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Masterpost of Stories

New masterpost journal! With a growing amount of stories and a huge amount of chapters, I've switched to listing the first chapter of each story. Within each chapter you will find links to the following chapters. :heart:

Recent update: All the one word prompts posted to DA so far added in their requisite sections, and a section added for Brothers Adopted with the prompt prequels to the series that were posted this week.

Season 1

Sam was hit with a witch’s curse when he was 10 and Dean was 14. Unable to find him or his attacker anywhere when the dust settled, John and Dean Winchester were eventually forced to give him up for dead. Unbeknownst to them, Sam was saved from the witch and adopted into a new family, and they’ve trained him to take care of himself as best he can in the world, and protected him from the witch’s gaze all these years. And now… 

After being separated for over a decade, Sam and Dean are still trying to get used to living with each other again. Four inch tall Sam is just starting to adjust to living with a gigantic human when they find something in Dean’s pocket that sets them on the road with a new case. 

After a routine salt and burn the boys decide to take the night off. Drinking with a four inch tall brother ends with
some interesting times.

Part 4Home

A disturbing dream drives the brothers back to the one place they never thought they’d go again… home. 

Footsteps follow a girl up the stairs in her apartment and fate hands the brothers a very strange case to solve. While on the hunt, Sam has to come to terms with his size in new ways. 

After John calls up Sam and Dean out of the blue, the boys get into a fight, resulting in Dean off on another hunt and Sam storming off… under the bench seat of the Impala. 

Part 7: Taken

The brothers are working an easy case in Hibbing, Minnesota when they’re reminded just how delicate their situation is. The reminder? A cold bucket of water in the face for Dean, and a world of trouble for Sam. 

Season 2

Part 8The Schism of Fire and Water

After two months spent waiting for Sam’s arm to heal, both brothers are getting cabin fever. An unusual string of natural disasters a state over gets them back on the road with a unique case. 

Part 9: Adventures at Bobby's

Sam is healed and the sprites are stopped. But not everything is back to normal in the life of the Winchesters. They have things to figure out and an Impala to fix before they can get back to hunting. 

Part 10A Lich of Sense
--Cowritten by the lovely PL1--

What happens when you have Winchesters in the Wellwood? A bad day for Bowman Leafwing, as an encounter with a certain hunter and his brother goes awry, and zombie wolves move into the forest.

Short stories of Brothers Apart:

Things are looking grim for Walt when he's captured by humans and trapped in a cage... what does fate hold in store for the man that stands under four inches tall?

Brothers Apart Side Story || Out of the Frying Pan
One day, the motel that Garen lived in with his family decided to call pest control. Now, no one's safe and he has to try to get everyone out of the building without being seen. What does fate have in store for them?

Celeste may not show her face around the Winchesters often, but she's always up to something.

Welcoming a child into the world is complicated when you stand under four inches in height tall.

Walt can do many things, but resisting Mallory is not one of them.

Dreams are all Bree has during her years of captivity.

Mallory taught Krissy how to sew from a young age.

Alyssa has spent her entire life living in the wilderness, and takes the joys she can find to her father.

A young Rumsfeld discovers the burrow, and protects it.

A water sprite may rue the legends of fairies granting wishes when she's mistaken for a different kind of fae.

Kara sees someone that might be able to help her save her daddy from the humans that took him.

Krissy wanders the vents to think things through and finds herself above Dean's room.

Kara and Sean play pretend right before bed.

Brothers Apart - What is Sam?

The Characters of Brothers Apart:

Brothers Lost

--Series cowritten by the lovely PL1--

Part 1The Road Not Taken

Saving people. Hunting things.

It was what they were supposed to
 do. Who they were supposed to be. Instead, that life was stolen from them by a witch and a curse in childhood, stripped away and replaced by one goal: 


Short stories of Brothers Lost:

A Ghost from the Past (11 x 17) || A Ghost From the Past (11 x 17) 2 

A familiar face comes to visit Sam when he’s lying on Death’s door, only he’s looking a little… shorter than normal.

Brothers Adopted

--Series cowritten by the lovely PL1--

Short Stories of Brothers Adopted:

Ice Cream 

Celeste finds her next mark near Trails West while watching the neighborhood children flock out to get ice cream.

A Friendly Neighborhood by PL1

Just fourteen years old, Jacob Andris is on a road trip with his mother.

Brothers Together

Dean Rescues Sam

What if instead of Walt and Mallory rescuing Sam when he got cursed, Dean and John were able to find him before the witch took off?

Hershey Kisses and Salt Lines
--Cowritten by the lovely PL1--

A month has passed since Sam was cursed, and there's no cure in sight. He and Dean are left on their own during one of John's hunts to go to school and do their best to get by. After all this time, Sam's no more used to being small than he was before, and when Dean catches an unexpected visitor he gets the chance to learn all about his new size.

Brothers Unexpected

Pinky Promise 
by PL1

Sam finds someone unexpected in the motel room their dad left them in... someone who's more afraid of Sam than he is of them.

Other Supernatural GT stories:

A girl goes missing from Indiana while on the phone with her sister, screaming about giant, killer cats. Now Dean and Sam have to unravel this mystery before Dean's next on the menu! 

On a missing persons case in PA, Sam finds more than he bargained for. In the meantime, Dean has to find a way to get his brother back to normal.

Short Stories

The Dollhouse

Sam and Dean are on a regular salt and burn to find a missing girl when they discover a haunted dollhouse - and Sam's about to become one of the dolls!


After being attacked in her own room, Erin wakes up to everything different. With nowhere safe to run, what will become of her?

A Ghost from the Past (11 x 17)

A familiar face comes to visit Sam when he’s lying on Death’s door, only he’s looking a little… shorter than normal.

Don't You Cry No More

Sam inherited the Impala after Dean's death and finds that for some people, death isn't the end.


Things are looking grim for Walt when he's captured by humans and trapped in a cage... what does fate hold in store for the man that stands under four inches tall?

