Dean leaned his head back against the couch and let out a sigh as he fanned himself with his hand, not bothering to look over at his brother, “What do you want me to do about it?”
“Fix it!”
That made the blonde snort, “Yeah, let me just go outside and use my powers to make the sun go away.”
“I know you don’t have powers,” The annoyed voice from his left got him to look over – his brother’s bangs were stuck to his forehead because of how hard he was sweating, and he had the makings of a Bitch Face clouding his expression, “But you usually know what to do!”
“I’m nine!” Dean let out an incredulous chuckle, “Uncle Bobby’s already working on the air conditioner.” He craned his neck in an attempt to look out the window to the backyard, “We just gotta wait ’til he’s done.”
“Ugh!” Sammy flopped over sideways onto the couch, face smushing into the cushion, “He’s taking so looong!”
“Maybe it was really broken?”
That earned him another groan of annoyance, “It’s too hot!”
“We’re already on the first floor!” Dean stopped trying to locate the father figure and turned back to the living room, eyes sweeping across it uselessly, “It’s not like we can get any low-” His eyes stopped on the door to the basement door, huh.
“Jesus, it’s hot out there!” Sam slumped against the motel door as he entered the room, wiping sweat off his forehead with his free hand. He let his sweat-soaked jacket fall to the ground before taking a few steps into the room to place the grocery bag down on the small table, brows creasing with confusion, “I thought you said it was only 40 degrees?”
Dean nodded toward the news that was playing on the tv in the corner, barely bothering to look up from his magazine, “That’s what it told me.”
Sam turned to look at the info on the screen for himself. After a moment, he shook his head, “That says 40 Celsius, Dean.”
“What the hell is Celsius?”
Sam shook his head and made the short trip over to the freezer, grabbing an ice-pack, “It’s another temperature scale.” At the look, he raised an eyebrow, “You thought Fahrenheit was the only one?”
“Temperature’s temperature! If it’s hot, it’s hot, if it’s cold, it’s cold.” Dean’s nose crinkled and he held his hands up in mock surrender, magazine slipping into his lap, “Why would it be different here?”
“Whoa!” Dean quickly tossed the wrench in his hand at the floor, barely catching the tail-end of his daughter’s dress as she bolted toward the front door, “Where’s the fire?”
Taylor blew out an annoyed breath as she pointed her thumb over her shoulder, “The ice cream truck!”
“What about it?” Dean blinked at her absently as his brain played catch-up. After a minute – in which, his daughter tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes, doing a damn good impression of Cas’ confused face – his ears finally picked up the jingle playing just beyond his door, “Oh, r-right. Sorry, Sweetheart.”
He dug his free hand into his pocket, before handing her a bill and nodding, “Stay on the block.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Her overtly-sweet tone made him laugh as she raced out the front door. Dean shook his head and moved so he could see her and the gang of other kids out the living room window. He caught the eye of one of his neighbours who nodded to him. Dean raised his hand in silent appreciation before he turned back to the couch he was supposed to be fixing.
All Cas had not-asked him to do was tighten the foot rest, yet here he was, surrounded by miscellaneous couch parts, his toolbox and definitely more screws than what he remembered taking out of the thing.
One could argue it was not, in fact, going well. Especially since it was already – Dean flicked his eyes up to the clock on the wall – 6pm, shit.So much for surprising him.
Dean blew out a breath as he looked around the mess, Cas’ll have a field day if he gets home from work and sees this.
“Okay, new plan!” Dean clapped his hands and nodded to himself, put everything back as fast as possible and hope he hits traffic.
Just as Dean got back down onto his knees, the front door burst open.
Sam huffed and shifted his weight on the lumpy motel bed, “Do you get some sort of sick enjoyment out of waking me up with your stupid shit?”
At the lack of answer, the giant huffed and rolled over, not bothering to open his eyes – not that he was fully asleep yet, anyway, “It’s happened way too many times now to simply be a coincidence.”
Another moment of silence passed, much to Sam’s annoyance.
He cracked an eye open and sat up, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, “I swear to God, if you’re not bleeding out-”
Sam cut off the end of his sentence as he saw his brother getting choked out against the wall by the door, shit.
Sam was out of his bed and stalking toward the monster in the next instant. He couldn’t help the pit that dropped into his stomach as the stench of sulphur invaded his nose. Instinctively, he brought his hand up.
It only took one twist of Sam’s fist for the demon to lose his grip on his brother and stumble backward, letting out a loud cry of pain.
