Chapter Text
-Prologue-
'Saving people, hunting things. The family business.' - Dean Winchester
May 27th 2006: Masters
“Tom, I already told you, you can’t come with me. Now shut up about it.” Nate sighed, packing his overnight bag. At the age of twenty-three, for his younger brother Tom, who had just turned thirteen, it really wasn’t his place at a birthday party. Nate did his best to spend as much time with his siblings as possible, but it was hard with his brother. With ten years between them, it was difficult to find similar interests. With his sister Emily, since she was twenty, it was much easier to find things to do with her.
“Please, Nate! I swear, I won’t get in the way. I just wanna see what it’s like,” Tom whined, desperate to hang out with his brother. He idolised him, copied his every decision, tried desperately to be as good of a witch as Nate was, even if he wasn’t as gifted. Nate found it annoying as hell, as much as their mother tried to remind him that it was sweet.
“I said no, man. It’s for grown-ups,” Nate groaned, searching through the piles of spell work on his desk to try and find the keys to his truck. This party was not the place for a kid. He wasn’t even telling his parents exactly what it was. There would be alcohol, drugs. And his father, Tony, a, ex-marine was the most anti-drug guy you could come across. Nate would have his ass kicked if he came back smelling the tiniest bit of weed, never mind if he dragged a thirteen-year-old down with him. “Have you seen my keys?”
Tom wasn’t a good liar. They played this game far too often, too. Nate would head out somewhere, his little brother would hide the keys because he was annoyed that he couldn’t tag along. “I don’t know.” The boy lied, too slowly.
Nate groaned and grabbed his backpack. “Tom, I swear to the Gods, if you don’t bring me my keys right now, I’m not taking you out again. No cinema trips, no paintballing, no nothing.” He warned, his expression serious.
The boy’s eyes widened, and he considered the risks. It wasn’t worth it. He sighed and pulled the keys from his pocket, looking up at his brother with such childish disappointment. “You never wanna hang out with me anymore.” He said, handing his brother the keys and sulking off to his own bedroom, shutting the door.
“Tom!” Nate sighed, “That’s not… true.” He murmured, rubbing his face and telling himself not to feel bad. The kid would forget by tomorrow. He was probably on his games console already. He pushed his keys into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, quickly replying to the flurry of ‘where are you’ messages from his best friends, Dylan and Jade. A laugh from the hallway pulled his attention away, and he saw his sister leaning against the doorway.
“He reminds me of me,” Emily hummed, tilting her head to the side. “’Oh, Nate, can’t I have just one sip of beer?’ and you’d tell me to wait until I turned sixteen. Then when I did, you told me the rule changed to eighteen.” She laughed.
Nate laughed too, shaking his head. “I do what I do to protect my sweet sister from the poison that is alcohol.” He grinned, placing his hand over his chest in faux love and care.
“Oh, shut up. You get away with everything.” Emily laughed, shaking her head. “You were drinking when you were like thirteen. Now I’m twenty and you still won’t even let me come to this party.”
“Can’t help that I was so cool as a teenager, Em.” Nate hummed. “And I think you’ll find the drinking age is still twenty-one. Besides, you don’t wanna come to this thing anyway, it’s not emo enough for you.” He teased, putting his phone away and making for the door.
Emily rolled her eyes and moved out of her brother’s way. “You know he admires you. You really should spend more time with him.” She sighed, bringing the subject back to their baby brother.
“Don’t make me feel bad. You sound just like mom,” Nate sighed, heading down the stairs, as Emily followed behind him.
“Yeah, and when is mom wrong, exactly?” His sister laughed, raising an eyebrow at her.
Nate laughed, opening his mouth to reply before their father’s voice bellowed from the living room.
“Nathan!”
“Saved from my sister by the kraken. Great.” Nate sighed, before heading into the living room to find his mother and father. “Yes sir?” He asked, all seriousness returning to his body. He didn’t want to piss off his dad, but it seemed he wasn’t in too bad of a mood, as the man got up to speak to him.
“Don’t be late home tomorrow, and do me a favour, don’t drive drunk, alright? Be sensible. And watch that friend of yours, Dylan. He’s a real lightweight.”
Nate let out a laugh. “Yeah, he is. And yes, sir, I will.” He promised, “You don’t have to tell me this stuff every time, you know?”