Dean Rescues Sam
What if instead of Walt and Mallory rescuing Sam when he got cursed, Dean and John were able to find him before the witch took off?

Cursed Dean
What would happen if Dean had been the one to get cursed when Sam was attacked in that motel room?

I love how Dean interacts with the kids! How about a short story about the kids using sleeping Dean as a playground.

The Incredible Shrinking Winchester
What if a new stage of the curse set in and Sam shrunk even more? How would he and Dean deal with that?

A Dwindling Perspective by the wonderful TorchMLP
Sam's shrinking doesn't end when Bobby and Dean lose sight of him...

The Climbing Bet
I always thought for a fun idea, have Sam try to climb up a bookshelf or vanity to show off to Dean.

Walt vs. Dean
So Dean keeps worrying about what would've happened if it hadn't been Sam he found in that motel room, but had been some other little person. What *would* have happened if it had been someone else - Krissy, or Walt, or Mallory?

The Cat
Will Sam ever face a cat? That won't be a good experience!

Family Movie Night
You know what would be really cute? Dean hosting a movie night for Sam and the family, complete with freshly made popcorn for the kids and a big pillow for them to relax on.

Ant Man
Yo how about Sam being pumped to see Ant Man!!!

Co-Written Stories

The Comeback Kid
--Cowritten by the lovely Obsess-Confess--

On a case out in California, troubles afoot when Sam falls asleep in the Impala and Dean comes out to find his baby - and his baby brother - a little... different.

An Appreciation for the Sun
--Cowritten by the lovely PL1--

Castiel finds himself wandering the earth after the events surrounding Samhain's resurrection, and finds someone he didn't expect.

Supernatural Stories

Don't You Cry No More 
Sam inherits the Impala after Dean's death and finds that for some people, death isn't the end.


Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am a fractalist, who loves to use Apophysis in all its varieties. I also write on the side.

The three main AUs (so far) have premiered! What's everyone's favorite so far? 

20 deviants said Brothers Adopted
13 deviants said Brothers Lost
10 deviants said Brothers Found

And the winner is...

Journal Entry: Sat Nov 26, 2016, 9:52 AM

Like a Moth to Flame!

Something ancient is stalking people in town, and now it has its sights set on a certain pair of hunters in town. Sam and Dean find more to handle than they ever expected, and an evil that sets them against each other.

Presenting the twelfth story of Brothers Apart!

Sneak Peek:

"Raise," Dean said confidently, pushing his chips to the center.

The man across from him fidgeted at that, staring out at the five cards aligned on the table. Out there sat two aces... he knew that if Dean had the other two, it was all over for him. Even if Dean only had one ace, the guy risked going up against a full house.

Dean stared solidly back, his years of hunting serving him well and hiding his own tells. Out of everyone watching the game, the only person that could call his bluff was currently concealed in his chest pocket.

Sam, barely four inches tall, was adept at reading facial expressions. His small size meant that every little twitch and uncertain flicker that passed over Dean's face, or any other human's face, was easy for the small hunter to read.

Normally, Sam never came out to a bar like this. A rowdy bar scene wasn’t a safe place for him to relax and hang out with Dean. Plus, there was no way for him to enjoy a drink with his older brother, since he couldn’t risk coming out of the pocket. But this trip wasn't just for relaxing and building up their stack of emergency cash.

This was for training. 

Story begins 11/29/16 at 9pm est!

What Story Next - Like a Moth to Flame by nightmares06

Like a Moth to Flame dominated this one, no contest.

After this story, we will be skipping the poll for the next round! Sam of Wellwood will post since it has hung around in the poll long enough, and then we’ll be adding some fun new stories to vote on afterwards.

Journal Layout By LaraRules81
Stamps By rainbowkittyfuk


nightmares06 has started a donation pool!
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Any donations earn you a feature on my page of my favorite 3 pics from your gallery! Otherwise I shall continue to feature what I please! ;p

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Only a minute into the drive to the MacDavis’ house, Sam found his peaceful time in the pocket infringed upon by grasping fingers. He tried to squirm free on principal but found himself lifted out regardless of his struggles.

Dude,” Dean said, cutting off Sam’s protest before he could even gather enough breath to start. “Check it out.”

Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden onslaught of bright light out in the free air. He was definitely adjusted to the dark of the pocket more than the outside world. His vision began to clear up and the bright white light resolved into actual surroundings, including Dean and... His eyes blew open wide when he spotted what Dean was gesturing at, one hand still on the wheel as the Impala drove by at a crawl.

On the left side of the road, in the center between the two lanes, stood a statue. Even in the daylight it was tall, dark and foreboding. Faceted red eyes gleamed at the world around them, catching the sunlight and reflecting it back at the passerby around. One family was standing nearby, a mother taking a photo of her two children next to the cryptid.

“Moth… man?” Sam read out loud, staring at the plaque in front of the statue. The people outside were too distracted by the towering statue to pay any attention to the fact that inside the classic car that was rolling by, a four inch man stood on the driver’s hand. He crossed his arms. “Weren’t there legends about the mothman in West Virginia?”

Dean bobbed his head and sped the Impala up from its crawl. “Not only West Virginia, but the very same town we’re in right now. I saw some articles on it earlier when I was waiting for you to finish up getting ready.” A smirk graced his face as he remembered the prank he’d played on Sam after they’d arrived at the motel. “This town got on the map because of those legends.”

After a moment, he pushed those thoughts away and focused on what he’d learned. “It’s seen as a herald of tragedy. Way back in ‘66, ‘67, there were several sightings of it, seen across all of Point Pleasant. People spoke of hearing beating wings, they mentioned its red eyes. My absolute favorite article I saw about it was the first one that was written. ‘Couples See Man-Sized Bird… Creature… Something.’ ” Dean shook his head ruefully before continuing on. “In fact, the collapse of the Silver Bridge was blamed on the creature after the accident, and it vanished afterwards.”

He turned the wheel of the Impala, angling towards the family home. “People said that it could be hallucinations, a big heron that was mistaken as a man… the red eyes were blamed on the light reflecting back at the witnesses. But the legends grew, even after it vanished.”