Sam zeroed in on the creature as Dean got himself back to his feet, voice turning hard, “How did you find us?”
“I… I can’t.”
Sam took a step closer and twisted his fist again, “How?”
The demon let out another cry of pain and fell to it’s knees. “H-he’ll… kill me.” It took in some huffing breaths and brought watery eyes up to the giant, “P-please.”
“B-but,” Even though Bobby was behind him, he could see the confusion etching itself into Dean’s face, “Dad said I had target practice today.”
“You’re allowed to do more than one thing a day, y’know.”
“I-I know,” The blonde hung his head as they turned the corner on the sidewalk, park coming into view, “I just… really need the practice.”
“You kidding?” Bobby adjusted the grip he had on the baseball in his hand, “In a few more lessons, you’ll be better than me.”
That earned the father-figure a chuckle, finally.
John had dropped them off maybe a month ago now, and Dean still hadn’t relaxed yet. Not that Bobby blamed him. He’d finally overheard the speech he gave the eldest before leaving, and let’s just say Bobby discovered a new level to his restraint that day. ‘Don’t trust anyone’, ‘can’t let your guard down’, ‘be ready for anything’, and of course the classic, ‘watch out for your brother.’
It was way too much pressure to put on a nine-year old.
And, not to mention, a little insulting. If John thought Bobby was so incompetent, why’d he keep leaving the boys with him?
Not the time, Bobby shook his head to dispel the thoughts as they entered the park. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Sammy make a bee-line for the swing set. Dean took a few unsure steps forward before turning to look back at Bobby. It took his brain a minute to realize the kid was waiting for instructions.
He could punch John.
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“S-Sam-” Dean felt his breath hitch as his brother nibbled on his ear, pulling him closer.
“Ssshhh,” The giant purred, breath tickling his ear, “just go with it.”
Dean let his eyes slip closed as his brother’s hands started running themselves over his body. He couldn’t help but relax into the touch as one hand found it’s way into his hair and started massaging his head, yeees…
Sam kissed a trail from the blonde’s ear down to his neck, snaking his other hand between them. He ran it down the length of his brother’s torso, making note of the slight hitch of breath that happened as he brushed over the blonde’s abs.
Sam couldn’t help but chuckle as Dean bucked his hips as his hand reached his belt, “Someone’s eager, eh?”
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The giant jumped up from the kitchen table and bolted down the bunker hall at his brother’s call, pulling the gun from his waistband as he went.
“Dean?” He was rounding the corner into the front room in the next instant, “What is it?”
He swept the room, spotting only his brother, who was leaned against the map table, panting hard, “Hey, hey, hey,” Sam rushed to his brother’s side in the next instant, worried eyes roaming over him, “What is it? Did something get in?”
“I… can’t-” The blonde shook his head as his voice cut off and his breathing picked up. He brought terrified eyes to his brother and desperately pointed to his throat.
“Uh, okay,” Sam zeroed in on his brother’s neck, brain running a mile a minute, “I don’t…” his brows furrowed as he stared, “I don’t see anything.” He flicked his eyes back up to his brother’s now visibly paler face, “Did you swallow something?”
Dean shook his head again, and brought a hand up to slap himself in the chest as his breathing turned dangerously shallower.
“Uh, o-okay, okay, just,” Sam swept his eyes around the room again, noting the end table on the far side, “Hang on.”
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I hope you all had a fun, restful end of your year and are ready to get back down to business!
I have a lot of excitingthings happening this year, and I can’t wait for you guys to get your hands on them!
AI
Written: 25.01.15
Words: 1,340
General
“Son of a bitch!”
Dean’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright, instantly on high alert at hearing his brother’s cry of pain.
He was out of his bed, making his way cautiously down the hall in the next moment, “Sam?” At the lack of answer, he started down the hall faster, “Sammy!”
Dean raised his eyebrows as he came up to the front of the bunker and spotted his brother, sighing in relief, “Dude! Why didn’t you-”
“Don’t move!”
His brother’s panicked voice made Dean stop mid-step. He carefully placed his foot back down and moved his eyes to the floor. It was covered in some kind of liquid. Sam was somehow standing in the middle of the mess, socks soaked with whatever the liquid was.
Dean raised his eyes back to his brother, “What happened?”
Sam’s face broke into an embarrassed smile at that and he shifted his weight, “I…” He let out a breath and his shoulders deflated, “I dropped it.”
