Chapter Text
The world is a strange place. Although everything seems perfectly normal in the eyes of humans, beneath that surface is an underlying layer of supernatural. Legends of old written about as mere fiction, actually walk among them... feed upon them. Since the first creature evolved within the darkness of the human mind, others have stepped forward to protect the less fortunate. These entities, not human but with more soul than the creatures they hunt, wear their profession proudly. Hunters of the damned, both human and otherwise. The first of them all, a man named Chuck Shurley, developed a school for such oddities. He named it Eden and oversees the training of young minds. The goal of all students is to reach immortality like he has... like his many children have. With such longevity, they can continue the good fight for all eternity. The humans will be ensured a peaceful and oblivious life, taken care of by those determined to help... at any cost.
The brush is thick and rich with color, the scent of fresh dew clinging to the air stubbornly. Though the rain fell last night, the drops still saturate the leaves and ground beneath the noon sun. the wildlife has gone silent long ago, fleeing in the wake of a predator greater than themselves. The werewolf has been stalking these trees for almost a month now, quite enough time for the creatures to move on in fear. Humans aren't as smart, though. They linger in the camping grounds, blaming the strange turn in seasons for the absence of the usual life. Today, however, these werewolf isn't alone.
From within the leaves of a tree, a pair of glimmering green orbs blend in. They glance over to the tree across from them, catching the gaze of hazel there. The young man shifts upon the think limb, never stirring so much as a leaf in the movement. They heard of the werewolf's antics a few days ago, turning their sights to this very wood in order to stop it. His younger brother drops down to hang from his perch, letting go and crouching on the ground. He's going to play the bait, he's stronger than his sibling and the elder is faster then he.
It doesn't take long for the answering howl, the creature recognizing the scent of an intruder. Though it's noon, these creatures hold little regard to the beliefs of humans. Most weaknesses were added into 'fictional' texts as a way of ensuring security, those reading taking heart there's a way to protect themselves... they were wrong. The moon holds sway only toward the strength of these canine humanoids, they can change shape whenever they wish. Through the brush a hulking figure leaps, his form muscular and standing upon two legs. The younger brother stares it down with little fear, clearly unimpressed with the dominant show. The creature bows down, sniffing the air uncertainly at the sight of him. This human should be running, it should be screaming in panic and begging for its life. The scent of human is thick, however there's something beneath it... something obscured by the heavy smells of a too-packed human bar. The werewolf steps back, uncertain of this man and not willing to take the chance. Unfortunately for him, he backs right into a blade of silver. Without making a single noise, the other brother rushed up behind him. A quick thrust, containing too much power for a human frame, the silver blade is shoved between ribs and straight into the creature's heart.
“... Chi... mera...” the beast gets out before falling, the life leaving it's eyes.
“You okay, Dean?” the taller sibling wonders.
“Dude! Stop asking me that every time we go on a hunt,” the shorter snaps. “I was right behind it, nowhere near tooth or claw, they didn't even get a fucking chance to blink! I'm fine!”
“I can't help but ask,” the taller huffs. “You know it's like a reflex.”
“Stupid fucking alpha always thinking he so much fucking better than me,” Dean grumbles as he storms off. “I'm twice the fucking hunter he ever was and he still treats me like a fucking beta!”
“You are a beta, dumb-ass,” the other sighs in exasperation. “Just because you're technically an omega, it's the same damn thing. And chill out with the f-bombs! I know you're not happy about it, but that's no reason to favor a curse word... the other ones might get jealous.”
Dean stops a moment and looks back at Sam, his younger brother. The expression on his face is both confused and slightly worried for Sam's sanity. All the taller male can do is grin widely, chuckling at the situation before patting Dean on the back. They continue on their way toward the campgrounds, their job finished and their need for food getting to be noticeable... they sat up in those trees most of the day, after all. Sam glances over at Dean, checking him over for injury as he does every hunt they go on. The other is built with lithe muscle, his brown locks cut short and his attitude... well... usually devil-may-care. Green pools slide over for a quick glance, a frown touching his lips. He hates when Sam gets this way. He's shorter than his brother, standing at six-one and one-forth as opposed to Sam's six-four and a half. The height difference didn't used to bother him... because he was the taller one up until the younger hit his growth spurt.
