Chapter Text
The rain hadn’t stopped for nearly three days. The brother’s were lucky and grateful for it, even though it was anything besides comfortable. Their scents would be tossed to the wind, allowing them to have an advantage over the nest of vampires they had been hunting for nearly a week. They were completely drenched, and Dean was certain that there was a rash building at his thighs. If the rain would let up, then they would make it to the nest by nightfall and they could hurry this along as soon as possible.
Things never went the way they wanted, so it would be nearly midnight by the time they arrived. Knowing that there would be a fight soon, Dean’s nerves started to itch and pick at him. He ignored the anxiety and focused on making sure that his mare wouldn't slip through the mud. Last thing he needed was for Sam to give him a lecture.
His back was beginning to ache from being in the saddle for so long, and he was almost tempted to stop for a rest. Dean pushed the thoughts aside. Even if they did stop, the rain wouldn’t. They would still be cold and sore by the time they reached the nest. He looked to his side to see Sam’s form hunkered down in his cloak. It was a useless attempt. He was nearly as large as his horse, had been for years, and was trying to shield his eyes from the pelting rain.
Any other circumstance would have had Dean laughing at him for it, but he was in the same situation, more or less. He would have to remember to stop on the way back to the village to get him a new one if they had the coin.
Chances were they wouldn’t with all the inflation that had been going through the cities recently, but they weren’t above petty theft. They were doing their fair share of work. They needed to survive if they were going to keep people from dying horrible death after all. Not like anyone ever thanked them for it. There could have been a worse job to take, at least. Vampires weren’t terrible if the nest wasn’t too big.
The one they had gotten a hold of had been leeching off of a nearby town for the better part of a month, going on two. Four adults dead and one child by the age of ten missing. Chances were they took him to be changed, and Dean hoped that it wasn’t the case. He hated it when monsters would turn children. It would just make it that much harder to put them out of their misery. He didn’t let himself think about it. There would be time to down it with ale later.
Dean didn’t notice the divergence in the road until Sam turned his horse down an overgrown path to their left. Without a word Dean followed him. He was usually good with directions, but the consistent rain had him focusing on where to steer his horse out of puddles than to turn her to the roads. From what the locals told them, they would be reaching the nest in a few miles. They would be close when they reached a stream, so they still had time before they had to go on foot. The horses could use the rest, and the boys could too once this hunt was over.
It didn’t take long to reach the stream. There was an old bridge that went across that looked as though it had seen better days. The water itself was nearly overflowing to the top. Dean got off of his horse and clamored down into the mud. He began to unpack his knives and Sam followed suit. Weapons were priority, but Dean made sure to bring rope in case they needed to interrogate. If there was anything else that they would need they would come back for it.
His father’s sword glinted dully in the little moonlight that showed through the clouds. He sheathed it before it got too wet to actually get a good swing in. He led Baby to the nearest cover of trees and tied her reins to the nearest branch next to Sam’s.
He turned to his brother. “Are you ready?” he asked. Sam huffed and rolled his shoulders, a nervous tick he had before a hunt. He nodded and made his way to the bridge.
It was slippery and seemed to bend with every step. Once they crossed they kept their eyes open for any huts or cabins. With the wind blowing cold air along with any recent victims they might have picked off, they would probably have a fire going. It would be smarter to find their nest and then wait till morning to wipe them out, but Dean had a feeling that Sam wouldn’t want to do that. They had been sitting in the cold for too long, and it wasn’t going to let up soon. They would take them out as soon as possible and then take them back to the nearest dealer for their bounty.
Dean wiped at his face and spit at the ground. He hated the rain. He hoped the horses were doing alright. There was a flash of light and then a defining crack of lightning. It was enough for Dean to see a distant outline of smoke. He nudged at Sam and made his way through the underbrush. Dean dropped the rope next to a tree and hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it.
The two of them were crouching by the time they were in sight of the cabin. There was a small fire going inside from what he could see through the window, but the mist had made it hard to tell.
“How many can you see?” Dean asked.
“About four or five.” Sam said after a moment. “There could be more scouting around the area.”
“My thoughts exactly. One of us will push through from the front and the other will take the back. We should be able to take out the ones inside, and if there’s any more we can lure them in. Deal?”
“I’ll take the front. Wait for my signal?”
A part of Dean’s older brother instincts didn’t want him taking the lead, but he had to remind himself that he was an adult. He was perfectly capable of kicking open a door by himself.