Important: This is the last story of 2025! I’ll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I’ll be back January 16th, 2026 with the first story of the new year!
Written: 25.12.03
Words: 1,656
Wee!Chesters, 2025’s 2nd Christmas story
“Where is he?”
Dean rolled his eyes as he watched the 5-year-old excitedly fog up the glass of the window. He flopped down on the couch, unceremoniously, “Don’t waste your time, Sammy. John’s not coming.”
The youngest didn’t bother tearing his eyes away from the snow-covered street, “Of course he is. He promised.”
That made the blonde snort, as he picked up a magazine, “Yeah, cause John never breaks his promises.”
He didn’t regret the comment as much as he should’ve as his brother finally turned to face him. Dean kept his eyes averted to the magazine page in his lap – purposefully avoiding those ridiculous puppy dog eyes that made him cave.
Sammy was old enough to learn that they couldn’t rely on their father – just themselves. Harsh? Maybe, but that was the thinking that was going to keep them safe, not Sammy’s relentless hope for good things.
They were cursed. The sooner his brother accepted that, the better.
“He wouldn’t break this one.”
“Why not?”
“B-because.”
Dean raised an eyebrow as he flipped the page, “Because…?”
He heard his brother take in an annoyed huff, “Because it’s important.”
“Right, just like he wouldn’t have skipped your spelling bee final, or your first day of kindergarten, or-”
“Here you are!” Bobby’s voice cut off the end of Dean’s sentence. He took a few steps into the room, noting the brother’s expressions before raising an eyebrow, “… What’s going on in here?”
Sammy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed again, “Dean’s being mean.”
“Oh?”
Dean slammed the magazine down on the table, standing up from the couch, “It’s not mean to tell you the truth!”
“It’s not true! He’ll be here!”
“Then where is he? Huh?” Dean pointed an angry finger at the window, “You think he’s hiding behind that tree? Under the snow bank? Wake up! He was never going to come.”
“Dean.”
Sammy’s bottom lip began to tremble, and he stomped his foot, “D-don’t say that!”
“He never comes because he doesn’t care about us!” Dean pushed passed the youngest, heading for the stairs, “Grow up, Sammy.”
He stomped up the stairs, practically shaking with the force of his rage. The blonde reached their shared bedroom not long after, and unthinkingly slammed the door shut behind him, stupid Sammy. He started pacing as he failed to get control of his rage, stupid John. It’d be so much easier if he just-
“Dean!”
A chill went down the blonde’s spine as he heard the call of his father’s voice.He swallowed thickly, took a moment to take in a big breath before bracing himself as he opened the bedroom door. He hesitantly made his way over to the stairs, craning his neck in an attempt to get eyes on the man before being spotted. Maybe if Dean could see what state he was in, he’d be able to judge how he was going to react better. If he was covered in blood, there was a better chance John’d be too wiped out from the hunt to yell at him.
Unfortunately, Dean was still too short to see over the staircase banister.
He hung his head and reluctantly made his way down the steps. Dean hesitated ever-so-subtly as he moved down to the last step. He took in another big breath as his foot hit the first floor, no more stalling.
Dean made his way into the living room, straightening up as he spotted his father. “Y-yes Sir?”
John’s face broke out into a smile and he rushed forward, wrapping the blonde up in a hug.
The action broke Dean’s brain for a moment – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged by his father – and he barely had time to relax into it before it was over.
John pulled back, before pointing a thumb over his shoulder, at a dirty sack that was laying against the coffee table, “Help me put these under the tree before Sammy gets back.”
Dean couldn’t hide his confusion, “… back?”
“Yeah,” John turned, picking the sack up before starting the short journey over to the tree, “He and Bobby are outside.”
Dean turned his attention to the window, eyebrows raising as he saw they were, in fact, out in the yard, building a snowman. His brother was all giggles and shrieks of happiness – no traces of the tears from their fight.
Dean shook his head and moved to help his father. There weren’t just a surprising amount of gifts in the sack, but they were all also expertly wrapped. With real wrapping paper – not their usual newspaper and twine.
Dean placed the first present about halfway back from the front of the tree. He hesitated as he went to grab the next one, half-waiting for his father to tell him the first wasn’t in the right spot. To his surprise, John just started placing presents on the opposite side of the tree.
… Huh, They kept placing the presents around the tree in silence for a few minutes, the blonde staying half-braced for the criticism, or chew out from his blow up with Sammy to come. Once John started whistling, Dean finally snapped.