Sam pursed his lips as he thought it over. “I’ll have to check out the stories you found,” he decided in the end. Whether it had anything to do with their case or not, he wanted to learn all he could about strange, supernatural happenings and this certainly fit the bill. Like their father’s leather journal was a wealth of useful information, Sam wanted to fill his own journal with all that he learned.

“You got it, gigantor.” Dean shot a grin at Sam for his mix-up with the nicknames.

Sam had to roll his eyes at that. Ever since that strange Spirit dream they’d received at the Wellwood, he’d gotten teased for being the ‘taller’ brother, no matter that he fit in Dean’s hand. If they ever got him back to normal, he’d tower over his brother and his father both, standing at least six foot three or four inches tall. Inches taller than Dean himself, a man that Sam was used to seeing loom over his head.

As Dean lowered him back into the dark pocket, he tried to imagine what that would have been like if he’d been normal going to the Wellwood. Bowman, smaller than his own hand instead of having a wingspan larger than Sam’s body. Being unable to see inside of the small homes grown into the trees with the sprites’ ‘Prayer,’ their way of connecting with the Spirit that created them and borrowing Her magic. A magic that had healed Dean before the hunter had lashed out and attacked the innocents around them, his mind almost stolen away by the poison of the lich that had been hunting the sprites down. If it had taken Dean away from Sam, no one would have been safe in the end.

Of course, if he was normal sized, he might have been able to stave that off even if Dean did snap. He would be big enough that a punch from Dean would only rock him on his feet. He could wrap his hands around Dean’s wrists, hold him down, give the sprites the time they needed to heal him and take that poison away. As it was, he’d managed to draw Dean out of his trance just long enough with his voice and his support, even as the hunter treated him like nothing more than a curiosity, blind to the fact that it was his own brother he had clutched in his hand.

Those memories continued to haunt Dean. Sam could see it in the occasional glimpse he caught of those solemn green eyes staring at him. Dean always wanted to make sure Sam was okay when he thought he wasn’t looking. He always forgot Sam could tell when he was being watched.

Sam settled into the pocket, listening to the sounds of the outside world. The rumble of the engine was comforting as it responded to Dean’s touch outside. He let his head fall against the side of the pocket resting against the human’s side and let the residual body heat keep him warm.

It only took another three minutes before the Impala rolled to a stop. Sam stared up at the top of the pocket, wishing he could see out without putting himself in harm’s way. But he’d have to keep his head down, especially in a house like the one they were going into. Dean or no Dean, this house was full of kids.

Sam understood that his fear might seem silly to a human like his brother. But a kid, if they ran into Dean, would only bounce off the massive hunter. They couldn’t grab him in a hand, and a single wrong move wouldn’t break his arm or crush his body.

Sam understood well enough that most children wouldn’t hurt him. They’d be undeniably fascinated with him because of his size. Hell, half the time Dean was fascinated by him, even after all this time. Sam never complained about it, considering the way he himself was equally fascinated by the fact that he was small enough to fit into a pocket, of all things. Plus, he’d had longer to adjust to his new perspective than Dean had to adjust to the fact that his brother was a Polly freakin’ Pocket, of all things, as Dean put it so eloquently. So he’d give Dean a pass for staring, at least as long as he wasn’t bothering him. Even the tingle on the back of his neck was subdued with Dean, his gift understanding no harm was meant.

There were some children (and adults, of course), that Sam would need to avoid. He was the size of a toy. Younger kids wouldn’t care that he could talk; in fact, that would make him all the more interesting for playing with. Kids under three also had a habit of putting things that were in their hands into their mouths.

Sam had no intention of ever finding out what that was like. Dean teasing in a cup of beer was as close as he ever wanted to go to a mouth so long as he was small enough to fit inside.

Other kids, older kids, would think of him as more of a possession. A pet. Something interesting like a parrot or a snake. Not a person with his own rights.

He severely wished that more kids were like Sari, the little girl that had lived in his old childhood home. That way the stupid fear he had of them could screw itself and go away.

The engine shut down and Dean climbed out of the car. Sam flinched at the booming power of the door slamming shut behind the hunter. No matter how many times he heard that, or the sound of a gunshot, it went right through him, rattling his skeleton and even making him go numb if it was loud enough. A gun going off could temporarily deafen him at his smaller size. Hearing was sensitive in a person the size of a hand. Loud voices were bad enough; a gun going off was overkill.

Dean’s swaying stride rocked the suit pocket from side to side as he ambled casually up the walkway to the house in question. Sam simply threaded his fingers into the sides of the pocket, holding himself in place. After over a year of traveling like this, he was practically an expert at it. He wasn’t thrown off balance at all, not even when Dean came to a halt and the momentum of the jacket was tossed forward a few inches only to fall back down.

A sonorous doorbell rang out overhead and the sound of children running by the door made it to Sam’s ears. “Momma!” he heard in the distance. “Momma! There’s a man at the door!”

Even Sam couldn’t hide a smile at the sound of the innocent voices. The family had been through so much, but they still had energy and exuberance to share. The severity of what had happened must not have sunk in…

Or they haven’t been told their dad’s dead, Sam realized belatedly.

As the door opened to the inside of the house, Sam pounded out a message against Dean’s side, hoping he wasn’t too late. Dean was a fantastic hunter, but certain subtleties went over his head. He might be a master at lore and piecing together patterns, but when it came to people that weren’t women he was hitting on… he was lacking a certain empathy for them.

Not that he didn’t do his best. Dean had a great way with kids, even kids that were smaller than his fingers. Vel and Kara were clear proof of that. But this kind of thing… this was more up Sam’s alley.

He finished up the message as a melodious voice welcomed Dean. “Hello? How can I help you?”

Dean shifted, making the pocket with Sam in it start swinging all over again. Hopefully he’d gotten the message. “You must be Marissa.” A pause came where she must have confirmed the fact with a nod. “My name’s Tom Shaw.” Yet another pause came as he must have been showing her his fake ID, most likely the FBI badge he’d made himself.