“You want to take off when we get back, or eat first?” Sam wonders. “The diner you like is down the road.”
“Let's head that way,” Dean smiles, mood uplifted at the promise of good food. “Which way are we heading?”
“... I don't know yet,” the other offers. “I'll look for another job while we eat.”
Sam has interesting hazel eyes, usually locked in a thoughtful expression. They have flecks of gold and green within the iris, never really certain which color they want to take on. He's built much like Dean, but with a bit more muscle. They've been hunting since they were young, Sam having grown up in this lifestyle. Dean didn't have to learn until he was around seven. At that point in time, John Winchester's life took a nasty blow and they were dragged along for the ride. His wife, Mary, was murdered in a fire set by a creature. The two of them were promising hunters in their youth, but tried to retire in order to start a family... it didn't work out according to plan. After her death, he was back on the hunt in a fit of vengeance and the boys were taken along and taught the trade.
“Where do you think they learned it all?” Sam wonders.
“You ask that after every hunt,” Dean mutters. “And I tell you, every time, hell if I know. I remember mom saying something about a school or some shit. She said she thought we would go there eventually, but it's not a place you can enroll in... they have to contact you.”
“How can they do that if we don't have a home?” the taller frowns.
“Once again... hell if I know. Besides, why should we go?” Dean scoffs. “We're good enough as it is, there's no reason to hit the books for anything more than research. We're probably too old anyway. I mean... we're in our twenties.”
“A lot of people go to college in their twenties,” Sam points out. “Hell, they're starting to go a lot later than that.”
“I'm not interested in a freaking school, okay? You're the college boy, not me. Besdies... there's a test or something you have to pass. I... I can't.”
Sam opens his mouth to question him, yet holds his tongue. There's a sad and longing look in Dean's eyes that he knows well. As youths, their father taught them spells. They were basic and easy to master, but for some reason the two of them could never dictate the amount of power they pull from them. Instead of a campfire, they'd accidentally start a forest fire. In the hopes of creating a small puddle, they would conjure a lake and flood a town. They don't know why, but it's always been that way. As such, the two of them try hard not to use those spells. There's one, however, that has been an ace in their back pocket for the longest time... a creature summoning.
Creature summonings are rather easy, but depending on power level the choices are limited. A beginner can usually only summon an imp or small elemental. Sam is quite talented with the dead and Dean... well... Dean has always been 'go big or go home'. That attitude is reflected in his summonings. As such, he steers clear of them at all costs and normally only casts them if he's feeling particularly lonely. After all, a summon like that creates a bond between caster and beast. Though the limits are expanded as they grow stronger, the caster will always have a special place in their heart for their creatures.
“... I'm starving,” Sam decides on. “I'll race you to the car.”
“I'll kick your ass, you know I will,” Dean smirks haughtily. “I've always been faster than you.”
“I've always been hotter than you,” Sam teases. “Come on, I bet I'll beat you this time.”
“Dream on,” the other laughs
Together, they rush through the towering trees. They lost their father last year, due to a hunt gone awry, so they're all the family they have. They're not human, far from it, they're what their kind refers to as a 'Nightmare'. It's a term that sets them apart from the typical monster. John was a breed of chimera, said breed having gathered multiple types of mutations from their original ancestor... the lion with a serpent tail and the head of a goat upon it's back. Now, having been given plenty of time, this breed have acquired many more mixtures. To be a chimera now, is to be a Nightmare with more than one monstrous origin... possessing more than a single animistic trait. Unfortunately, John never liked to talk of their mother and they never got to learn what they inherited from her side of the family. It doesn't matter, though. Whatever it was, whether from mother or father, it keeps them safe from random attacks. It's something the rest of the supernatural world fears.