“I know, I know… It’s just…” Tony raised his hand and laid it on his son’s shoulder, urging him out of the room. “Your mother’s been having dreams. Bad things. She doesn’t understand them yet, but… Every time you leave, she’s obsessive, doing the… magic and the… shit to protect you… God, you know I don’t know shit about it, I just fight the fucking ghosts she sends me after. She’s convinced it’s a premonition, so just… for her sake, be good, alright?” The man sighed.
Nathan nodded his head. “Yes sir.” He promised. He wasn’t sure how to take the information, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t shake him with fear, but if his mother couldn’t see the details yet, then… He couldn’t exactly prevent it. He wore the protection he could wear, always, but that was all he could do in the realm of white magic – of which, his mother never stepped out of. Never even touched anything slightly grey.
Tony nodded his head and patted his shoulder. “Good. Call her later, if you can. It’ll put her mind at ease.” He said, before moving back into the living room.
Nate swallowed and tried not to be put off, before yelling a goodbye and heading out the front door and getting into his truck. He sighed and started the truck, driving off down the long lane of their farm to get into town.
The house was full of people, loud and crowded. He immediately felt better in the atmosphere, all thoughts of his mother’s visions were wiped from his mind. He looked through the crowd to try and locate Dylan and Jade, spotting them in the kitchen. Perfect. He grabbed a beer on his way through and wrapped his arms around Jade from behind, squeezing and lifting her up.
“Holy shit- Nathan!” Jade laughed, holding her hang over her chest as Nate set her back down onto her feet. “You scared the shit out of me, don’t do that!”
“You’re late, Nate.” Dylan sighed, shaking his head in dramatic disappointment.
Nate shrugged and sipped his beer. “Tom took my car keys. Again. But, hey. I’m fashionably late.” He grinned.
Jade rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure. Cause you’re so fucking cool with that beat up truck.”
“Hey! Don’t diss Grizelda. She gets me where I need to be.” Nate snorted, shaking his head.
“Oh, yeah, and breaks down every other day.” Dylan laughed, leaning back against the counter.
Nate huffed. “Don’t call me next time you’re absolutely fucked and want a ride home, man.” He scoffed.
Jade laughed and bit her lip. “Uh, sorry to ruin this mood, Nate, but I should probably warn you… That guy Ethan and his troupe of assholes are here.”
Nate’s face fell. “Shit. Come on. You could’ve fucking text me that, I wouldn’t have showed up.”
Dylan frowned. “You shouldn’t have to avoid them, man. Just cause they’re transphobic assholes doesn’t mean you have to hide out. You deserve to have a good time, dude.”
“Yeah, well. Don’t you remember last time? You got your face fucked up just for standing up for me, man, you didn’t have to do that.” Nate sighed, glancing around at the crowd to see if he could spot the college jocks.
“Oh, I absolutely did.” Dylan grinned proudly. “I got a few good licks in. Was worth the broken nose. Plus, they were talking shit about Jade too.” He huffed, moving his arm around the girl and kissing her cheek.
“Nate’s right, Dill. I’d rather have my boyfriend alive and safe than smashed up in a hospital for weeks.” Jade sighed.
Nate sighed too, rubbing his face. His mother’s premonition came back to the forefront of his thoughts. Maybe this was what she was dreaming about? In half, he hoped it was. He could handle these guys. Just throw out a few curses and make their lives inconvenient for a little while. Even if that’s what his mother always advised against. Payback was fun, sometimes. “Maybe we should just bail.”
“No!” Dylan insisted straight away. “No way, man. There’s great weed here. And there’s so many people I doubt they’d even notice. If they start something, I… I won’t retaliate this time. We’ll just go, alright? Jade’s not drinking, just in case. She can take us back to my dorm in stupid Grizelda and we can take this weed and have a great time on our own.”
Nate raised an eyebrow at his friend, before sighing and nodding his head. “Alright, fine. Fine. We’ll stick it out.”
“That’s my boy!” Dylan laughed, breaking away from his girlfriend to give Nate a hug. The guy already smelt of weed and booze. His dad was right, he really was a lightweight.
For a long while, the party went on uninterrupted. Nate was about five beers down before, inevitably, Ethan and the jock assholes he’d known since high school finally caught wind of their presence at the party.
“Oh, shit…” Jade said quietly, noticing them first. She moved closer to Dylan, whispering a warning.
“Look who the fuck it is.” Ethan’s voice bellowed with a laugh. He was a big guy, a football player. Six foot four with the muscle mass of a goddamn bulldog and the face of a Frenchie.