Unfortunately, in the pocket, Sam missed out on a lot of context.

“I, ah… I’m here to talk to you about the events concerning your… accident the other day.”

Must have got the message, Sam thought to himself, relieved. The new Morse Code method they’d worked up between each other was working out just the way he’d hoped. He could ‘talk’ to Dean when he thought of something, and if Dean need to, he could ‘talk’ back by drumming his fingers against the pocket. Hard enough for Sam to interpret, but light enough that a tap wouldn't hurt the smaller hunter if it was misplaced.

“Of… course. Come in, please.”

For the next few minutes, Dean was relocated to the kitchen of the house and the mother could be heard in the background, sending the children upstairs to keep out of the way. The tension that had built up in Sam’s shoulders leaked away. He knew there was no reason to be nervous since Dean was so close by and not about to let any kids close to his little brother, but the feeling was always there nonetheless.

While they were left on their own, Dean did a sweep of the room to see if he could find any hexbags. It wasn’t normal for a witch to kill a target in a way that put the entire family in danger, but neither of them wanted to take any chances. There was always the possibility of an evil bitch out there that had it out for the entire MacDavis clan.

The elegant tap of Marissa’s shoes could be heard coming back again. With the kids upstairs and out of sight, Sam pulled himself up in the pocket. Daringly, he decided to push open the top and peer out, curious about everything that was going on outside.

Dean gave Marissa a smile as she handed him a glass of water. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know… it’s a bad time.” He ignored the shifting from his side, already knowing that Sam would be trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. If the mother’s eyes even ventured near the pocket he’d just drop his hand and cover up the opening.

Marissa’s eyes were red-rimmed as she blinked at Dean. “S-sorry,” she managed to get out as she blew her nose on a tissue, trying to compose herself.

Dean waved off her apologies. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry I have to bother you so soon after your tragedy.” He straightened in his seat as she perched on a matching stool across the counter.

“They never tell you how to break it to your kids,” she mumbled into the sodden tissue. “There’s no book out there to make this easier.”

Dean shifted in his seat as she blew her nose all over again, glad Sam had managed to get that message across to him before he got himself snared in a snake’s nest. Even stuck in a pocket all day, Sam was invaluable on a case. “Kids are tough,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Tougher than a lot of people give them credit for. They might end up surprising you.”

“Maybe…” she said in a soft, thoughtful voice. Blinking her eyes to clear them, she tried to focus on the stranger she’d welcomed into her home. “W-why does the FBI care about what happened to Mike? It was just a suicide attempt… right?”

Dean steepled his fingers and leaned forward in his seat. His intensity conveyed how important his words would be. “What concerns us is what happened before the suicide. From all accounts I’ve read, something like this should not have happened.”

Her grip on the tissue increased. “What are you trying to say, Tom?” she asked tightly. Her knuckles began to turn white from the pressure she had on that bedraggled tissue.

Dean’s demeanor didn’t waver. “We’re not accusing him of anything,” he said, keeping a reassuring tone of voice the entire time, “but the possibility of an outside force controlling his actions isn’t something we can just brush aside.”

He put a hand on hers. Once again he found himself wishing he had Sam’s easy way about him, replacing intensity with empathy. People just wanted to trust the younger brother and if Dean could only channel that ability, he’d be set on cases. The sprites had warmed right up to Sam, despite his blunder in telling them they were hunters. The word had a bad association for them. Apparently a hunter, a normal, run-of-the-mill game hunter, had attacked the village a year before, and he didn't care about the innocents he was threatening.

“If there was something influencing him, we want to trace it back to its source and make sure no other families suffer the way yours did.”

Slender fingers, as cold as ice, recoiled from his warm touch. “Like… drugs?” Her dark eyes took in Dean’s, a prayer in them for the accident to not be McD’s fault as clear as a bell.

Whatever she got out of Dean’s expressionless face she took as confirmation. She nodded. “Okay. What did you need to know?”
Like a Moth to Flame 4
CHAPTER 4: How Do I Tell Them

Morse code is put to use, and Dean will listen to Sam without question on a hunt. What brothers! They've finally pulled themselves away from their prank war for work.

Please comment!

Note for all who follow the tumblr: This is the story that i had a falling out with my editor over, and the story used to be much different before that falling out. The original beginning is posted on the tumblr here. That is all.

PL1 is my beautiful beta reader for this seat of your pants fic!

If you're looking to read the series from the beginning, visit Brothers Apart 1!

Previous story: Calling John Bonham

First: Like a Moth to Flame 1

Previous: Like a Moth to Flame 3

Next: December 8th, 2016

For more Brothers Apart and other Supernatural Gt stories:

Masterpost of Stories


I do not own Sam, Dean or any part of Supernatural. The storyline and all other characters is the property ofnightmares06. Please do not repost. :iconsambitchfaceplz:

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Sam discovered that the best part about being stuck in Dean’s chest pocket when they found a rest stop along the highway was having a front row seat to how his prank was going over.

He didn’t even think Dean had figured out what was bothering him yet. There was a faint hitch in his step as he got out of the car and started towards the fast food restaurant. If Sam had been anyone else and if he hadn’t been expecting it, he might not have noticed either. But it was there, and Dean’s normal smooth pace was broken.

He choked back a laugh, knowing that would ruin the prank. Dean had no idea that his boots had a small addition to them, and he needed to stretch this for as long as he could. That would make the prank even better. It was the first time Sam had thought up something he could use against his brother. Considering the fact that Dean was the size of a building, it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. He had to be inventive.

While at the rest stop, Dean grabbed them some grub and refilled the Impala. All the while, his normal gait had that unusual hitch, like every step was more uncomfortable than the last. Sam waited for the moment he’d bend down and discover the socks that were padded around the inside of the boots, but it never came. He continued on like everything was normal-- flirting with the girl at the counter like it was second nature, browsing through skin mags when he thought Sam wasn’t looking.