When they break through the foliage and come in sight of the Impala... Dean skids to a sudden halt and Sam nearly trips over him. Over by the car... Dean's baby... is a strange man. He's leaning on the hood, seeming as though waiting for the owners. There's something about him and Sam immediately doesn't trust. He sets a hand on Dean's shoulder, pulling him back into the shield of the forest. They don't want to alert him of their presence, not before figuring out how to approach him. Being as Dean is the omega in the family, Sam is automatically appointed his alpha. It may be his job to take care of the older Winchester, but in truth... they take care of each other. They've never been the typical alpha and omega. Right now, however, Sam is wondering if he shouldn't approach this man alone.
“What? Tell me that didn't just come out of your mouth,” Dean hisses after Sam relays his thoughts.
“There's just something about him, Dean,” Sam frowns. “I can't put my finger on it but.. I don't want him to know you're here.”
“Fat chance of that, my scent is all over that car!”
“I know, but... if he's up to no good, I want you to be able to either back me up... or get away.”
“... I brought my rifle,” Dean states adamantly. “I'll cover you from here.”
That's the best he's going to get from the other. Dean may have the scent of a beta, but he's always had the attitude of an alpha. That's the difference between the two statuses. John used to say it was a gift from his mother, a strange defect of sorts developed by betas through survival. Somewhere along the line, they realized they couldn't always depend on an alpha to protect them. As far as they know, it's a defect known only to their mother's ancestors. John had once told them there was a Valkyrie among them. With a sigh of reluctance, Sam jogs over to the impala while Dean pieces together his sniper rifle from the small suitcase. He's always enjoyed a blade more than a rifle, probably another personality defect from the Valkyrie. Not that he's complaining any, Dean's attitude can be quite refreshing as opposed to most betas he's around.
With a slight sigh, Sam studies the man he approaches. The guy has short but messy brown hair, a nicely tripped beard and mustache, and humor upon his features. With his torn jeans and gamers shirt, he seems for all the world the typical nerd... but Sam's learned not to trust appearances.
“Can I help you?” he calls, stopping at a safe distance.
“Sam Winchester?”
“... Who's asking?”
“I'll take that as a yes!” the man grins widely. “I'm Chuck Shurely, the founder of Eden. We've been watching you Sam... and your brother of course.”
That was the wrong thing to say, as a growl rumbles in Sam's chest and his eyes turn golden. They can watch him all they want, but to say they've been watching his omega brother... well... that just comes across stalker creepy. He won't tolerate perverts spying on his sibling. To be completely honest, Dean probably would've shot him when he admitted to watching Sam. They've always been rather over protective of one another.
“Not like that,” Chuck remarks hastily, reading Sam's thoughts. “I just meant... the two of you are rather impressive at your job. The world could benefit with the furthering of your knowledge on hunting.”
“What's your point?”
“I would much rather your brother be here and listening as well,” the man sighs in exasperation. “As opposed to aiming a rifle at my head, anyway. As much as I like to humor the youth of this trade, I never really enjoyed having guns pointed my way.”
“How did you..?”
“Trust me, I know a hell of a lot more than you would think,” the other chuckles. “It sort of comes with the level I've reached. Now please call him over... his finger is getting a little itchy next to that trigger.”
Though still unsure about this man, it's obvious they've lost the element of surprise. Sam waves his hand in Dean's direction, their usual cue to regroup. He may have sent the signal, however Dean can feel his hesitation. Something about this guy has Sam on edge and he doesn't like it. Dean stows his rifle, moving the blade sheathed in his boot to the back of his jeans waist. The older Winchester is usually rather fast, but having his weapon at the ready only adds to that speed. He may need it if Sam is worried about this stranger.
When he reaches his brother, Sam stays shoulder to shoulder with him. Chuck hums to himself realizing quickly that their alpha/beta relationship is an oddity. They see one another as equals and that rarely ever happens. While typical betas and omegas might be feisty, it's still uncommon for them to be able to go blow for blow with an alpha. They're faster, not stronger. These two seem to have perfected their partnership to make up for those differences.
