Nightmares of a Broken Winchester

Chapter 2: To Beacon Hills we go!

Upon a dark, gloomy night, cars sped down a lonely road in an ominus forest, with trees so high they looked like they were piercing the sky. Among these cars was a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, moving as fast it could go, with orange-colored street lights reflecting off the black coated steel. In this black impala, sat two brothers who were going over a few files they had gathered to complete a hunt in one of the most famous hunting sights in America. Dean and Sam Winchester were racing to a citizen in need.

"So what's this place called again," asked Dean as he continued to look ahead of the road.

"Beacon Hills," Sam answered as he kept reading the files on his lap.

Dean chuckled a bit but stopped when Sam turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Dean defended himself, "What come on! You should never name a town called Beacon Hills. It confuses people, especially if they love bacon." Dean smirked.

Sam rolled his eyes, wondering how they shared the same DNA despite the fact that they were completely different. The younger Winchester continued to read over the files he had collected back at the bunker. "Ah, okay. Well Beacon Hills is well known for many numerous werewolf attacks."

Dean scoffed with a sour scowl and whispered, "I hate werewolves."

"Okay, what else?" Dean asked.

"Well, the hunters in the area of the town say that some of the wolves aren't as violent against them and actually help with maintaining the supernatural chaos there." Dean raised an eyebrow, questioning why werewolves would help hunters out. It wasn't unheard of, especially since they had Garth as a werewolf and a friend, but such connections were considered rare.

"Also according to the map back in the bunker, Beacon Hills is surrounded by powerful supernatural force. Which is ironic because Beacon Hills is literally a beacon for most of the supernatural creatures. It draws them in like a fly to a strong light source. Interesting really."

Dean shrugged and said, "Well you know me, shoot first, research later." Sam mumbled a few insults to Dean as the Impala raced down the road and onto Beacon Hills. "So who sent us the SOS for help?"

Sam looked at his phone, "It doesn't say. The notification was from someone anonymous. Maybe it was a local or the victim."

"What are the pies like there?" Dean asked out of the blue. Sam shrugged and asked, "Look dude, I don't get why you're so obsessed with eating pie. You get mad if I forget it. I mean how are you not fat? You eat pie and junk food almost everyday."

Dean shrugged and said, "I guess it's just magic Sammy, just magic."

"Or it could be the black hole in your stomach," Sam countered.

Dean glared at Sam, "Shut up."

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

They sat there in a comfortable silence until Sam had to break it with the last question Dean wanted to hear, "How are you doing? With you know, everything?"

Dean gripped the steering wheel tightly. He knew exactly what Sam was talking about. "I'm fine, why are you asking?"

Sam stuttered a bit and continued, "Well I mean...Cas and Crowley are...dead. And mom's trapped in another dimension with the Devil, and most importantly, the spawn of Satan is free in the wind. I mean the first three weeks, you were a dick! How are you alright after it all? In glee even? Aren't you worried that something bad will happen to the people we still care about?"

Dean didn't answer, but his blood boiled in anger and his heart beated with despair. His 'happy' mood had been tarnished and was replaced by utter dispare. If he could, he would've punched Sam in the face. Of all the things they could've talked about, it had to be about Castiel, Crowley, and their mother. Out of them all however, the death of Castiel had affected him greatly, more than he imagined. He was more than their best friend, he was like a brother to them. They had to burn his corpse. They prayed and hoped that Chuck would bring him back like the times he did before, but this time, things seemed different.