By the time they got to the car with the bags of food, Dean was grumbling to himself. He opened up the flap over Sam’s head. “I think I need a new pair of boots,” he growled as he scooped Sam onto his hand.

That was when Sam finally broke down into snorts of laughter. Dean’s eyebrows scrunched together, his eyes flashing between the boots and Sam. There was a slowly dawning suspicion in them as he finally realized that Sam had something to do with it. “You?” he asked.

The hand tilted and Sam dropped right back into the pocket, but he didn’t stop laughing as he heard Dean taking off his boots outside the fabric walls.

“Really, dude?” came through loud and clear with the way he was up against Dean’s chest.

Sam finally managed to stop laughing, but talking took a few more moments of recovery. He wheezed, trying to catch his breath as he pushed himself up to a sitting position inside the folds of light blue fabric. “What, you didn’t think I’d let you get away with that shit you pulled with the keys this morning, did you?” He shoved at the wall behind him to give his words emphasis. “Don’t mess with forces you don’t understand!”

Dean’s own chuckles filled the air, and then something roughly pushed Sam up against the wall, making him grumble. “Oh, maybe next time I’ll just leave my socks next to your bed at night. Since, y’know, you seem to like having them around so much.”

There were a few more pats against the outside of the pocket before Dean let up and Sam slumped back down to the bottom. He sprang up on his feet as soon as he was certain they wouldn’t give out beneath him. “You better not,” he threatened as he pushed the flap of the pocket up over his head. “Or I’ll havta find a better revenge.”

“Ooo, I’m shaking in my boots.” Dean dug through his bag of food, finding the side salad he’d grabbed for Sam inside. “You’re lucky you’ve got me, pint-size.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a heartfelt sigh. “Don’t let it go to your head, jerk.” He pulled himself over the edge of the pocket and let himself drop to the leg below. Dean naturally wasn't going to make things easier on him. From there he hopped over to the other and finally climbed down to the bench seat of the Impala, his goal before him. The edge of the container of salad was at waist height, so he had to hop over it in order to reach the food he was after.

He caught Dean sending him a strange look from above and sent his own right back. Dean returned his attention to his breakfast sandwich and Sam gathered up some lettuce and tomato. They set into their snacks.

No one outside noticed the four inch tall man that was sitting down on the seat next to Dean the entire time.

The trip to Point Pleasant took over two days. Dean found himself trying to think up a prank to pay Sam back for his little boot fiasco. It was hard to believe that the four inch man had managed to pull it off without Dean noticing. That was the kicker.

The kid definitely had balls for his size. Dean couldn’t imagine actually climbing into a set of giant boots like that for the sake of pulling a prank on his brother. What if Dean had returned early and picked the boots up with Sam still inside? He could just see Sam tumbling inside the confines of the boots, grumbling all the while and blaming Dean for all of it no matter that it was his own damn fault.

It wasn’t until they found a local motel in town that he finally came up with a plan to get Sam back. While his younger brother was under the nightstand, setting up his small area and his desk, Dean mucked about in the bathroom, getting ready.

He needed to find the right moment for it.

Currently, both brothers were simply settling into the motel. Before going to interview the family of the victim, Dean more than needed a shower after the night at the bar and sleeping in the Impala, and it wouldn’t hurt for Sam to have some time to himself, either.

After Dean had finished his shower, he’d seen it as the best time to get some payback on his little brother. Everything was calm, nothing was going nuts or breaking down and there were no sprites trying to roast their asses or berate them for every move they made. Sam’s guard was down.

When he hadn’t heard anything come from under the nightstand for a few minutes, Dean decided it was time. His boots were off, tossed against the wall by the television. With them gone, his normal stalk went from ‘hard to notice’ to ‘nigh undetectable,’ even by Sam’s standards. The only part that might give him away was the slight tremble of the floor under the nightstand when he walked around, something that wouldn’t even occur to Dean.

Lucky for him, Sam pushed that to the back of his mind as ‘background noise’ when it was just the two brothers hanging around. It was just part of living with a brother that outsized him by almost twenty times. Nothing that even mattered, as long as he wasn’t underfoot.

Dean took care to keep his shadow from falling across the front of the nightstand as he crawled into his own bed. The thing he lowered down in front of the exit by the books wouldn’t be visible to Sam with the small wood panel overhang that jutted out from the bottom shelf.

Scrunching his eyes shut and hoping, he lowered it all the way to the ground and managed to keep it from making a sound as it touched down on the carpet.

Now all he had to do was wait.

With everything in place, Dean stretched out in bed and opened up the laptop to browse through the town history. He needed to see if there were any other strange occurrences in Point Pleasant.

Less than thirty seconds into his search, a hit came up.

Sam stretched his arms over his head as he finished washing the last of his dirty clothes. Sets of jeans, jackets and t-shirts, all lovingly crafted by the late Mallory Watch, or her protege Krissy, were draped over the row of books that lined the entrance to the shelf of the nightstand. It was his wall against the world, his protection from his temporary home getting spotted by any unwanted ‘guests’ that happened into their room.

People could get in for a number of reasons… a maid might miss the DO NOT DISTURB sign that hung on the door from the moment they arrived to the moment they left. Sam aside, it would be unfortunate, to say the least, if anyone spotted the arsenal that Dean was packing.

Other visitors might not be as benign as a well-meaning cleaning lady. A burglar could break in. A single glance at Sam would be all it took. He’d be swept up all over again as nothing more than an object that could make money. Downgraded to some person’s ‘pet’ instead of Dean’s best friend and partner. It would be up to his wits and determination to find a way to escape, or hope that Dean could track him down all over again.

The wall of books gave him cover, the illusion that he was still safely nestled inside the walls of the home he’d lived in before reuniting with his older brother. Though he was working to adjust to living more like a human now, it just didn’t feel right to sleep out in the open. An enclosed space was safer and made it easy for him to keep an eye on the only entrance. At least he’d always know where potential attacks would come from in the event he needed to protect himself in the room.