Dean grunted out a response and was gone, moving slowly through the overgrown grass and to the backdoor. He watched Sam out of the corner of his eye until he was up the porch and out of sight. He unsheathed his sword quietly. He waited. There was a moment of anticipation that had Dean nearly clawing at his skin before he heard the bang of the door on the other side. He launched himself into the threshold and swung at the first pair of teeth and fangs that came at him.
It was almost at his throat before he sliced at it’s hand, nearly cutting it off. It shreaked out in pain and backed away, but not before there was another one behind him. It grabbed at his arms and chest, and Dean threw his head back in retaliation. The hold on him loosened and he turned and swung for the neck with all his might. The head rolled off and the body dropped after it. There was commotion from across the room but he didn’t have time to see what it was: the vampire he took a hit to earlier was back. It screamed and lurched for him sloppily, and it wasn’t long before Dean had another head to count. A quick look around the room told him that there were two left. Still no sign of the child.
Sam was in a waltz with the last two: one was pining him to the ground while the second looked unsure if it should help. Dean made the decision for it and lopped it’s head off from behind. Sam got his legs underneath its belly and launched it at the fire. He got up while it was stunned and screaming.
For a split second, it was all they could do as they watched it’s frail clothing took flame and frantically tried and put it out. Sam stepped forward and took it’s head from it’s shoulders. He cast a quick incantation that had the last bits of flame out in moments. Dean didn’t mention that it was too small to do any real damage, but he knew that Sam had been putting in any kind of practice that he could. He was getting better, too.
Dean looked at the damage. Five vampire heads laid motionless on the floor, a table and chair was overturned, and the front door frame was cracked. The stove was covered in what seemed to be dried blood, but empty. He had a feeling that they had gotten them all, but he wasn’t completely sure. There was a room off to the side that had the door closed, and they still didn’t know if there were any outside. Sam and Dean looked at each other before quietly making their way across the floors. Dean gripped at his sword and Sam made a grab for his dagger. He took a breath to try and relax himself a bit before he turned the knob and rushed inside.
The first thing he noticed was that the boy was sleeping, not dead. He and another, older girl were laying on a pile of straw with his head resting in her lap. She was awake and looking at them both. From the firelight that came from the main room, he could see that she was thinner than she was supposed to be at her age. Her hair was grimy enough to look like she had just come in from the rain. She had her arms wrapped around the boy’s shoulders and head protectively.
Dean put away his sword, and Sam lowered his dagger. Before he got the chance, she spoke to them in a cracked voice.
“He hasn't been turned yet.” she said. “They’ve been draining him instead. They were reckless in their last hunt, so they took him so they didn’t have to go back.”
“Is he alright?” Sam asked. She nodded.
“How about you?” Dean said.
“I haven’t been here long, but I don’t want to be here any longer…”
“Are you turned?”
She nodded. “He’s awake, mostly. They fed off of him when they woke up not too long ago. He needs a doctor.”
Sam cautiously moved forward. He knelt down and checked the boy’s pulse, while keeping his dagger raised. He lifted up his lips and poked around at his gums before turning and nodding at Dean. He grabbed at a moldy blanket from the corner and laid it over top of him. He carefully lifted the child into his arms and walked out. He gave Dean a careful look as he went past without a word.
The sound of rain pelting against the roof was the only thing making any kind of noise. The girl (though she didn’t really look like a girl), stared at him. Dean shifted his weight. He knew what he had to do, and she knew it too. He waited until he heard Sam nudge the door open and walk out of the cabin before he once again pulled out his blade. He didn’t want to bother with small talk. It would just make it harder for him, and easier for her if it was a trap. It almost felt like one, but instincts told him otherwise.
She stood up from the makeshift bed and swayed weakly in front of him. She seemed to notice his unease, and tried to give a smile to him. He wished she hadn’t. As he drove the blade down into her neck, he pretended that she was a killer. A true monster. But he knew that she must have been lovely in another time.
***
The rain had finally started to let up by the time Dean had gathered all of the heads and piled their bodies onto the open fire in the main room. He had reluctantly taken the girl’s head with him, putting her’s at the bottom of the sack in case the boy might have caught a glimpse. Who knew what they made him see while he was there, and Dean didn’t want anything added to the list. Sam carried him back to the horses and was ready to go by the time Dean got back. He wanted to snap at him for waiting instead of going to get a doctor, but he supposed that he hadn’t taken too long with the clean up. It was still cold though.
