The Monsters that Kill the Nightmares - Part I: Prologue
Prologue
She’d been sitting at the bar all night, nursing drink after drink and alternating between flirting with everything on two legs and rejecting the advances of any man brave enough to flirt first. Sam had been the unwilling victim of the former and had stood by as Dean pretended to be his suave and debonair self and flirt with the young woman.
Where the men before him had failed, Dean had miraculously succeeded, not only in getting her number, but in even convincing her to come back to their motel room with them. To say she was completely trashed was an understatement. Had she been there with a friend, she probably wouldn’t have left the bar with two boys twice her size and who looked at her like she was a meal. She would have gone home in a cab called by that friend, slept off the liquor, swore to herself never to drown her post-break up sorrows in copious amounts of vodka and whiskey ever again, and continued on with her life as normal.
But she wasn’t there with a friend. She did leave with the two boys twice her size. And though she didn’t become a meal, she would never understand the looks of devotion that passed between the two men as she writhed under their bodies, succumbing to the intense pleasure they gave her. And she would never understand why one of them drove a dagger through her heart that night.
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When you’re on the road your whole life, you don’t see things the same as everyone else. When your brother is the only constant in your life, boundaries about love, desire, and affection are bound to become skewed. And when you’ve grown up your whole life being taught how to kill things? Well, the line between good and evil is bound to become blurry - disappear even - if you’re not careful.
Sam had never thought the love he had for his brother was strange, wrong, ‘taboo’; he’d only ever thought of it as love. He may have thought himself a burden now and again though, which is why when his brother suggested they hunt something a little more “human” he didn’t hesitate to go along with it. He thought it was just an itch Dean needed to scratch: kill something that wasn’t hunting them for once. Because constantly defending yourself and the lives of people you don’t even know, often barely receiving a thank you before being driven out of town? Bound to drive a guy nuts. Dean decided he might as well do something to deserve getting driven out of town like a criminal for once.
So that’s why he went to Sam, suggested they hunt something a little more tame than wild monsters in the night. Sam would never suggest it, but he certainly wouldn’t stop Dean from doing it. That’s how they ended up in that sleazy bar that night, drunken woman hanging between them.
It was only supposed to happen once, just an itch that needed scratched. But the stupid thing about an itch is scratching it doesn’t make it go away. It just moves and grows until suddenly you’re pinning your little brother up against the wall, practically raping him - except for the fact that he hasn’t said ‘no’ and he’s making no movements to shove you off because neither of you can deny that doing it with a woman between you just isn’t cutting it anymore.
So it became a game - Sammy picked one night; Dean picked the next - the women always changing to see who could pick the best victim. The more she screamed the more fun it was. Sammy was good at picking screamers.
Yeah, when you spend your whole life pining after your brother, things get a little skewed.
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When you spend your whole life running from your family, life sucks.
Every sound in the night terrifies you. Every phone call stops your heart. Every knock on whatever door you have at the moment sends a chill of childlike horror through your heart. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder praying to whatever god exists that they haven’t found you. Praying that tonight you’ll sleep soundly and nobody will find you.
And then you find that one thing that keeps you safe. For Castiel it was killing. Small things at first: birds, squirrels, other woodland creatures. Then the prey got gradually larger. Bodies became more difficult to hide and prey became harder to silence. Castiel knew nothing of the supernatural and he didn’t want to. He just wanted to be strong and feel safe.
Cas never thought he would get caught up in the affairs of the Winchesters. But perhaps that’s what he got for moving on to bigger game. Sure he admired them; they had a body count he could only dream of. And so what if Cas was maybe trying to draw them out by killing the same way they had? It’s not like it would work or anything. But a small part of him hoped he could draw them out… because if he could draw them out, then maybe they could save him.