With the clothes all washed, Sam chose a set of jeans and a jacket that was already cleaned. He’d already scrubbed himself clean so he wasted no time slipping into the worn pants and shirt. Two socks, almost small enough for Dean to mistake for scraps of fabric or fluff if the full-sized human was to see them, went onto his feet. His jacket was the finishing touch. This one was a soft green, made by Krissy from when they were last at the motel. It was just as comfortable as the clothing crafted by Mallory. She was truly stepping into her role as making clothes for everyone back there these days. Sam was proud of his old friend. Now if only she could gather the courage one day to come out and actually talk to Dean.

Wouldn’t that be something.

Sam shuffled to the edge of the nightstand with his boots in hand to see if his brother was almost ready to leave the room and get to work. Luck happened to be with him that he hadn’t grabbed his satchel yet.

Because the second he went to hop down from the edge of the nightstand, he plunged into icy cold water.

Sam let out a gasp as he surfaced again, trying to blink the water out of his eyes. It wasn’t deep, a good thing since it was over fourteen years since the smaller hunter had made any attempt at swimming. The current in a stream outside was too strong for him to risk without safeguards, and he was leery of the bathtubs in the motel rooms. The sides were too slick and too tall for him to ever escape on his own. He could probably use a sink for it but the thought had never occurred to him.

Sam splashed at the surface, spluttering in shock. “Dean?!” he shouted in annoyance, trying to find the source of his aggravation. His voice already shuddered from the plunge into the cold water.

Who else could it be?

Indeed, he heard someone snorting in amusement from one of the beds overhead. “You sonovabitch, Dean!” Sam snapped up at him, trying to flounder out of the chest-deep container of tupperware that had been shoved by his shelf. He wasn’t used to trying to move through water. The weight on his legs when he tried to walk caught him off-guard, but he tried to muscle through.

A shadow fell over his head as long fingers surrounded him and gathered him up into their grasp. Despite his continuing irritation with his older brother, he didn’t try to struggle free, letting Dean lift him out. He didn’t want to stay in the water any longer than he had to, even if it meant he was accepting help from the source of the problem.

Plus, the hands were warm and after a plunge like that he could use all the heat he could get. He already had problems with keeping his body heat, shit like this was not going to help.

Dean had a hand covering his mouth as he tried to stifle the snorts of laughter that shook his shoulders. “Ah, man! You should have seen your face!” He held his hand flat, letting Sam gather himself up after being momentarily enclosed in a fist.

Sam tried to shake the drops of water from his hair, glaring up at Dean the entire time. “What’s the big idea?” he asked snippily, trying to straighten his mussed up locks of brown hair. He’d only just gotten washed up, too!

Dean pursed his lips, clearly trying to hide a grin the entire time Sam was talking. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said innocently. “Just trying to keep up with my little brother’s idea of fun and games. I mean, that idea with the boots just spoke to me.” He gave Sam a wink. “Better watch what you start, pint-size.”

Sam flicked his arms at Dean, sending the last drops he had on his sleeves splashing against his brother’s face. “You just better be ready to finish what you started,” he grumped. “Or did you forget that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean said, keeping up the innocent facade.

Sam threw him a bitchface and crossed his arms impatiently. “Gonna put me down so I can get dry clothes on, jackass?” he asked tersely. He was already privately trying to map out a way to get Dean back for the indignity of plunging into a container of ice cold water.

Whatever he came up with, it would have to be good. Dean needed to know that he was not someone to be messed with lightly, small size or not.

Dean ended up letting Sam down with only a few more pokes at his bedraggled state, managing to set a record high for the number of times he’d been bitchfaced in a small period of time. The soaked hunter stepped off his hand and watched suspiciously as the tupperware container was lifted out of his way.

It was hard for Dean to miss the suspicion directed at him as he took away the container. The way Sam eyed him up, it was like he was expecting the water to get dumped on his head. And though it wouldn’t be completely out of character for him, Dean elected not to, simply because they actually did have places to be and people to interview. The case was waiting and what a strange case it was.

While Sam once again cleaned himself up, Dean took the container over to the sink to dump it out. It wouldn’t be a trick he could use on Sam twice. His younger brother was a fast learner. He’d be checking the ground before he jumped from now on. It was amazing he’d fallen for it the first time.

Eventually, they were both ready to go. Dean dug out his suit. With the family in mourning from the loss of the father, it wouldn’t be easy to get an interview with the wife if he was dressed up in his normal street clothes.

This time around, it was a newer suit. He’d made sure to get one with pockets in the side so that there was a more comfortable place for Sam to sit during the interviews. If Sam came up with any questions while Dean talked to the mother, he’d be able to pound them out in Morse on Dean’s side. They weren’t the fastest with the code yet, but it certainly got the job done. Their successful night at the bar had proven that.

Sam let Dean put him in the pocket. The home of the family was only a few blocks from the motel, so there wouldn’t be time for him to hang out in the car.

With Sam and his weapons hidden, Dean set out for the Impala with his keys in hand.
Like a Moth to Flame 3
CHAPTER 3: Upping the Stakes

XD Dean's comeback. Oh dear, boys, what have you started. You know you're on a hunt right now, right?

Please comment!

I am in need of help! We’re looking for ideas for good borrower/little last names, so if you’ve got any thoughts, head on over to the survey link and drop one in! There’s more than a few bbys aleady who could use some last names (Kara and Christian, to name a few), and some upcoming bbys that will need last names!

Survey here!

This one is open to retake as many times as you have ideas– just try to not repeat the same idea over and over, we’re looking for fresh things!

Note for all who follow the tumblr: This is the story that i had a falling out with my editor over, and the story used to be much different before that falling out. The original beginning is posted on the tumblr here. That is all.

PL1 is my beautiful beta reader for this seat of your pants fic!

If you're looking to read the series from the beginning, visit Brothers Apart 1!