“Hello, Dean, I'm Chuck Shurley. I founded Eden, the school your parents were taught at.”
“Wow, what a coincidence,” Dean spits out sarcastically. “Let me save you from wasting your time. Get out of my way so we can leave.”
“But...”
“I swear I'll fucking run you over, man,” he warns.
“... I should've dealt with the damn rifle,” Chuck mutters. “Boys, come on over here and help me out.”
“I knew it!” Sam hisses. “It wasn't just because of him, he has others with him!”
Two men step from the brush, one a limber male with too serious features. The one beside him is smaller, shorter, and has odd gold eyes with sandy hair. He sends them an impish grin, looking Sam over with an expression that borders lecherous. Dean immediately throws an extra knife at him, the other's eyes widening before he hits the ground.
“Damn,” he shouts. “You weren't kidding when you said to watch that one, he nearly took my head off!”
“It would've been an improvement,” the other scoffs.
“Shut up, Michael,” the shorter bites. “Or you just might end up with purple hair next week!”
Apparently, the other is just immature enough to make good on that threat. The one called Michael quickly quiets. Dean moves a bit closer to his younger brother. It's not for the feeling of safety, but to assure himself nothing will happen to his sibling. The closer he is, the faster he can deflect any attacks. Sam says nothing, he'd prefer Dean were close. Though he's much better with physical attacks, Sam is versed in a multitude of spells. A shielding spell is one of his favorites to use in situations like this... just to ensure they're safe. He casts it now, not needing the words. Chuck's eyes grow large at the feeling of power making his hair stand on end. There's only a few bloodlines that can cast spells without the use of verbal commands, his being one of them. As far as he knew, Mary and John were incapable of such a feat. Little does he know, however, that Sam had to teach himself how to cast without words. Dean doesn't like being protected like a precious gem in a vault, which is how Sam would set things up if given the chance. Whenever he starts with the words, Dean would interrupt him and charge into a fray without thought. If anything, their bloodline is a master of adaptation.
“Impressive,” Chuck smirks. “I thought I knew all about you two and your abilities, but I guess even I can be surprised. These are my boys, Michael and Gabriel. They're two of my oldest.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Dean bites out. “Because if you want me to run them over as well, I don't have a problem with it. In fact... I'll hit that one for the hell of it.”
Gabriel glowers at the nod his way, wondering how Sam can stand having a submissive that thinks he's an alpha. Chuck warned them not to speak of Dean's status, though, so he keeps his mouth shut... for now. Chuck steps closer, Sam's form tensing along with his brothers, and Michael is quick to stand beside his father. Gabriel is content to simply watch, never one to jump into a fight unless he can't avoid it. As it is... he can afford to let Michael suck up.
“I'm not looking to hurt you,” Chuck tries once more. “I merely here to invite you to visit the school. Unfortunately, it's a very secret place. You can't get there without one of us helping. Please, consider our offer. You two are highly skilled, but there's so much you can't do yet. There are powers in your bloodline that could hurt humans accidentally should they activate.”
“Like what,” Dean challenges.
“Well, for starters,” Gabriel interjects. “I happen to know a very loose gorgon that had a fling with one of your ancestors. She has this crazy ability to turn people to stone should they look at her. It's a pretty rare occurrence, but at least three of your betas managed to activate it. They had to be killed for being a danger to humans. Like you, they refused to attend the school. Though they had other reasons, mainly because they were being chased by like every alpha there. I'm not too sure why, their attitudes were worse than sour milk...”
“Okay, Gabriel, that's enough,” Chuck sighs.
“... Then again, I did hear a couple rumors while I attended the place,” he continues, undaunted. “Apparently, they were the mean type. You know, flirt like hell and when a guy tries to pick them up they'd turn on them. The betas in your bloodline are worse than the meanest dragons during mating season...”
“Shut it, Gabe!” Michael snaps. “God, you're such a freaking girl when it comes to gossip!”
“I am not!”
“Face it, that's when your beta really comes out.”
