Chapter Text
“Hey Dean, get this. Dickens, Texas. Livestock missing or found torn apart. No blood."
Dean looks over, “Chupacabra?”
“Maybe. Ranchers are saying a pack of wolves.”
“We should go check it out. If it is just a normal wolf pack then we can try and gank ‘em.”
“Dean, the town will be crawling with wolf hunters, professional non-supernatural wolf hunters. Why would we even try?”
“There’s a reward, right? For killing the wolves?”
“Yeah but—“
“No buts Samantha, we try and get the wolves, or the chupe, get the reward and head to Tombstone.”
“Speaking of Tombstone, do we need any more salt rounds or iron pellets?”
Dean rummages through their bags, “Nah I think we’re good. We got some new bottles of lighter fluid too and three giant bags of rock salt in the trunk. We got regular bullets but we’ll need more silver bullets.”
Sam nods and it down on a growing list of items to get at the next hunters’ store.
“Get some sleep, we ride at dawn.”
“Dammit Dean.”
“Calypso! Where are the iron pellets?”
“Last time I checked they’re by the wolfsbane.”
“Why the fuck are they there?!”
“Language.” Calypso sighs and enters the storeroom, “Artemis, this is a chupe hunt. Regular bullets work fine.”
“But aren’t we goin’ to Tombstone?”
“‘Mis, we live right here. It’s not like we need to go straight to Tombstone after this.”
“Cal…is this really a Chupacabra?”
“All signs lead to a chupe. What else could it be?”
“Could be wolves. Chupes don’t normally hunt in packs.”
“It is the Apocalypse.”
“Looks, just because one guy-“
“One angel.” Calypso argues.
“-one angel said it was the end of days doesn’t mean it’s true. The guy even said he’s been off Heaven’s payroll for a long time. He sells souls for God’s sake!”
“And you slept with him.”
Artemis glares at Calypso, “that’s beside the point.”
The elder girl sighs, “Whether it’s the Apocalypse or not, you have to admit weird shit’s goin’ down all over the place.”
“You make it seem like we’re the only hunters, sister. It’s just a routine chupe hunt, we’ve killed tons of ‘em. And if there’s more than one, there’s more than one. They’re a bit better than a pack of werewolves and definitely the easiest hunt other than a salt-n-burn.”
“I know we ain’t the only hunters, some will be passin’ through towards Tombstone. Place is crawling with spirits.”
“Spirit hunts are best done in large groups, I know.”
“Damn right you know. Let’s do this. Gas and salt in the truck already?”
“You know it. Rifles have been ready since last night and our ammo’s in the case.”
Calypso grins and puts her hair back into a ponytail. She grabs her gun, a sleek Remington Magnum-a gift for Christmas from some estranged relative or another- before making her way to the garage of their ranch estate. Artemis follows her older sister, carrying her .22 semi-automatic Thompson.
The two groups of hunters meet outside the edge of the town, where the last ranch ends and the expanse of the desert begins. Their meeting isn’t on the nicest terms as Artemis nearly shoots Sam in the head.
“Woah! Watch it!”
Artemis refuses to put the gun down, “Name and business. Not that it’s goin’ ta make a difference after I blow your brains out.” Behind her, Calypso pulls out a modified Swiss Army Knife equipped with a silver, iron, and demon blade.
Sam looks over at Dean, “We’re hunters.”
Calypso sees her chance to speak, “Ain’t nothin’ worth hunting here, boys. Now tell us who you really are.”
The males share a glance before Dean speaks, “Sam and Dean.”
“Last names too, honey.” The term of endearment is purred out with a bit too much sweetness for the raspy voice of Calypso.
“Winchester.”
Artemis readies her gun, “I call bullshit.”
A wispy growl breaks the concentration of the four, “Shit! If you’re really who you say you are, help us with these chupes!” A pack of three chupacabra bounds out of the thin brush, circling the group. The leader lunges for Artemis, who shows her namesake as she shoots it right in the heart. It hits the ground with a sickening crunch of bone and dried foliage.
“Behind you!” Calypso calls while crouching, twirling to stab an oncoming chupacabra in the neck. She pulls the knife out only to throw it into the thigh of another.
“How many are there?”
“Obviously three.”
A shot is heard from the brambles the Winchesters are in, “Yeah, no, not three!”
Another two chupacabra pounce on Calypso, eliciting a squawk from the hunter. Three rounds go off as Artemis shoots the creatures off her sister.
“Fuck.” Calypso stands and nearly falls again, shirt ripped in various parts and covered in blood-both hers and the monsters’.
“Cal!” Calypso shakes her head, there will be time to tend to wounds after the hunt. Artemis nods and scans the area, stance shifting slightly to announce a lull in action.
“The amount of livestock depletion is not proportional to the number of chupes. Where did they all come from?”
“Possibly from different areas?” Sam and Dean return from their edge of the brush, carrying three more carcasses.
Calypso shakes her head, “No, we’re the only area affected. There have been no accounts from anywhere else about possible activity.”
Once more, a growl sounds from the brambles, “Oh come on!” Dean yells, shooting blindly in the general direction of the noise. There’s a yelp and one last chupacabra limps out, mouth frothing. Artemis ends it with a quick shot to the head. They stand, panting, surrounded by nine corpses of blood -sucking canids.
Wings flap from behind Dean and a gruff voice is heard, “You called?”
“Yeah like twenty minutes ago! Dammit Cas where were you?” Dean seethes.
Castiel tilts his head in his signature way, “I am in no way at your beck and call, Dean. I have other tasks to attend to besides managing your wellbeing. You were in no way going to be harmed so I saw no reason to arrive.”
Both Calypso and Artemis stifle their laughter while Dean glares at the angel.