Previous story: Calling John Bonham

First: Like a Moth to Flame 1

Previous: Like a Moth to Flame 2

Next: December 6th, 2016

For more Brothers Apart and other Supernatural Gt stories:

Masterpost of Stories


I do not own Sam, Dean or any part of Supernatural. The storyline and all other characters is the property ofnightmares06. Please do not repost. :iconsambitchfaceplz:

I am in need of help! We’re looking for ideas for good borrower/little last names, so if you’ve got any thoughts, head on over to the survey link and drop one in! There’s more than a few bbys aleady who could use some last names (Kara and Christian, to name a few), and some upcoming bbys that will need last names!

Survey here!

This one is open to retake as many times as you have ideas– just try to not repeat the same idea over and over, we’re looking for fresh things!

In the early hours of the morning, Dean found himself drawn away from a semi-relaxed sleep.

A steady tapping filled the background, blocking out the soft bird cries that echoed from outside. Dean's eyes blinked open, unfocused and confused about where he was for a minute.

His surroundings became clearer as he woke. A leather seat. His head propped against the handle of a door. Dean's gaze trailed over to the army man Sam had managed to get stuck in the ashtray so many years ago. A smile touched his lips. Sam barely stood twice the height of that toy now, but he'd lay bets that the small hunter could still get the toy stuck there again.

The tapping that Dean realized was coming from the front seat tapered off as the hunter let out a groan. He did his best to stretch out in the cramped backseat he had all to himself, mashing a hand against his face to clear the last traces of sleep from his eyes.

The tapping resumed as Dean hauled himself up. That's right, he remembered. Before passing out the night before, he'd set up the laptop at Sam's request. That way, if Sam was the first one up, he didn't have to either wait for Dean to wake up, or wake up the hunter himself. He could just hop on and start checking things out online.

The laptop now had a card installed in it that could catch a satellite signal, giving the Winchesters access to the internet wherever they traveled. Even here, parked a half mile off the road near a field. It was set up the same as Dean's multiple cell phones were, making it impossible to trace back to the hunter. He'd learned a thing or two from Bobby and John, picking up PO boxes in the towns they passed through more than once. They gave Dean a wide range of possible addresses to draw from when he needed a mailing address. It never hurt to keep his options open.

Finally awake, Dean curiously draped an arm over the front seat, peering down to see what Sam was up to so early in the morning.

To his credit, the small hunter didn't flinch when Dean suddenly appeared above him. He was finally pushing away the skittish reactions to his human friends, caused by his previous abduction. It had taken months, but with careful work and patience, he was recovering.

Sam craned his neck back, meeting the groggy green eyes a few feet over his head. "Morning, sunshine!" he chirped brightly, grinning up at Dean.

Dean groaned at that, rubbing his forehead and slumping back down into the backseat. It just figured Sam would be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the ass-crack of dawn. He was probably getting back at Dean for that one time he'd gotten up first and even managed to have his coffee while Sam was sprawled out in sleep.

Like it was Dean's fault.

In truth, Bowman had been sleeping in the nightstand with Sam that night. The wood sprite was an unknown, abducted from his forest home under the assumption that he was a part of the undead menace terrorizing the forest. With him so close to Sam while the small hunter was defenseless, Dean had been unable to sleep too deeply. More than once he'd been up throughout the night, checking to make sure Sam was safe and Bowman was asleep.

Of course, nothing had happened. Bowman was an innocent victim of the scourge that had attacked the forest. One sprite of an entire village of pacifists that Dean had helped defend. Unlike the sprites of Aeternum that Sam and Dean had dealt with previously, these wood sprites had no natural defenses, illustrated by how easily Dean could simply stick Bowman in a pocket and leave the forest with him.

With Bowman's help, the brothers were able to stop the creature trying to steal the life energy of the sprites, given to them by the Lady of Life, the Spirit that had created them. If the brothers had never journeyed to the Wellwood in search of a new case, the entire village that sat in the heart of the forest could have been wiped off the map with no way of preventing any of it.

Now, though they had to leave the forest behind, Sam and Dean had gained new allies. After discovering Bowman had a human friend of his own (and things would have been very interesting if this Jacob had found Dean abducting his friend from the forest), they'd left the sprite one of Dean's business cards. If any other supernatural problems cropped up in the future, they could come back in a flash.

The connection to the Earth Spirit blessed the sprites with their own form of magic, and magic had a habit of attracting the greedy or the evil. It was good to have a fallback plan for worst-case scenarios.

Dean and Sam had no problem being that fallback plan.

It was a pity they'd had to leave so soon. Sam would have loved the chance to explore an entire village his size. But a hunter's work was never over.

Sam's voice drifted up from the front seat, interrupting Dean's morning woolgathering. "Oh, I would have gone out and grabbed you some coffee, but you just had to hang onto the keys overnight. I just couldn't get the car to start without them."

Dean smirked, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He bounced back up to a sit, scooping the keys out of his pocket. "Guess I should just hand them over then."

"Dean, what are you..." Sam peered up, spotting the keys dangling over his head and the mischievous spark in Dean’s eyes above.

"Don't! "

With a snicker, Dean let them drop. It was only from an inch over Sam's head, so he easily caught them in his arms. Off balance with the cumbersome keys in his grasp, he pitched backwards with a strangled growl, only to be swept up into a hand with the keys. Dean raised the hand with his little brother sitting in it up to eye level, giving Sam a familiar smirk and getting a bitchface in return.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. "I thought you were volunteering!"

He snickered for a few more seconds, watching Sam try and untangle himself from the keyring. "So, what has you up at the crack of dawn, shorty?" He grinned, ignoring the constant glare shot up at him by piercing hazel eyes.

Sam whapped away a finger that intruded on his personal space to brush at the top of his head. "What do you think?" he grumbled as he adjusted the flyaways in his hair. "I'm looking up a case for us."

Dean instinctively brushed his own hair, reminded by Sam's actions that he'd just woken up and had bedhead. He leaned over the back of the front seat. Sam's small hands grasped a finger, trying to stay balanced on the precarious perch as it moved around him.

"You could at least put me down, jackass," Sam grumbled as Dean's other arm stretched out overhead.