“You son of a bitch! Don't call me that!”
Chuck gives himself a face-palm, separating his boys before they go head to head. They're not helping matters at all. He really should've known better than to bring Gabriel, but he rarely gets to see the other as it is. One glance toward the Winchesters, though, and he's beginning to see the wisdom in his decision. Both boys have visibly relaxed, the shorter even humored at the sight. That's a win in his book, so he tries stepping closer one more time. Sam may glare at the advance, but Dean is too busy laughing to.
“Sam, I know you're interested in the school. I promise you it can offer so much more than what your father managed to teach you.”
“I'm not going anywhere without my brother.”
“And I don't expect you to. He's more than welcome to come, too. Even if one of you doesn't manage to get in, which I highly doubt will happen, the other will be allowed to live in the village as well.”
“Wait... village?” Dean questions. “Dad never said anything about a village.”
“I'm surprised he never came back when your mother... It's just... The village is the only safe haven Nightmares and Hunters have from this world. They're safe to be themselves and not be judged, to live a semi-normal life without having to worry about being attacked. When your mother became pregnant with you, I had honestly thought they would've taken up residence in the town. I even encouraged it. The world we protect isn't always the best place for us to live.”
The two are quiet at that, having learned that a long time ago. They've had close calls with people hunting them down. Like all of their kind, they can't stay in one place. They have to keep moving, which is why they don't have a home... just a car they live out of. They don't have jobs aside from hunting, gathering money with skilled pickpocketing and pool sharking. All their credit cards are in the names of multiple people, just to make sure they're hard to track. If anything, they live the lives of criminals on the run in the real world. To settle down someplace they're considered normal... it would be amazing for them. No more worrying about their features changing in a fit of anger, or being seen as a freak because they have animal-like qualities... such as Sam's growling or the occasional times Dean likes to chase down deer on foot. Hey, it's good exercise! Don't judge!
“... Dean?” Sam wonders cautiously.
“... I don't know,” he states, shaking his head stubbornly. “I think it's all a trick. If we can't get there without them taking us, how the hell are we supposed to leave? I don't like it.”
“I hate to say this, but... maybe they have a point,” Sam frowns. “I mean... turning people to stone? That's pretty serious, man. If we're capable of unlocking that ability... what else is swimming about in our blood?”
“Oh! Oh!” Gabriel says eagerly, waving his arm about in the air. “I know! I know the answer, pick me! Please, please, please! Pick me!”
“Uh... okay... what's the answer?” the taller wonders and Michael face-palms in embarrassment.
“Accidental hypnosis, poisonous nails and or teeth, the were-like ability to transform humans into another creature, teleporting people that piss you off to unknown whereabouts... I love that one, it never gets old,” he chuckles. “There's also the kiss of death, the draining touch, literally cursed words, the touch of a black cat...”
“Okay, okay, we get the point,” Dean growls out.
“... But... I was just getting to the good ones,” Gabriel pouts. “You didn't even get to learn about that one succubus that got preggers by a Winchester...”
This time, Sam's the one that throws something at him... but not a blade. He choose to hurl a rock at the other. Gabriel doesn't have time to dodge, lifting a hand to snatch it from the air. He thanks the stars it wasn't a knife. Sometimes he wonders if he should learn to keep his mouth shut. Then again, one look at Dean's face reddening with suppressed rage... and he's fairly positive this is far more entertaining.
The two Winchesters step back, gathering in a small huddle of two to speak. They keep glancing over toward the strange family, the golden-eyed male resorting to tormenting his brother with a frog he found. Unwilling to 'kiss the frog to make it a princess', Michael starts batting at Gabriel's hands. Before they can fall to blows, Chuck separates them once again. Obviously the place they live has a zero tolerance for bullying... they would've been killed the first day of school with attitudes like that. Well... Gabriel would've anyway. With a final sigh of exasperation, Sam and Dean turn to face the three. There's really nothing else for it, they have to know what they're capable of to protect those around them. They accept the invitation to Eden.