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"Do you think we’d be brothers and sister in another universe?”
The question slips from your mouth, you’re not even sure why’d you’d asked.
Sam, Dean and yourself are leaning against the Impala, wiping sticky blood from your machetes. Some mean vamp nest in Virginia that had to be taken care of. The night before you’d been eating lime wheels and licking sweet salt from margaritas, cheering for a sports game in a bar that everyone else seemed to know and care about besides the three of you.
You didn’t yet know about Chuck. You didn’t know much, except the fact you’re somehow alive right now, asking stupid questions.
Sam exhales a laugh, it mists in cold November air. You think that’s his answer so far.
“I don’t know,” Dean sighs, head beaded with sweat and hanging low, exhausted.
“Who else would we be, though?” Sam chuckles.
“Better than us, that’s for sure.” Dean sniffs, looking up at the starry sky to distract himself from the gnarly cut on his hand.
Somewhere, there’s three park swings occupied. After having pushed the youngest back and forth, the oldest kid sits rocking, gripping the chains, as his siblings swing upward furiously fast. He watches on in concern, as they squeal and beg for one more push. How can he deny?
Some place, three college students sit cramped around a computer in the campus library. Adorned in letterman jackets, surrounded by styrofoam cups of soda and soggy fries, greasy fingers fighting over the keyboard to study for upcoming exams.
Somewhere far, a photographer catches three animals in a national park, never seen interacting before. A beast with horns and staggering height, a small critter with a bushy tail and a swan gliding down the lake from which the animals drink. There’s a setting sun beyond the mountains, and a nature-calendar prize to be won, as the camera shutter clicks.
Some time back, there’s three knights, decked in shining armour, riding across the moors on bucking stallions. They canter across brimstone and heather to reach a fallen kingdom, to defend their crest and an absent King. When one knight is wounded, the other two cauterise the pain, and make a fire to sleep around. Because tonight, they will lay down their swords to let a brother rest.
There’s three actors on the set of a tv show, it isn’t very popular, and it isn’t very well known, but they love it. So these three strangers come together, each morning, every night, to play out scripts, shed authentic tears and raucous laughter. They prance about by the make up trailers, share meals in the catering tent and huddle together during takes. The show doesn’t mean much to anyone, but to them it’s what brought them together. Siblings on screen, and gradually outside the studio. One day these strangers will hold each other’s children, and be bestowed the name of Uncle or Auntie.
Somewhere there’s birds, coastal and gritty, flaked by salt. Flying over cresting waves and squawking victoriously when one catches a fish to share.
There’s a great migration somewhere, and a triangle of geese flock to a new continent, never losing form, never stopping, as they call out to each other when lost in a storm.
There’s three vampires, separated from their nest, blistering under a sunrise through speckled curtains. They clasp each others hands, and feel the sun burn. To do this is better than meeting a hunter’s blade, even together. Even in Death.
Somewhere there’s a company, a respectable place with respectable people who get up early in the morning and sip on kale instead of coffee. Dean Smith, head of Sales, Sam Wesson, the tech guy, and Y/n Harvelle, Head of HR. Today they will fight a ghost together, and try to play out of an angel’s hand. They will have found each other once more.
There’s three billiard balls on the pool table, and Ash is stretched over to strike. One ball in the mix could finish the game. They’re struck pointedly and are shot around with harsh clacks. “Quit messin’ around, Ash.” A tired Ellen yells as her daughter sweeps behind the bar.
“Whatever, wasn’t a good shot anyways.” He retires, watching the balls collapse into the same pocket.
In Baby there’s three small objects that rattle around. A small plastic army man in the ashtray, Legos shoved in the vent and a lucky penny in the glovebox. Even when she’s built from the ground up, those toys stay right where they need to be.
In Heaven there’s brothers and sisters, fallen or about to fall. They are no better than their father’s creations and no more perfect than each other. It is horrifying for these angels to be equal, and know that complacency in war means a ruined life for those you promised to protect.
There is War. There are sides. There is Up and Down. But there are always brothers and sisters.
In Bobby’s house, his door is kicked in furiously as a tired John trails behind three energetic kids. A chorus of ‘Uncle Bobby! Uncle Bobby!’s. The oldest will dig around in his toolbox and play with a wrench, smeared in oil. The youngest will splay out on the carpet in front of the fireplace on his tummy, reading through a storybook. And the little girl will sit on Bobby’s knee, trace an old werewolf scar, and giggle when he tells her she’s the prettiest girl in the world. John will leave, may be gone for months, but Bobby’s house will become a home.
Three wolves hunt together, stalking three deer. Two stags and a Doe. There will be claws and wails, blood and mirth, splattered grass. The wild dogs will shove their snouts into the deers’ ribcage and fight over scraps.
Two vicars and a nun pray in an abandoned church. No Father to listen.
Three demons will split a milkshake in a diner, tired of listening to Crowley’s whines. They play cards and curse people.
“Do you think we’d be brothers and sister in another universe?” The female demon will ask, as her brother helps her step out of a devil’s trap.
The youngest one will chuckle, his rotten lungs misting the air.
“What?” She shoves him.
“Well, what? You wanna be like those Winchesters?” The oldest sighs.
“They’re no better than us.” The youngest is snide, and then wraps his arm around her shoulders.
“It was just a question.” You roll your eyes, sheathing your machete as Sam opens the backdoor for you. You slide in as Sam and Dean simultaneously slam their doors shut.
“No more stupid questions until after we’re back at the motel.” Dean points back at you as Baby pulls onto the road.
“Fine.” You snarl.
Sam laughs. Fully laughs at Dean and yours’ bickering.
“Maybe it’s good we’re only together in this universe.” He says. And you suppose he’s right.