Nate rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Ethan Stocks. What a fucking pleasure. Life treating you well?” He hummed, his voice full of deep sarcasm.
“Shut the fuck up, faggot. I swear, wasn’t it enough of a warning last time?” The guy huffed, “Near up put your friend in a coma. Been a year and you still look like a fucking girl.”
“Now that’s just… Wildly inaccurate, Ethan.” Jade sighed.
“Yeah, you’re just jealous that Nate’s more man than you. At least he’s attractive and gets girls and guys, when you’re like… a fucking three at best.” Dylan scoffed.
“Oh fuck off, you a faggot too?” Ethan scoffed, “You been looking at me?”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “I got a girlfriend, asshole. And even if I was gay, I could do way better than you.” He laughed.
Ethan huffed and clenched his fists. “I don’t have to take this shit from a bunch of faggots.”
“Yeah, and we don’t have to take it from you, jerk.” Jade sighed. “Come on guys.”
Nate huffed and got up to his feet. “No. I’m sick of you giving me shit. We shouldn’t have to bail out just because some asshole’s probably deep in the closet and thinks he can take it out on me.”
“You think I’m a fucking fag?” Ethan growled, “I’ll show you-“ He yelled, throwing his fist in Nate’s direction.
Nate hissed and ducked, making the mistake of trying to tackle the guy, barely moving him an inch.
“Nate!” Jade yelled, unable to stop her boyfriend from getting involved. “Shit, Dylan! Don’t!”
It was too late by then. The other jocks got involved, and Nate held his own way better than Dylan did. He could only thank his father and hunting for that. But Dylan wasn’t in the life. His friend was skinny, average height and the only benefit he had was that he was fuelled by alcohol, and he did this a lot. Still, like usual, Nate got the better end of the deal and had nothing but a bruised face by the end of it, while Dylan was nursing a bleeding nose and sore ribs. The three of them trudged back to the cars after getting themselves kicked out, but Dylan was still laughing.
“I say we did way better that time,” He grinned, holding onto Jade as she helped him down the road.
The girl sighed and shook her head. “Why do you guys always do this shit? Nate, you said we’d bail if they tried to start something, and you ended up starting it by saying he was a closet case!”
“Sorry,” Nate laughed. “Guess I was just in the mood for something interesting. That party was kind of dead as fuck. And the music was shit.”
Jade just sighed and shook her head, getting her car keys and helping Dylan into the car. “I’m gonna take him home, are you coming?”
Nate was checking his phone by then, and he hadn’t even heard her. He had missed calls from every member of his family, texts and emergency codes from his father. He felt his heart sink in his chest as he skimmed through the messages. This was… hours ago. Fuck. “Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck- “he breathed, starting to panic.
“Nate? Nathan!”
Nate looked up, face pale. “I gotta go.” He said quickly, fumbling for his keys and getting in. The shock and worry sent him more sober than the day he was born. He started the truck without another thought in his mind.
“Nate? What’s- are you kidding me, you can’t drive right now!” Jade yelled.
“I have to go, I can’t- something’s happened.” Nate spluttered out, taking off down the road and picking up speed. His heart pounded against his chest, and he pulled out his phone, trying to call someone, anyone. Mom, dad, brother, sister. Nobody picked up. He tried a few more times, before swearing and tossing his phone to the passenger seat, putting both hands on the wheel and pressing the gas. This shit could be anything. Monsters looking for revenge, other witches, or a random fucking burglary. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. The code his father had texted him kept running through his head. Doctor Brown.
He cut the twenty-minute drive down to ten, pulling down the long lane to his house at high speed and skidding to a stop. The front door was wide open, and he sat there, frozen in his car for a long time. No noises. Every light in the house was on, shining through the windows. With shaky hands, he reached for his phone again, calling the house phone. He lifted his head as he heard it ringing through the open door.
Ring, ring, ring.
Nothing.
With an uneasy breath, he put his phone back in his pocket and rummaged through the glovebox for his handgun. Holding it in shaking hands, he opened the truck door and took weak steps towards the house. A hundred hunts, he’d jumped in headfirst. He never had this type of trouble moving, but right now it seemed nearly impossible to put one foot in front of the other. As he got closer, he saw the blood smeared across the front door, and he felt like his life was ending at that moment, like his entire body was falling from the peak of the tallest building in the world. He rounded the door and entered the hallway, empty. It was his home, but the sight of it was chilling. Blood covered the walls, the stairway. Furniture was smashed and knocked down, scattered about. God, there’d been a fight… And then he turned through the arch to the living room, and the sight before him knocked the breath from his chest.
