Chapter Text
Prologue
A man with short pitch-black hair stood in front of a burnt down house. He was of average height and his physique was difficult to see, as he wore a trenchcoat of a deep hue of blue, so dark it was often mistaken for black. He has his arms crossed and behind the black sunglasses he wore, his eyes glowed sapphire blue before fading into a blue so dark it practically matched his trenchcoat.
“Is it confirmed?”
“Yeah,” came an answer. The voice belonged to a woman with ruby red hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had a bright neon green tank top on, paired up with a loud orange shorts. This woman liked to stand out. “It’s the Alcott pack. All of them. They’re dead.”
The man in the trenchcoat growled.
The woman was holding a skull. She pointed to a hole in the middle of its forehead and continued, “Bullet hole. Most of them were killed with bullets, but some weren’t. Since there’s only bones left, we can’t really tell how they died, but... there’s not really much that can kill a werewolf other than a bullet.”
“Are you telling me werewolves did this?”
“No. At least, not all of them. Some of the bullet casings we found reek of wolfsbane, so they must have been hunters.”
The man groaned. “Hunters working with a pack? That can’t be good. I thought the Hales were all gone. Were we mistaken?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll look into Beacon Hills’ records and see what we missed. The Alcotts did say there was a hunter family living in town, the Argents I think--”
The man growled and the woman shut up. “The Argents?” She nodded. “God damn it, why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
“I guess the Alcotts didn’t think they were dangerous enough to refer to them by their names.”
“Not dangerous enough? Fools. The very first werewolf hunter was an Argent. They know what they’re doing.” He sighed angrily.
The woman asked, “Should we send someone to patrol the town? Check out the address we have for the Argents?”
The man shook his head. “No. We’ll not make the same mistakes the Alcotts did. We will not underestimate the hunters. We wait until the others arrive. Let’s go.”
The woman tossed the skull aside and wrapped his arm around the man’s waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and they began walking back into the forest.
“Look on the bright side, Josh. One less Alpha for you to worry about.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Yeah, replaced by a family of good hunters who are apparently working with a pack. Unbelievable.”
Dean Winchester sat on a chair in a small motel room. His brother, Sam, had just stepped out of the shower, naked apart from a towel wrapped around his waist. Castiel was sprawled on the bed, sleeping.
Dean didn’t even notice the presence of his brother. He was staring at Castiel, deep in thought.
“Hey Dean, you okay?”
Dean blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Sam frowned. The Dean that came back from Purgatory was not the same man Sam knew. It had taken Sam ten months to find a way to free Dean and Cas from Purgatory. The time has obviously changed Dean. Cas wasn’t even an angel anymore, just a regular human, which would be why he was fast asleep right now.
“Are you sure? You’ve been... different.”
Dean laughed. “Dude. Cas told me the time difference between Purgatory and here is twice the difference between here and Hell. You say I’ve been gone for ten months? That means I’ve been in Purgatory for 200 years. I’ve been fighting, but mostly running away from everything we’ve ever killed for two hundred years. Can you even imagine what that feels like? I guess I’m just... not used to sitting around doing nothing. This is stupid, but I just feel... so old.
“The worst part is... for two fucking hundred years, I haven’t had any pie. I’m going to get some now,” Dean announced, getting up and walking to the door. Sam’s cell phone rang. Dean stopped and turned to look at Sam. Sam sighed.
“Hello?”
“Hello?” An unknown voice said. “Am I speaking to the Winchesters?”
Sam pushed the speaker button and shrugged. “Yeah, this is the Winchesters. Who’re you?”
“My name is Chris Argent. I’ve been trying Bobby Singer’s number. It’s been disconnected? He gave me this number in case I couldn’t reach him. Could you give me his current number?”
“Mr. Argent, I’m sorry, but Bobby’s dead. He’s been dead for a while now,” Sam said. Dean looked down at the carpet, hiding the pain in his eyes from Sam.
“Goddamn it. Okay. Bobby always spoke highly of you guys... We’ve got a problem, do you guys think you can help us out?”
“What kind of problem?” Dean asked.
“The short version is, there’s a town in California called Beacon Hills. Several werewolf packs plan on invading it, very soon, and making it an all-werewolf town.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Dean lambasted. “A werecity? Seriously? Yeah okay, we’ll be coming as soon as we can.”
“Thank you. Call me back when you’re about to arrive and we’ll meet.” Chris hung up.
Sam said, “Just like that? We don’t even know who that guy is. What if it’s a trap?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t really care. I can’t sit around here and do nothing. Besides, I really want to send some monsters to keep those fuckers in Purgatory company. And hey, it's California. Let’s go.”
Sam sighed. Dean shook Cas until he woke up and filled him in. Once they packed everything they had up and loaded the Impala, Castiel and Sam boarded the car. Dean stood by the driver's seat and hesitated. He stroked the roof of the Impala and whispered, "Baby, I missed you so much," and climbed in.
“Before we go to Beacon Hills, we’re making a pit stop,” Dean said. Sam cocked his head, using his eyebrows to ask what they were stopping for.
“Pie.”