For the next few hours they led their horses in a walk as the rain died down. When it was dry enough, they picked up the speed. They would have to stop at the village they had gotten their information from and see who the kid belonged to.
They fed whatever food they could spare to him and watched as some of the color started to come back to him, but he was still weak. Five vampires feeding off of a child that wasn't even as tall as Dean’s elbow meant that he had lost a lot of blood. He slept most of the time and didn’t say much. They didn’t mind. How could you say something after all that?
It took another four days to get back to the village. Dawn was just breaking as they rode through. Some people were up, and they pointed them in the right direction to the child’s home. His mother started to weep when she opened the door and found Dean holding her little boy in his arms. She took him without so much as a glance from the other two and laid him down on a proper bed. His father had tears welling up in his eyes as he gave them a small pouch with some coin in it. They didn’t want it, but they needed it. They left as soon as they came.
Another three days went by. The blood began to seep into the cloth and in other areas of their sacks. Dean had Sam wash the bags in a river while he got to work removing some of the vampire’s teeth. They could use them for spells or sell them to people who made them. He kept two of them for a charm necklace that Sam wanted to put protection spells on and put the rest in a spare jar. By the fifth day they finally made it back to town. It was midday, and they were sore, reeking of sweat and blood, and were in desperate need of their own space for a few hours.
People didn’t bother glancing their way as they rode through. No one bothered them, no one asked them questions. They were Hunters: it was their way of life to help people, and in return to not mention it to anyone. The guild was very serious about it’s privacy.
They rode until they made it to the town square to get off their horses. The brothers led them to the Bounty’s Office and tied them up at the posts. Dean unpacked the vampire heads and Sam untethered the wraith essence and the spare vampire fangs that Dean had harvested.
When they entered the Office, it looked more like a regular trading post. At first glance, the furs lining the walls looked like normal fox or rabbit. By closer examination it would actually be werewolf pelts. Warding sigils were carved into rosemary and hunting knives, different types of maps were labeled with known whereabouts of ghouls, changelings, and all kinds of other creatures that Hunter had labeled. At the back of the store, the owner could be heard shuffling around.
“Bobby?” Dean called out. “We’re back.”
“Well it’s about time!” he rang out. “I was beginning to wonder if I should send out a search party.”
“For us? Never.”
Bobby emerged from the back holding a cylinder of something bubbling, and a bowl of what looked to be the process of ground up bones. He had on his apron, which meant that he was touching up his alchemy skills again. Dean figured that he must have been working for a while. A thin layer of sweat was starting up at the man’s brow. He looked tired, but focused, as usual. When he got a good look at the two of them, his nose recoiled.
“Where the hell have you two been?” he asked. “The two of you smell as though you went for a swim in an eel infested swamp.”
“Well, we haven’t gotten the chance to bathe yet.” Sam replied shyly. “We have the bounty.”
Bobby grumbled and thrust the bowl of ground bones at Dean and traded him for the netted heads. They followed him to the spare room.
The Bounty’s Office was a front for the Guild. What was normally meant for robbers and thieves, was truly meant for werewolves and things of the night. Monsters weren’t very common in Moondor, but there were always things slipping into the mountain region from their neighbors in the west, Infernis. The brothers had travelled past their home countries' lines and into the infested country more than once to deal with a problem that had broken the boundaries first, and it was always dealt with.
The walls of the Bounty’s Office were covered head to toe with books on any kind of lore and information about monsters that Dean had ever seen in one place. The whole room smelled like tobacco and aged paper, neither of which had his empty stomach feeling well. Dean set down the bone bowl on top of a pile of books on Blue Devils and Sam offered the jars of fangs and wraith essence. From there, they let Bobby count out their pay, and they all sat in easy silence.
Dean took the first chance he got at taking up an empty chair. Sam wandered off to most likely look for some food or a wet rag to wash some of the grime off of him. He was right. Moments later Sam returned looking cleaner and a little red. He offered him the rag he had used and Dean took it with gratitude.
“So,” Bobby started. “Everything went well?”
“Everything except for the rain.” Sam told him. “It kept our scent from getting to them but it didn’t stop for almost four days.”
“You poor babe.”
Dean could see Bobby smirking from under his beard as Sam gave him a pouty look. Dean closed his eyes and listened to the two of them talk about the details of the case. He let himself relax for the first time in days. No rain was there to pelt at him, he would go back to their hut and have a proper meal, and a bath. He was not hunting anything, he reminded himself. He was listening to the sound of wood shifting underneath him and breathing in the smell of tobacco.
