? New neighbors?”
“Just some guy.”
Ziana refused to look at her, feeling a stab of guilt at the tone of hopefulness in Shay’s voice. She set her satchel down on the lopsided table across from the bed and rummaged through it. Usually she would go straight to the pantries to store most of it, but Shay needed food now. As terrified as Ziana was to see a human shaking the floor in the next motel room over, that hadn’t stopped her from checking out the other rooms to scrounge up some food.
Still, she had messed up by letting Sam spot her. If she hadn’t known that he was hanging around with that human, she might have led him straight to Shay upon meeting him. After all, it would have never crossed her mind that someone their size was chummy with a giant.
What she wished at the moment, though, was that Shay had been sleeping like she was supposed to. Then she wouldn’t have heard Sam.
“Some guy?” Shay echoed, a faint smile in her voice. “What, did you try to flirt him into finding us some meds?”
Ziana gave a tight chuckle. “No. Just some guy. Just passing through.”
“Liar,” Shay insisted. “What’d he look like?”
“Oh, dreamy. Tall, brown hair, hazel eyes, and out of his damn mind.”
There was a pause, and even with her back turned, Ziana knew Shay’s smile fell. “Hey. Ziana, what’s going on?”
Ziana slammed the wrapped granola crumbs down on the makeshift table so hard that she was surprised it didn’t collapse. “He’s with a human,” she said, baring her teeth. “I saw them. They were talking. The human was holding him, carrying him around. The guy says his name’s Sam. He came to check if anyone was here, and now he knows.”
When the explanation was met with silence, Ziana sighed and made herself turn around. If Shay’s cheeks weren’t so flushed with fever, she would have been paler than pale.
“Then we need to get out of here,” Shay croaked, adjusting herself to sit up and put her legs over the side of the bed.
“No, no, no, you’re too sick.” Ziana rushed over to push her shoulders back down and yank the blanket back up. “Look, I gave the guy a black eye that I’m sure he’ll cherish for the next week or so, and I called him out on what he was trying to do. He left. I don’t think he’ll be bothering us anymore.” She tried to sound sure of herself, but Shay didn’t buy it.
“You punched a guy and he went back to his gigantic human friend? Oh yeah, nothing can go wrong there.” Nonetheless, Shay didn’t try to get up again. Her breaths came shorter, rife with agitation. “What did he say when you told him you knew?”
Ziana snorted a humorless laugh and stepped back to grab a sticky piece of granola for Shay–the biggest one she could get her hands on. “He tried to tell me that the human doesn’t want to hurt us, obviously. Then he tried to feed me some bullshit story that the human is his brother. I dunno, I think he was trying to throw me off. He probably would have offered to introduce me to the guy if I didn’t have my needle out.”
She helped Shay sit up before passing her the food so she wouldn’t choke on her meal. Exiting the room briefly, she returned from the kitchen with a half empty bottle cap of water, setting it carefully on Shay’s lap while she ate. Ziana pulled up a stool constructed from a block of wood next to the bed and sat down.
Munching pensively on her granola, Shay frowned at the thin blanket. “What if he’s telling the truth, though? I mean, the human is letting him walk around in the walls without worrying that he’ll run off. Doesn’t sound like something a human would do. Maybe he’s… different.”
She received a laugh in response. “This fever’s getting to you,” Ziana dismissed, giving Shay a playful tap on the side of her head.
“I’m serious,” Shay insisted, waving her off. “What if… I dunno, what if you asked Sam if his human could give us some medicine? Maybe we wouldn’t even have to meet the human! I mean, if he’s as nice as Sam says he is, wouldn’t he help?”
Ziana went quiet. She hadn’t even thought about that, seeing as she hadn’t considered for even a moment that Sam told the truth. Shaking her head, she brushed off the idea of that being possible. “So what if the human lets Sam walk around? The guy’s probably trained up so well that the human doesn’t have to worry about his pet running off. We’ve gotten through fevers before, Shay. You’re going to be fine without some human’s help. Got it?”
Shay licked her dry lips and gave Ziana a long, uncertain look that sent another wave a guilt through Ziana. What, is she not worth the risk? a voice taunted at the back of Ziana’s mind. You’ll let her suffer because you won’t take a chance? Selfish, selfish, selfish.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Shay murmured finally. “He’d probably just trap us.”
Blinking hard, Ziana nodded firmly.
After offering Ziana the rest of her food, Shay slid back down in the sheets and curled up on her side. Once her breaths evened out to a peaceful rhythm, Ziana pressed a hand to her cheek, dismayed to find Shay was burning up worse than ever. The bandaged gash on her arm was most certainly infected, and their best option for obtaining medicine was unthinkable.
Sighing, she ran her hand through Shay’s blond hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“You’re going to be fine,” Ziana whispered. “We don’t need them.”
Brothers Apart 