Dean dug a newspaper clipping out from under the shirt Sam had slept on. "Almost forgot," Dean quipped, ignoring the complaints. He unfolded it, then let Sam down onto the seat so he could survey the article. "Found us a case last night in between games."

Sam stepped onto the crisp newspaper, pacing back and forth as he scanned it over, easily reading letters that were as tall as his fingers. The torn paper crumpled under the tread of his boots. "A suicide?" he read out loud.

"A strange one," Dean spoke up as he dug through his duffel. "This 'Mike' the article is talking about had the perfect life and everyone always said he was perfectly happy. There's no real reason for him to do himself in. He not only tried to smash his SUV into a tractor trailer blazing down the highway at 80 mph, his entire family was in the car with him. The only reason the family survived was his wife, Marissa MacDavis, wrestled the steering wheel away from him and sent them off the road. There were a few broken bones between the kids, but nothing life threatening. Mike was placed in a locked psychiatric ward for evaluation. Later on that night, he hung himself."

Sam crossed his arms with a frown. "Depression doesn't always 'make sense,' Dean. It might just be a suicide. These things do happen."

"Did I mention his wife said his eyes were red when he went nuts in the car?” Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Doesn't hurt to check things out," came the muffled reply from the back. The car shook slightly as Dean moved around out of sight. After a moment, he popped back up, a toothbrush and water bottle in one hand and a clean set of clothes in the other. "Back in a flash."

Sam watched him get out of the car, slamming the door behind him. A brief breeze of the chill morning air slipped in, ruffling Sam's hair and making him glad he had his jacket.

In the sudden silence of the car, punctuated by the receding footsteps outside, Sam got an idea.

He grinned.

During the course of the next ten minutes, Sam was on a mission. If Dean thought it was so funny to pick him up with his keys, they'd see how he enjoyed the consequences of his actions. It was time for some good old-fashioned revenge.

The hunter's boots were sitting on the floor of the car, by the backseat.

Dean, you really should have put your boots on before getting out of the car today.

The dirty socks the hunter had worn the day before were sitting nearby in a heap. Sam wrinkled his nose at the smell as he lifted one up. It wasn't that his smelled pine fresh after a long day of work... Dean's were just too damn big. Just the one sock probably stretched three times Sam's length at a minimum, and was ripe.

Sam forced that from his mind. Revenge was more important and time was running out. Based on Dean's normal ablutions, which after a year of being with the hunter, Sam knew very well, he had about a ten minute minimum window of time to get his mission done. Twenty minutes max before his older brother returned and time ran out.

One at a time, each sock was taken in hand. Sam cautiously scaled each boot using the thick laces that stretched across the front. Each one was the thickness of his palm, and easily held his weight as he made his way up. He did a careful scan of the windows before going any further. It wouldn't suit to have Dean return early and grab his boots while Sam was still inside.

Sam dropped down inside, almost hacking at the smell. It was worse than the socks! Keeping his nose pinched, he used the sock to pad the sides, giving each boot an unexpected insulation. With any luck Dean wouldn't notice the sock, and would think his boots were shrinking.


Another three minutes later, and both boots were ready. It wasn't likely Dean would realize his socks were missing in his usual hurry to get ready, especially since they had no food with them. A diner would be the only thing on the hunter's mind by the time he got back to the car.

With everything set, Sam snuck back to the front seat and was keenly reviewing the article by the time Dean returned.

A shadow fell over the backseat as the door reopened. Sam glanced up, just barely able to see Dean in a clean outfit. The hunter leaned into the car, grabbing his boots.

Sam had to hide a grin as he sat down in the open door to put them on. Aside from a slight frown and a brief shake of his feet, Dean didn’t react to the dirty socks padding the insides. Nor did he notice their absence from the floor of the car.

Finally ready to face the day, Dean bounced out of the back. The car shook in time with the movements from the older hunter, almost offsetting Sam’s balance up front. The duffel was packed up again, all their overnight supplies vanishing into the dark interior. Sam had only been inside once or twice, and never while Dean was holding it. The haphazard arrangement of the items within was dangerous enough while stationary. If it was moving, there was almost a guarantee he’d end up sandwiched between items, and that could cripple or kill him if the force was enough. The fact that the majority of items inside was weaponry was just another reason to avoid the bag.

With their supplies settled, Dean drove off with Sam nestled in the crook of his neck.
Like a Moth to Flame 2
CHAPTER 2: The Start of the War

The start... of the long awaited prank war!!! :la:

Please comment!

Note for all who follow the tumblr: This is the story that i had a falling out with my editor over, and the story used to be much different before that falling out. The original beginning is posted on the tumblr here. That is all.

PL1 is my beautiful beta reader for this seat of your pants fic!

If you're looking to read the series from the beginning, visit Brothers Apart 1!

Previous story: Calling John Bonham

First: Like a Moth to Flame 1

Next: December 4th, 2016

For more Brothers Apart and other Supernatural Gt stories:

Masterpost of Stories


I do not own Sam, Dean or any part of Supernatural. The storyline and all other characters is the property ofnightmares06. Please do not repost. :iconsambitchfaceplz:


Dec 7, 2016
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Dec 7, 2016
6:43 pm
Dec 7, 2016
6:40 pm
Dec 7, 2016
3:37 pm
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8:31 am



Journal History


Add a Comment:
Jetx43682 Featured By Owner 17 hours ago
Hey, sry I'm spamming ur comment section but is it ok if I write something based off BA? I don't think I'll send it in for the January thing, I just wanted to experiment with writing styles
nightmares06 Featured By Owner 17 hours ago  Hobbyist Writer
Go for it! I love seeing any stories or art for BA, whether they be for the contest or not! And don't worry about spamming my comment section, I never get any comments here, lol. Message me anytime
Jetx43682 Featured By Owner 15 hours ago
Ok cool thxX3
Jetx43682 Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2016
Holy crap I'm so excited for the next story!!!XD if u want me to draw anything I'll try my best, maybe I could find someone to color :3
nightmares06 Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime you feel like drawing something from the story, I looove seeing the pictures and showing them off to everyone like "Look! Awesomeness!" 
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