“So, D-Dad,” Dean cleared his throat, mentally cursing himself as his voice shook, “How’d the hunt go?”
“It went…” John let his voice trail off as he stared at the newest laid present. He shook his head after a moment of silence, plastering the uncharacteristic smile back on his face, “Let’s not talk about hunting.”
No hunting? Dean swallowed thickly and slowly started reaching to his boot for the small, silver dagger that was tucked there, “Did you kill it?”
“What did I just say?” John chuckled and shook his head, before picking up another present.
Dean’s hand wrapped around the handle of the dagger then, and he was pulling it out of his boot in the next instant, surprised when his father caught his arm easily.
John’s face clouded over then – into the familiar angry expression he usually wore, “What the hell, Dean?”
Dean couldn’t help his eyes from going wide, “I-I thought….”
“You think if I was a monster I could take more than two steps into this house?” John tucked the dagger into one of his jacket pockets, hand on his son’s arm squeezing harder, “Don’t think your Uncle Bobby is good at his job?”
“N-no! I… I…”
John’s angry eyes searched his son’s scared face a moment longer, before he let out a deep huff and finally dropped his arm. He adverted his gaze to the presents and lowered his voice, “I found a lead on the demon. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s Christm-” Dean cut himself off as his father hung his head a little farther and he realized what he was saying, oh.
After a long moment of silence, John took in a sharp breath, before digging back into the sack. Dean swallowed suit, placing the last present at the front of the tree. He turned to his father, who had moved back to his feet, “I-is this okay?”
“Looks great.”
John balled the sack up before making the short trip over to the hall closet, chucking it in. He checked the window as he turned around, new smile splitting his face, “Perfect timing!”
Before Dean had time to question that meant, his brother and Bobby came in the kitchen door. Sammy barely had time to drop his coat on the floor before spotting John and shrieking.
“Whoa!” John pretended to get knocked a few steps backward as the youngest hurled himself at his legs, “Heya, Sammy.”
“You’re here!”
John cocked an eyebrow at that as he picked up his son, “Of course I’m here. I promised, didn’t I?”
“Um,” Sammy glanced semi-nervous eyes at his brother, “w-well-”
Bobby cleared his throat then, and took a few steps away from the coat rack, “How about I put on the kettle for some hot chocolate?”
“Awesome!” John sent his friend an appreciative smile before he half-turned, so Sammy could see the presents under the tree, “Then maybe, you guys can get started on these?”
“Wow!” Sammy practically leapt out of his father’s arms as he saw the set up, “There’s so many!”
“Ran into Santa on my way here.” John put the youngest down with a wink, “He let me take your presents early.”
Sammy slid to his knees in front of the tree, eyes wide as he looked over the stash. He turned after a moment, sending their father his most pleading puppy dog eyes, “Can I open one tonight? Please? Please, please, please?”
John chuckled and eased himself down on the arm of the couch, “You can open all of them tonight.”
“All of them?” Sammy’s eyes went impossibly wider and his jaw dropped open.
He looked between their father, Bobby – who had come back out of the kitchen – and Dean. The corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes landed on his brother, “… Are there any for Dean?”
The blonde felt his cheeks flush and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to look nonchalant, “Come on, Sammy, you know I’m too old for presents.”
“Oh yeah?” John crossed his arms over his chest before nodding to the side of the tree he’d laid presents down on, “Does that mean you don’t want any of those?”
Dean’s mouth fell open in surprise, and he looked at his father in disbelief. His nod was all the invitation the blonde needed to join his brother in front of the tree. His hands shook slightly as he looked out over the presents and noted some did, indeed have his name scribbled on them.
“Merry Christmas, boys.”
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Important: This is the 3rd last story of 2025. I’ll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I’ll be back January 16th, 2026 with the first story of the new year!
Hi guys!
I am so excited to finally share this project with you!
Detoxing – The Hard Way is one of the first fanfics I ever wrote, way back from 2013. It’s a 3 way cross-over fic between Supernatural, Dexter and Heroes. It’s also technically the first cross-over I ever attempted.
As you guys might know, cross-over stories are usually longer than regular stories. That’s because there’s more characters to play with, more worlds to play in, and the new dynamics are also just a lot of fun!
