Chapter Text
Rebecca was a hunter. And she considered herself a pretty good one. She got in on the game after being rescued from a nest of vamps back in her early twenties. It was terrifying, but once she knew what was out there? She didn’t want to be the prey of that relationship. She lived her life that way: fight, hunt, burn, home base to stock back up, then start all over again.
She died. It happened a few years ago when she, well it doesn’t really matter how she died. Just that she did. This, and the fact that she was a simple hunter. She dabbled with a demon once or twice, but no deals, no mischief, and well, nothing stopping her from going upstairs when the predator was finally ganked.
here she sat, perched on a stool, in the hunters’ dive bar in heaven. Time passes strangely, and Reb loves her stories, so it worked out pretty nice for her. Most days were the same; a hunter could appreciate that in place without monsters. Not all of them were the same, a hunter’s heaven was always less monotonous than other parts of heaven. That's because hunters take risks, as they must when their prey are the ultimate predators. They are always dying.
Rebecca was not surprised when she first looked up from the bar at the two newcomers. But she scoped them out anyway.
Hunters, a little on the younger side, a little rugged. She could smell the traces of their tale from a mile away. They might have even had a good one; looks could be deceiving in the upstairs. People always returned to when they were at their best. Reb really appreciated how she looked. Her hair was long and her body very nice, if she did say so herself. It was Rebecca before hunting warped her. So this pair of men might have been in their nineties when they died, but she would never know; until she asked.
She was curious now, there hadn’t been a new arrival in a couple of weeks, so she was rightly bored. And they looked interesting. The story was worth the risk, “Heya boys,” she hollered across the bar.
The taller one startled before looking slightly down into Tall’s eyes. Their silent conversation lasted only a few seconds before they were coming her way. They definitely had a story to tell. Taller walked a bit behind Tall as they approached. And as they got closer, Rebecca realized that she hit the nail on the head with those nicknames. Tall was huge, and Taller really was gigantic.
“You like to hunt?” asked Tall, with his posture a bit cautious.
“Yeah, I’m a bit special, I like silver rounds. You?” riddles; the favored form of communication between hunters. The best way not to get arrested too.
“The same,” he responded gruffly.
“Nice,” her voice grew cheerier now, “I like to meet someone from the life. I love the stories.” Tall and Taller remained quiet and a bit confused, so Reb continued. “How about, we make a trade? I tell you a story of mine, you tell me the best one you’ve got to compare? That work for you?”
Tall looked back at Taller for a split second. Taller then shrugged, to which Tall responded with a frantic hand wave of his right hand as if statingI don’t care. Your decision not mine. Taller sighed, “Sure,” he paused, “what should we call you?”
“You can call me Reb,” she said swiveling her barstool in their direction” and what can I call you?”
Tall and Taller appeared to have a silent conversation. After a few moments of rolled eyes, shrugging, and a somewhat rough punch to the arm they realized that there was no harm in revealing their names up here.
Turning up the charm, Tall introduced himself, “Dean,” he smiled, “And this is my baby sister Samantha.” He motioned back to the gargantuan beast of a man behind him.
Taller cut in at this point after he sent a half-hearted glare to the other man. “Hi, I'm Sam,” a gentle smile passed the giant's face, “this jerk’s younger brother, I apologized in advance for…”
“So you said you want to play a game of show and tell,” interrupted Dean, clamoring onto the nearest barstool.
Although he was interrupted, Sam's response to this outbreak was a grin. Yeah, they were brothers alright. He then, much more gracefully than his brother, slid into another barstool. Sam scanned the room like a hunter would but nothin’ more. He wasn’t anxious to leave; he was staying because he was curious. Rebecca likes curious.
And Dean was definitely the more curious of the two. And Reb really didn't mean it in that way, because sure, these were two nice looking men, but she wasn't lookin’ for anyone. She had who she had and she liked it that way. However, she also liked new and exciting. Reb was curious and hunting never beat it out of her. So when she ended up upstairs? Her curiosity and oversharing only bloomed. What was the danger in starting a bar fight when you were already dead? So many more open ears when you got access all of the past Hunters. There were a lot of dead hunters, but she had been through most of the decent ones. This fresh meat was curious just like her and she was making the most of it.
