Friendly reminder that the Winchesters are actually known in the hunter community as the scariest, most lethal motherfuckers on the planet.
#the winchesters are the things baby monsters have nightmares about #”don’t draw too much attention to yourself or the winchesters will find you” #”don’t kill humans all in one place or dean winchester will find you” #”stay sporadic or sam winchester will find your pattern” #”behave yourself or the winchesters will kill you”
#i wonder though how many monsters are smart enough to go undetected like #indefinitely #all the monsters sam and dean catch wind of are so sloppy #leaving bodies everywhere and an obvious m.o #like i wonder how many monsters there are that can clean up after themselves and not leave a trail #there’s gotta be TONS
sashi’s perfect tags: #have I mentioned lately that I’m head-over-heels in love with the darker aspects of the winchesters #and that everyone who is also in love with that are my favs forever and ever amen? #and the idea of monsters telling monster stories of the winchesters is like the most delicious thing mm mmm #and not just monsters #like Roy and Walt and the beginning of DSotM talked about them as if every hunter worth his salt knows and fears them #you don’t get on the bad side of those Winchester brothers #you don’t go near that Sam kid or else you get his brother Dean on your trail #you don’t fuck with Dean or else you get his little brother’s knife in your throat
[ i am so sorry for this asjdklsd i couldn’t help it. ]
Laura tells him the story one stormy summer night when they pretend to have a camp-out in her room. Derek is seven and Laura is nine, but neither of them has grown out of the other yet; they still play together, they still scheme together.
So they make a tent by draping a sheet over the space between Laura’s bed and the short bookcase beside the window, and they line the floor with as many comforters and afghans and quilts as they can find, and they confiscate pillows from every room of the house so that their nest is plush and comfortable. Their parents, when they come in to say good-night, laugh at the mess they’ve made - but it is a nice laugh, a mama-and-dad laugh that means they love their children.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Mama says, and Laura nods and giggles and makes no promises. Derek, who still idolizes her, solemnly follows her lead.
After their parents leave, they lay in the darkness for a while, pretending to sleep and giggling at each other when they make ludicrously fake snoring noises. Laura graciously swaps sides with her little brother when the dust beneath the bed sends him into a sneezing fit, and Derek shares the Snickers he stashed in his pillowcase.
They watch as the clock creeps further and further past their bedtime, but Laura waits until the clock strikes 10:00 before she gives the all-clear.
“Now,” she says, “now we can do what big kids do on real camp-outs.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Derek asks, shifting around so that he’s sitting across from her.
Laura doesn’t answer for a moment, rummaging under her bed until she eventually re-surfaces with a flashlight neither of them actually needs. She crows softly, then turns it on.
“Telling scary stories, of course. Duh.” And she moves the flashlight so it’s under her chin, the beam of light catching her eyes and making them flash an eerie blue-white. She grins widely, her lips stretching to bare her teeth, and Derek can’t help the whine that escapes his throat.
“This is a story that truly happened,” Laura recites, just as her cousin Alexander had when he told it to her, “not so long ago, and in a place not so far from here. In this place, like in many places, there lived a pack.
“The pack was a good pack, a strong pack. The Alpha had lost her mate a long time ago, but she still had her kid-cubs, like you and me, and she loved them so very much. She also had betas who were good and loyal, and humans, too, who kept the pack grounded. It wasn’t a big, big pack, but it was big enough for her.
“And she was a good Alpha. She took care of her pack like Daddy does, and she made sure everyone followed the rules. Everyone treated humans special, no one used their wolf-powers to cheat, and everyone ate food from the supermarket only, unless the deer population got too high.”
“‘Cause deer can be pests,” Derek interjects wisely; Mama told him so.
Laura, however, is unimpressed by his listening skills. “Shh!” she hisses. “Gosh, Derek, I’m trying to tell a story. Didn’t you learn anything in first grade?”
Derek mutters an apology and waits for his sister to go on.
“Hmph. Anyway. So everything was good, right? The Alpha and her pack were happy. They followed the rules, and the town loved them even if they didn’t know what they were.
“Except that one day, an omega comes into town. And not just an omega, oh no, but a feral omega. And you know what feral omegas are like. They don’t care about the rules, or the people they hurt, or about packs. This one just tore into town, not even a word of greeting to the Alpha.
“And the Alpha, well, she wasn’t pleased. She sent out two of her betas out to catch the omega and bring him back to her. Only she didn’t count on that omega being sneaky on top of everything else. But he was. He outsmarted her betas and escaped, and for two whole days they couldn’t catch him.
“They found him in the end, huddled in a stinky old sewer, but by that time it was too late. He’d already killed three humans, one of them a poor little girl, and ate their insides. Omegas are gross and wrong like that.
“The Alpha, being a good Alpha, did the only thing she could: she had the omega taken care of, and tried her very hardest to clean up the mess he’d left behind. She paid for the funerals, she gave money to the grieving families, she even had her betas keep an eye on them. But it was too late.
“A week later, on a calm, cool night, the Alpha woke up screaming. There was so much pain and loss in the pack bond, so many gone. She lay there in bed, so dizzy that at first, she didn’t even notice the man standing over her. He was tall and a little younger than she was, but his teeth were yellow and his eyes were cold and hard. He smelled like blood and silver and fire and wolfsbane, and in that moment she knew what he was.”
“Hunter,” Derek whispers.
“Hunter,” Laura affirms. “And the Alpha knew it, too.
“‘Who are you?! Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘We followed the rules! We don’t deserve this!’
“But the hunter said nothing, only looked over his shoulder at a boy not much older than the Alpha’s own son, who stood in the doorway. He smelled like blood and wolfsbane, too, and his cold eyes looked at her like she was nothing but dirt under his boot.
“‘Rules?’ the hunter-boy said. ‘Monsters like you ain’t got rules.’
“And it was then, just before they chopped off her head and set her on fire, that the Alpha knew exactly who had come for her.”
There is silence for a moment, the thudding of rain and two heartbeats the only sound in the darkness.
“Who came for her?” Derek asks finally, his voice even higher-pitched than usual.
Laura grins again, leaning forward to say, hushed and menacing,
Derek doesn’t sleep much that night.