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There is a statue, a statue that welcomes all to the Hallow Estate.
Two men stand tall, six feet of bronze; a memorial to a pair of brothers who had saved the family.
The shorter man is in mid-stride, standing in front of the taller one, a shot-gun in his right hand and .45 in his left, a devil-may-care smirk plastered on his face. The younger one watches the sidelines, head cocked as if listening for something, a curved knife in his left hand and journal in his right.
“Without them,” the man smiles to his two colleagues, “My family and I would not be alive today. And my company would never have existed.”
The super-stretch black limousine slows and the guests gawk and the woman begins to cry. She remembers, remembers the men who saved her, saved her boys.
“Who are they?” asks Norman Johnson, he’s heard the rumors about the statue, but has never seen it in person and he’s slightly offended because no rumor could have ever been able to describe the emotion those frozen faces bring up.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” smiles Emma Hallow, closing her eyes as she looks over at the monument. “They saved our family.”
“What from?” Johnson questions further, he’s a reporter, asking questions was in the job description.
“So many things,” Charlie Hallow says, his face carefully hides any emotion. The Winchesters had saved him and his family on multiple occasions; always coming back to make sure that everything was still okay.
“Are they-?” Johnson leaves the question open.
“Yes,” Emma smiles. “A car accident took one, and then the other-,” she paused, “the other couldn’t bear it.”
Nikane Nimanchi, the Hallow’s accountant, speaks for the first time, “Were they lovers?”
“Brothers,” Charlie corrects him. “They were constantly quarreling over the most trivial things,” he smiled fondly as if he talking about his own sons, “they cherished everything they categorized as important.”
The limo speeds up and leaves the bronzed brothers behind, the two guests turn to continue to take in every detail they could from the backseat.
The Hallows say good-bye to their guests, and their two young boys - twins - loosen their ties and plop down on the couch, exhausted from the long night of politeness.
“Are we really named after those two men outside?” the elder twin asks after a while, he’s asked the question before and all ready knows the answer.
His mother nods and says, “Yes. And if you had known them like your father and I had, you would not be so quick to complain.” She taps her child on the nose and smiles sadly.
- Eight years ago -
The Winchester brothers danced up the steps of the large office building, their suits fitting them in just the right places and turning heads in the process.
They had accepted a call from a family that they had helped countless times before. Dean pulled open the double glass doors effortlessly, “Brains before beauty,” he smiled and bowed at the waist, ignoring the way his brother rolled his eyes.
They entered the building and strode along it’s many hallways and riding it’s many elevators, Dean pinching Sam’s ass whenever he got the chance because he always loved Sam in a suit and never wasted a second reminding Sam of that fact.
“Are you boys lost again?” asked a familiar voice. The Winchesters jumped and turned around; they were now face-to-face with Charlie Hallows. At the bashful smiles, he continued, “How many times you been here, now?”
“Six or seven,” Sam smiled, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Charles.”
“You, too, Sam,” Charlie took Sam’s much larger hand within both of his own. He then turned to Dean, “The same goes to you, my good sir.”
“You always know how to make me blush,” Dean smiled and lowered his eyes to the floor.
“So,” Sam put his hands into his pockets, “What can we do for you?”
“Yeah,” Dean copied his brother, “Who can we do for you?”
“Fucking bastard ghosts and all their-their ghostiness!” Dean growled under his breath as he slammed the trunk of the Impala closed. “Why did we take this job?”
“Because Charles’ wife is pregnant with twins and he promised you that if we completed the job he would name them after us,” Sam explained from his spot in the passenger seat.
Dean smiled slightly. “Oh, yeah.”
The Winchester brothers drove to the five-star hotel where Charles and his wife were staying. They delivered the now poltergeist-free mansion’s key. Charles smiled at his hand, at the key, then at his wife. He offered to put the brothers up for the night, the brothers declined, there were signs of a Wendigo in Oregon.
Dean never saw the other car.
Sam awoke in the hospital to the teary face of Mrs. Hallow. When she told him the news, he closed his eyes, and just gave up. The doctors were never able to revive him.
- Present Day -
There is a statue, a statue that welcomes all to the Hallow Estate.
The shorter man is in mid-stride, standing in front of the taller one, a shot-gun in his right hand and .45 in his left, a devil-may-care smirk plastered on his face. The younger one watches the sidelines, head cocked as if listening for something, a curved knife in his left hand and journal in his right
The plaque on the pedestal, in an elegant script, reads:
The Winchesters
Sam and Dean
2005
No other words were needed.
None at all.
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End.