“All right what's the word on Vamps? That's how I got into the business, and a couple of years later me an’ three buddies took down a nest of thirteen of those bloodsuckers.” Rebecca purposefully tossed her hair over her shoulder then plastered a smug look on her face to pull them in and get them to brag. It's like asking a bass fisherman about their biggest catch, they can’t help but try to compare now.
Dean looked back at Sam and after a briefly shared gaze his shoulders slumped and he took a breath. Rebecca knew this would lead up to an embarrassing story. Embarrassing stories we're almost as good as tales of heroism, if only because they're so rarely told. “One time I was a little,” he pinched his fingers together on the hem of his shirt and ground his teeth together, ”I don’t know, mad?” he looked up, “I don't even remember what over and well, um, I took off by myself.”
Sam jumped in, “He went by himself to a nest of probably twenty vamps,” he looked her in the eye while pausing for effect, “and when I got there,” he laughed, “he was cleaning his machete in a horse trough. He got a little angry so he ripped a whole nest to shreds.”
“Really?” Rebecca asked, “He took the whole nest down himself?”
“Yeah, and that's the more believable story,” Dean replied.
“So what's the unbelievable one,” she tossed back before taking a drink of a beer that showed up out of nowhere.
“Wait! Hey! How’d you get that?” Dean barked.
Reb shrugged, “I don't know, I just hold out my hand, it’s just always worked that way.”
“Cool,” Dean nodded, becoming completely distracted with attempting to pull a beer from empty air.
Sam laughed lightly again before speaking, “As for the more unbelievable story,” he glared lightly at Dean, “this dude here was best friends with a vampire for months.”
Rebecca leaned forward resting he elbows on the bar top, catching Dean’s attention, “Did you know?”
“Yeah I knew, I'm a hunter,” he replied sounding offended.
“And you didn't kill him?”
“No,” Dean said, looking at his beer. Rebecca stared wide-eyed at him. “What he didn't eat live people, just blood bags?” He said in a timid tone, she continued staring, “I trusted him with my life.”
“And,” she paused, her voice even and cautious, “where is he now?”
“He's back in purgatory, said he liked it there anyway.”
“Huh,” she muttered, at least the problem had solved itself, “didn't know hunters would do that.”
“Most hunters hated us for it,” Sam threw back.
“Roy and Walt sure did,” Dean huffed, “hated us enough to shoot us point blank with lead shot.”
“That how you ended up upstairs?” Rebecca asked, tilting her head to the side.
“That's how we ended up here the first time. We didn't like it too much then.” Sam said. Rebecca was a little confused now, but she didn't care. This was only one facet of their pretty unique story.
“Huh, what about shapeshifters,” she questioned, “I had one run around looking like me get me couple a’ shoplifting charges. I had to run out of town real quick once I took care of it.”
“A shapeshifter is what got the FBI chasing us in the first place. Leviathans then only came around to make it worse.” Sam supplied.
“Leviathans?” She squinted her eyes and looked at his face, he was dead serious. “Leviathans… what the heck are those?”
Dean jumped in with an explanation, “Just some borax-hating bastards that tried to take over the world. What year did you get up here anyway?”
“05,” Rebecca was a little confused, she must have missed something big. “What'd I miss.”
“What didn’t happen in the 15 years after that?” he responded. “Sammy got killed, I went to hell, I couldn't have a bacon cheeseburger, and he kept forgetting the damn pie,” he paused for a fraction of a second, “and like seven different apocalypses.
“That's what you remember Dean, no cheeseburgers and no pie. Really?”
“Hey! I remembered the Apocalypse.”
“Skipping past things I don't understand, what about demons? How many you exorcise?” These guys sounded like they might be the real deal. She genuinely wanted how many they sent down below.
“Um, I don't know. Sammy?” he turned his stool to face his brother.
“And I'm supposed to know?”
Rebecca spoke up, “Demons are a big deal. How do you not know how many you got rid of?”
“We lost count,” and now Reb looked pissed. Over his shoulder, Dean urgently whispered, “Sam puppy dog eyes, now! I don’t wanna die like this.”
Sam raised an eyebrow with a smirk, as if saying we’re already dead.
“Well, double dead!”