This story is no exception and because it’s combining three shows instead of two, it became exceptionally long. The original unfinished draft of this story from 2013, is 130 pages. (Roughly 69,000 words)
Because of it’s size, I couldn’t upload it as a regular Throw Away Fic, but I also didn’t want to publish it as a book, either. In my head, Detoxing isn’t a book, it’s just… a story. This led to me going back and forth on the ‘proper’ way I wanted to share it, and I think I’ve finally figured it out.
I’ve decided that I’m going to upload Detoxing next year (2026) as a Patreon exclusive, and it’ll be available to read by EVERY Tier! This means it won’t matter if you’re a Silent Supporter ($1), Rockin’ Reader ($10) or Spoilers! ($13) patron, every paying member will have access to this story!
So, if you haven’t signed up yet, or are still on the fence, now is the perfect time to check it out! Signing up before January will also allow you to follow along for the ride, right from the start!
Trust me when I tell you, this is not a story you guys want to miss!
I’ve also decided – partly because Patreon has post limits and partly because I want the story to be easier to digest – I’m going to be uploading the story in chunks/parts, instead of all at once. (This will be in addition to the regularly scheduled stories)
I’m going to make it it’s own Collection and tag, as well, so it’ll be easier for you guys to find, instead of having to scroll/sift through all the other stories.
As I said above, I’ve had this story rolling around in my head since 2013, and I am beyond excited to finally be able to let it see the light of day! I’m hoping you guys love it as much as I do!
And now, to get the ball rolling – and you guys excited – below is a preview of what’s to come!
Word Count: 629
C2C, SPN x Dexter x Heroes, TW: Torture (Semi-Graphic)
Dean flicked his eyes back over to the passenger seat, where Sam had gone unusually quiet. He noted his brother was trying not to squint, and had brought one hand up to clutch at the side of his head.
“Hey,” Dean used one arm to pat his brother on the shoulder, “You good?”
“Y-yeah, I’m-ah!”
The giant’s sentence cut off into a scream of pain and he pitched forward, narrowly missing cracking his head on the dashboard from doubling over.
“Sam? Sam!” Dean was pulling the car over to the side of the road in the next instant. He was out of his seat and ripping the passenger side door open before the Impala finished rolling to a stop, “Whoa, hey, hey, hey,” he brought a hand up to place on the giant’s chest as he nearly came tumbling out of the car, “Talk to me.”
Sam took in a sharp breath, face scrunched up with pain. He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He somehow found the strength to crack an eye open, and could do nothing but watch as the asphalt of the road gave way to a cement floor, that appeared to be coated in… plastic?
A man with reddish-brown hair wearing a black, rubber apron and elbow long gloves entered from behind a sheet of strung up plastic. He made his way over to the side of the room, coming up one side of a long table. On the table, lay a redheaded woman, who was completely naked, save for the thick sheets of plastic wrap that bound her. She wiggled, uselessly against her binds, twisting her neck around violently to see her environment. She stopped wiggling as she spotted the man.
“I-I haven’t done anything.”
“No?” The man’s voice was calm – oddly calm for the situation that was unfolding. He didn’t bother turning around as he unwrapped his tools, and pointed to the row of pictures that had been propped up at the other end of the room, “I think they’d beg to differ.”
“P-please.” The woman licked her lips, “I’m a good person.”
That got the man to spin around, slamming one hand down on the table next her, “No!” The word was barely more than a grow – all semblance of calm now gone – as he aggressively pointed toward the pictures, “A good person wouldn’t have raped, tortured and dismembered three little boys for fun!”
The man walked the short distance to the top of the table, pulling a small scalpel and eye dropper out of his apron pocket as he took his place behind the lady’s head.
“N-no! Please!” She started wiggling again as the man cut her cheek, more desperately this time.
He used the eyedropper to pick up some of the blood that was flowing out of the wound, before dropping it onto a small piece of glass. He tucked the fresh blood-slide into the pocket of his apron before walking back over to the table that held his tools.
He placed the eyedropper down as he shook his head, moving to pick up one of the knives, “Pleading won’t save you.”
“Sam? Hey, you with me?”
Sam let out a big breath as the asphalt of the road slowly came back into view, feeling the pressure in his head start to subside. He lowered the hand that had been clutching the side of his head, bringing it down to rub at his eyes, “Y-yeah, yeah, I’m with you.”
“Okay, good, good.” He felt the blonde clap him on the shoulder as the hand that was on his chest fell away. He slumped against the seat in exhaustion, semi-wild eyes taking a minute to find his brother’s worried face, “Was that a vision?”
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