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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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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Important: This is the 4th 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: 25.10.23
Words: 851
Wee!Chesters, 2025’s Halloween fic
“Uncle Bobby?”
The voice startled the father figure awake from his place on the couch. He snapped his eyes open and saw a costume-clad Sammy staring at him with those big, round eyes. He let out a yawn and sat up straight, “Dean still bitching about taking you out?”
Sammy’s brows furrowed at that, “What?”
Bobby shook his head, “I’ll get him,” he cleared his throat, before looking toward the stairs, “Dean!”
“Yeah?” The blonde came out of the kitchen in the next moment, beer in hand.
That got Bobby to his feet. He snatched the drink from the pre-teen while giving him a look, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Hey!” Dean’s mouth fell open as the drink was taken away and he defiantly stomped a foot, “You said I could have one!”
Bobby let out a chuckle, “Nice try.”
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Important: This is the 5th 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: 25.10.07, 25.10.09
Words: 2,901
Hallucifer, C2C, 2025’s Thanksgiving
Sam bit his lip as he turned the info over in his head, sitting in the parking lot of a motel, this doesn’t make sense.
“What doesn’t?” At the look, Lucifer shrugged, “What? I can be helpful sometimes.”
“I just…” Sam let out a breath, before turning to half-face the passenger seat, “Why would something that can make itself look like anyone, try to get me to a second location to kill me? Why not try and kill me right there in the bunker? And,” He shifted in his seat, brows creasing, “How’d it even get into the bunker? That thing is warded against stuff we’ve never even heard of! How’d some run-of-the-mill shifter get in?”
“Is that why we’re here?”
Sam nodded, “There might be more waiting for me to come back, I couldn’t risk it.” He brought his hands up, bringing his fingers together before tapping the bottom of his chin, “I can’t believe another holiday- oh shit!” Sam leaned back against the driver’s seat, letting out a loud groan, “I left the stove on!”
“… So?”
“All the food! It’s ruined!” Sam closed his eyes and shook his head against the back of the seat, “Fuck.”
“I’m sure the food’s fine. Your brother said Cas was gonna take care of it.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t Dean, so the chances he actually called Cas are probably in the negative thousands.”
“Well… why don’t you call him.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Cas, you idiot.” That got the giant to crack an eye open, “He has his angel power back now, right? Get him to smite the shifters then go find your brother.”
Sam opened his mouth to rebuttal, but stopped himself a moment later, shit, that’s actually a good plan. Why didn’t I think of that?
“I mean, technically, you did.”
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“So, what?” Sam turned out of the salvage yard, starting down the road toward the store, “You’re just gonna…. leave me alone now?” He let out a humourless chuckle and shook his head, what kind of torture tactic is that supposed to be?
He hadn’t seen the devil in a couple days, but he knew better than to get his hopes up – there was no way his hallucination was gone. You can’t actually fix that kind of crazy, no matter what his brother said.
“I’m driving,” Sam made a left-hand turn and couldn’t help but flick his eyes up to the rear-view mirror, “You sure you don’t wanna pop-in right now and try to make me crash?”
The car remained silent as the giant completed the turn, but he was anything but calm. He knew Lucifer was planning something – he was the devil, after all – so he couldn’t relax. Couldn’t lower his guard until he knew what was coming. This tactic of not showing up was weird, but it wasn’t exactly send-Cas-a-fruit-basket weird.
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Sam’s chest rattled with his chuckle and he tightened the arm that was around her back, “Lucky for me.”
Jess opened her eyes then, blinking against the darkness of the room. It took a moment for her tired brain to realize she was in bed, alone. She sat up and wiped the tears from her cheeks, doing her best to ignore the ache in her chest.
She turned to look at the clock that was sitting on the night stand and she sighed in annoyance, 2am. With a huff, she got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom.
After carefully avoiding looking in the mirror, she turned the water on and splashed some on her face. She forced herself to take a deep breath, I can’t keep going like this.
“Jess.”
Her shoulders tensed as she heard the giant’s voice and she closed her eyes, maybe I should try going back to therapy.
“Jess, please. Talk to me.”
She attempted to steel herself before looking to the mirror, breath catching as she saw her Sam. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, puppy dog eyes looking just as heartbreaking as when he was alive.
Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s non-convincing reply. He looked up from the stack of board games he was carefully trying not to topple over that was in the closet in front of him. He leaned backward a little bit, so he could see the couch the five-year-old was slumped on and the giant window behind him, “It’s still raining.”
“I know.”
The defeated sigh made the blonde roll his eyes again, and he turned back toward the games, “I’m sure the storm will pass soon. Then you can go play outside.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“Well, Jesus, Sammy!” The stack went toppling over and Dean couldn’t help but swat at one of them, no longer able to hide his annoyance, “What do you expect me to do? It’s not like I control the weather!”
“I know!” Sam scrunched up his face – the expression he made when he thought his brother was being an idiot – before somehow deflating further against the back cushion, “It just… sucks.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but closed it a moment later silently. He forced himself to take a breath, before letting out a deflating sigh of his own, “I know.”
They had been so excited when their Dad finally brought them to California. After leaving Uncle Bobby’s house and the snow, beaches and sunny weather were going to be a welcome refresh of their spirits. But what happened as soon as they rolled into town?
Non-stop thunder storms.
Dean had joked on the first night that it was like they brought the storm clouds with them.
Sam groaned and pulled his pillow up over his ear, rolling over onto his side, not again.
Despite his pillow earplug, he could hear his brother stomping through the motel room, doing… whatever the hell he was doing.
After a few more minutes of too-loud-for-4am thumping, he felt a pillow hit his hip. He let out a small groan before he pulled his pillow away from his ear, “What?”
He heard his brother scoff, “You’re not gonna get up?”
“No.”
“Nice, Sam.”
“Every other time you’ve woken me up with your catchphrase, it’s been for something stupid.”
“Well what if I’m hurt this time?”
Sam flopped over onto his back, still not bothering to open his eyes, “If you were seriously hurt, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“You don’t know that. I’ve been in plenty of conversations while I was in pretty bad shape.”
“True,” Sam huffed and finally opened his eyes, turning to face his brother’s voice despite the dark, “but there’d be an air of panic in your voice.”
“Well…” The blonde’s voice trailed off and Sam could picture his eyes searching the dark as he thought of an answer.
There was a moment of silence then, before Sam heard the creak of the springs in the other bed, signalling his brother was getting into it. Finally.
“I’m not gonna wake up next time you need help. How about that?”
“So you’ll do what you usually do? Oh no.”
Another pillow hit him then, making the giant chuckle. He took the pillow and tucked it up behind his current one. He settled back down and was surprised at how much more comfortable his head was, another pillow does make a difference… huh.
Sam let out a yawn then and slipped his eyes closed, “Well?”
“Well what?”
Sam turned onto his side, resisting the urge to let out a huff, “What happened?”
“I… closed the door on my thumb.”
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