Sounds drifted in from the square; chickens and horses and common chatter. It was cloudy and cool outside, and it cast the room in a faint blue hue that had Dean’s eyes drooping. He listened to his brother and Bobby chat before cutting in with a question.
“Any word from town?” he asked.
“What, you mean a possible job or just the basic mindless gossip Pamela has over at the tavern?”
“You tell me.”
Bobby huffed, but indulged him. “Well, I do have news about a case, but I think it to be far-fetched. Not like you would ask me, anyway.”
Sam sat up from his chair across Bobby’s desk. “Why is that?”
“For starters, the only time I ever see either of you is when you need something from me.”
Both boys started to make protests. They’ve been busy, they visited with him at the equinox, the issue went both ways… Bobby waved them off. Dean did feel bad that he didn't visit with the old man more often, but it was true that they’ve been keeping busy. From what he heard while on the road, Guild members were keeping themselves occupied. More and more monsters were showing up. Sam suspected that it was because of the moon and season's cycles, but Dean didn’t bother to understand any of that.
“Do not close yourself off to us.” Dean said to him. “What is it about this case that has your nerves at an end?”
“I never said anything of it being on my nerves,” Bobby declared. He stopped himself and huffed through his nose.
“Ah, hell.” Bobby muttered. “If you insist, people from over west came into Pamela’s about two nights ago talking about a poltergeist that they claimed had been upsetting their town. The issue is, they were mad drunk, and one of them kept saying that it was just children pulling pranks. My guess is that he was going off because he heard that there’s a Guild Office in town. So it was likely to give himself some attention.”
“That normally is the way to go about it.” Dean said. Then coming up with a thought, “Why don’t you sell this place, Bobby? You could get yourself a nice coin for all of these troubles. You could retire, settle yourself into a nice chair, it would be grand!”
Dean flicked his finger at the crushed bones and smiled at his uncle. Bobby gave him a sour look and snatched the bones away.
“Very funny, boy.” he grumbled.
“Just out of curiosity, what kind of things did he say was happening?” Sam asked.
“Just the normal rants of a drunkard. Things disappearing and then showing up in odd places, strange weather, animals acting strange, you know the story.”
Sam pulled a face. “That could be something.”
“I don’t care. I refuse to waste my time and resources on a could. If you want to know more about it then go speak with Pam. I’m certain she wouldn’t mind seeing either of you.”
As tradition, he refused to give them another case until at least a week went by. Usually to give them their rest, and to let other Hunters in the guild have their chance at some coin. He counted out their pay and kicked them out soon after, telling them to come back when they didn’t smell like a skinwalker. The brothers once again made their way out of town. Meg and Pamela waved at them from their chairs at the tavern porch.
Their cabin was two miles out of the way, sitting snugly on top of a hill overlooking the river. They had ridden the trail so often that the time passed in a blink of an eye. It was old but well worn. It belonged to an old hunting buddy of Bobby’s before he got himself killed on a hunt. Bobby didn’t know what else to do with it so he gave it to Sam and Dean, free of charge. It was as good as they were going to get. The walls were sturdy and the hearth was warm, so it was home. No matter if it was too creaky or the floorboards had started to bend over the years. It was more than they ever got before.
It took Sam a while to get used to the idea of a single roof covering his head, but now, nearly three years later, he was willing to defend it with all he had to give. Dean was just as willing. Neither of them had a true home during their youth. It was always cheap taverns or out in the woods.
The horses needed to be taken care of, so he let Sam have first take of the bath. They unpacked their bags and Sam took them inside to be sorted through. Dean led the horses to the stable. The roof looked over due to have it’s patchwork fixed, and the hay looked soaked through. The rain must have hit the town as well. Even when they weren’t hunting, there was always work to be done. He let his muscle memory do the work for him as he brushed the horses down. He cleaned out their hooves and found some dry hay for them. He saw Sam come to and from the hut, filling up a bucket from the pump until he finally disappeared from sight.
The forest surrounding them was calming. Birds called out to one another overhead. Dean could count six deer at the bottom of the hill, just past the fence, that were resting at the river. Even the sun felt brighter overhead. For a moment, Dean let himself enjoy it, simply because he could. For those few minutes, he forgot about hunting and wondered if the water down at the river would be good enough for swimming. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to save some water from the pump.