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 17th excerpt:

Dean handed up Sam’s iron nail. “Just in case.”

Sam took it, tucking it under one of his arms. The small nail was the size of a short sword to him, though fighting with it was better done by stabbing it at his enemy. Unless it was a spirit they were fighting, and all he needed to do was touch them with it to discorporate them.

It would work good if he manages to hit weak spots, like eyes. He’s got good enough aim where he could turn it to their advantage. Sam blinding the enemy and Dean taking them down.

Depending on who they’re using this against, they could find a lot of metal scrap for Sam to shoot. XD Painful.

Little Dreamer: Can you imagine for a second tiny Dean with a fork
Little Dreamer: Like
BorrowedTime24601B: xD he will fite
Neon: At least he can lift it, kinda
NekoNoKami23: “Fight the Faeries”
TorchMLP: don’t even try it, i know how to use this thing
Little Dreamer: You mess with my brother you better go for cover

May 8th excerpt:

Dean bumped into a chair. He froze in surprise, his entire body going rigid the same way Sam’s did when a light came on. A door clicked in the distance, and Dean pulled out his colt, prepared for the moment the thief came around the corner.

That never happened.

Instead, the man came up behind Dean. A bat flew out of the dark, smashing into Dean’s face. He was tossed onto his back with a grunt of pain, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion. He couldn’t pull his mind together enough to stop someone’s hands from grabbing him and shoving him into a chair. He couldn’t get his hands free before handcuffs snapped around his hands, anchoring him to the chair as the same was done with his legs while a rope was loosely wrapped around to keep him against the back of the chair. He couldn’t stop the duct tape when it was shoved over his mouth. Blood trickled down from his nose as the light overhead snapped on.

A sneering face leaned in close, bad breath all he could smell. “You thinkin’ to take dem back?” the thief leered at Dean. “I think I’ll be keepin’ these little sweets for myself. Better get yerself comfortable. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

image

They’ve innovated a few different types of weapons for him, including his hook, but this hasn’t occurred to them. Normally they stick to stuff that’s more useful against the monsters they hunt– Silver, iron, salt and such. This kind of thing would be more useful against rodents and people, and Sam’s grown used to his knife for defense.

(Legos are a form of torture implement)

Brothers Saved: Fighting Lessons

AU: Brothers Saved

Timeline: Sam is 10, Dean is 14; the day after Dean wakes up for the first time.


“Did Dad show you how to defend yourself?”

Dean stood on the table in the kitchen of Bobby’s house, his arms crossed tight around his chest. He was doing what he could to avoid showing how nervous he was here, surrounded by everything looming overhead.

Including Sam, but the wide look in those hazel eyes was ground for Dean, keeping him focused away from how his little brother had turned into a Godzilla.

‘N-no,” Sam said, fidgeting where he sat.

For a moment, Dean wished their roles were reversed. It was fleeting, because he’d never want his little brother in harm’s way, and having Sam full sized and uncursed meant Dean had done his job right, but it also meant that Sam was the one who would need to protect them if anything happened.

“Dad was too busy when they left,” Sam told him. “He told me to keep the house shut tight and Bobby said go to the basement if anything bad happens, and keep you with me. Bobby gave me this.”

From his jacket, Sam pulled out a gun. Dean stiffened, more from the sight of Sam holding a gun than from the size of it. His little brother knew how to shoot, but having Sam carry around a concealed weapon…

It just felt wrong.

For so long Dean had tried to protect Sam from this lifestyle, and now it had risen up to consume them both in return.

Sam put the gun down on the table not far from Dean, and the surface shuddered under his boots. Instinctively, Dean ducked against the side of the nearby soda can, his small hands soaked instantly in condensation.

He was not going to get used to that.

Sam drew away, worry dancing in his eyes for Dean’s skittish reaction. Dean chose to pretend it never happened, strolling casually over to the gun.

Bobby kept all his weapons in good repair, and this one was no different. The cool metal gleamed at Dean as he reached into his own jacket, pulling out his trusty colt. The gun had been cursed with him, though he would never be able to restock the bullets inside or repair it. Eventually, there would be no way for Dean to use it and it would become nothing more than a curiosity.

Like me, shot an annoyed voice at Dean in his mind that he had to shrug off.

Dean held up his colt to the big one, comparing the sheer scale difference. It was a long moment before he tucked his away, always so fascinated, once he was past the shock, at how strange everything seemed after the curse took effect.

Turning sharply on his heel, Dean regarded Sam sternly, almost making the younger boy jolt to attention. “Shooting guns is one thing,” he said, “but you need to know how to defend yourself when you don’t have a gun, or if you lost it. Once Dad gets back, you need to ask him for some hand to hand combat lessons.”

Sam stuck a lip out. “But I don’t want to learn from Dad!” he complained. “He’s always so bossy, and he never listens.”

Dean certainly didn’t have any defenses against Sam when those big warm hazels were turned around on him. “Can’t you teach me?”

For a long moment, Dean stood there with a look of shock on his face. Normally, training Sam himself would be the first thing he thought of, but now… Sam could pluck him up between two fingers. How could he possibly teach combat?

“S-Sam,” Dean started uncertainly, “I don’t think that’s going to work. I mean, you’re–” he gestured up at Sam and how he looked overhead even sitting down, “and I’m –” Dean stepped back to the soda can, cutting a hand across the condensation to display how he would never reach the top.

“So?” Sam blurted, then covered his mouth when the volume made Dean flinch. “S-sorry…” He hunkered his shoulders. “I just– you’re really good at teaching. If you just show me what to do… I learn fast, honest!”

Dean’s eyes softened. Despite his protests, there was something warm and good inside his chest to hear that Sam still wanted him as a teacher.

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever you want.”

Hours later, they could be found just like that. Dean standing on the table, showing off a combat move as best he could without someone to practice on, and Sam mimicking him.

Dean was proud to say that Sam was just as quick of a learner as he’d promised.


These story parts might go in no particular order, so there’s a chance you’ll see things from the night before later on. I’m just writing as they come to me.

Asks and prompts open for this AU!  

April 7th excerpt:

With Sam and Jacob stowed away in one pocket, and Bowman kicking pointedly at him in the other, Dean climbed out of the Impala. No one would be able to tell from his casual swagger that not only did he have three miniature passengers hidden on his person, he also carried a small arsenal.

March 12th excerpt:

Sam settled into the crook of his neck for stability as he started walking, heading carefully out of the village. Bowman swooped ahead of the hunter, waiting as Dean grabbed his duffel bag from the ground. It hadn’t been any use so far, but he could never be too prepared in his line of work. He’d learned to keep whatever weapons he could on hand, especially when he had no idea what they might be facing.

February 13th excerpt:

Logan tromped to the center of the clearing so he could get a good view of the sky. “I’ll get a fire going,” he determined, glancing back to Dean, standing there with a duffel bag full of weapons and a sprite in a jar, casual as could be. What the hell?