Bodies- Body parts. His entire family, butchered, decapitated. A severed arm lay in front of him, and he recognised the watch to be his father’s. Nate knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but stare, taking in the entire sight of it all, and his eyes were drawn to the back wall above the TV, where an episode of The Wire was playing to itself. Written in blood, the words ‘Burn the Witches’ was smeared across the plaster. Beneath, a signature was tagged as ‘W. Ward’.
The breath returned to Nate’s chest as a deep wheeze, and the panic set in, the grief, the anger – everything at once. He tore his eyes away from the severed head of his mother, whose eyes seemed to be baring down into his soul even in death. “Fuck!” He cried out, starting to pace in the doorway. His hands shook and he threw the gun across the room, where it clattered on the ground. He held his head in his hands and sunk to his knees, bursting out into choked sobs. “No, no, no…” He wheezed. “This can’t be real, I can’t… I- I…” He stammered, putting his hands onto the floor, touching, feeling, trying to ground himself. To come to reality. “Can’t be real… Can’t be real…”
There were bullet holes in the floor, evidence of his father’s fight to protect his family. Nate thumbed over the holes in the hardwood, pulling out a round and gripping it in his hand. “Real…” He whispered, raising his head with reluctance and laying his eyes again over the scene. Blood. So much blood. There wasn’t an inch of wood that wasn’t stained with it. Shaky, he rose to his feet and tried desperately to compose himself. This shouldn’t have happened, none of this. Fuck, he should’ve been here, he could’ve done something. He should’ve taken Tom and Emily with him. Should’ve gotten them out, should’ve protected them. He wheezed deeply again and reached forwards for the edge of the couch, gripping onto it and closing his eyes tightly. “Oh, God…”
The ringing in his ears got unbearable, and the pounding in his chest fuelled an emotion he’d never felt before. Something angry, primal. He stood straight and went upstairs to his bedroom, finding a duffel bag and stuffing it full of everything that mattered. He boxed up everything he owned, taking a hundred trips down this truck. Spell books, weapons, his father’s guns, knives. He took everything from his mother’s jewellery to his sister’s diaries. He emptied his closets, emptied his drawers and packed up every single possession. Heirlooms and the secret cash box went straight into the truck, and he didn’t look at the living room once until he was finished.
Panting and exhausted, pushing down every emotion he was feeling, he sat down on the porch steps outside and fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. No need to… smoke secretly anymore. “Can’t yell at me if you’re dead, old man.” He said with a hysterical laugh, lighting up and taking a deep breath. He kept laughing, unable to feel anything that was reasonable. But the laughter stopped, and the feeling of absolute grief washed over him again. He wasn’t thinking straight, but even in his irrational mind, there was no other thought in his mind but running.
In an air of total detachment, he stood and walked to the barn, grabbing a canister of gasoline for the tractor and bringing it back to the house. He set it down there in the living room doorway and took one last pass over the room. In the back of his mind, he hoped, maybe, just maybe, it was a trip of bad weed, and his family was alive in there, watching The Wire and his father was about to yell at him for making so much noise upstairs. But… No. The bodies lay there still. The smell of the iron in the blood passed through his nose once more, the pools on the floor still shimmering. It was so thick; it wouldn’t dry for hours. Nate swallowed in his throat and reached onto the shelf behind the couch for the polaroid camera that his mother used for special occasions. He stood there in the doorway and took a photo, silent as it printed. He put the picture into his wallet and sniffed, rubbing his eyes and grabbing hold of the canister once more. He stepped through the blood, pouring it all over the house, over the bodies, not missing a room. Trailing the substance out onto the porch and setting the canister down, he turned back towards the house and relit his cigarette, taking one last drag before dropping it down onto the fluid.
The house was alight in seconds, and Nate stepped back to watch. He wiped his eyes and let out a shaky breath, staring into the flames. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, stepping away and back to the truck. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he had a few texts from his friends. He didn’t even have to consider his next actions. He pulled the sim from the phone and broke it in two, tossing it and his phone to the ground, before getting into the truck.
The road ahead was long, vengeance was nasty, and his friends weren’t equipped for that life. This life. Hunter friends had always warned his father that this life has a away of catching up with you. But now he had nothing to lose, and only one thing in mind, finding the piece of shit that did this and putting a bullet between his eyes.