While rummaging through their late father's papers, Dean and Sam Winchester are surprised to learn that a little brother has been kept from them.
The latter, who is totally unaware that he descends from a line of hunters, lives in the small town of...
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'Run Stiles! Run!'
Scott's screams echoed in the teenagers head, although he knew full well that they were only the figment of his imagination. He was alone. And he was very likely to die.
Strangely, he wasn't afraid. He could feel his heart pounding, yes, but it was more the effect of adrenaline than of an anguish which, he knew, could prove fatal in such a situation. He had to keep his cool. That's what his father would have done.
The boy, out of breath, leaned against a tree and listened. He was still being pursued, and hearing the sucking noise produced by his persecutors boots as he advanced among the heaps of waterlogged leaves lining the forest floor, he was approaching at such a speed that he would have caught up with him early. He had to hide.
Perhaps Stiles would have felt a greater fear if he had known the identity of his pursuer. Was he dealing with an angry werewolf or was he more of a bait for a hunter eager to exterminate all his friends? What if he was once again caught in the grip of a Nogitsune-like spirit? The young man felt a shudder and his legs almost let go. It couldn't happen again.
For a moment he thought about yelling for Scott for help. His best friend would have heard it early and immediately rushed to his aid. The only problem was that there was no way the werewolf there would be found before the one chasing him, who was now only a few yards from him.
And it was too late to find a decent hiding place. Stiles therefore stuck as best he could to the trunk of the tree that had supported him until then, hoping that this would be enough to make him disappear in the eyes of his attacker. For a moment, he almost came to believe it had worked, as he suddenly couldn't hear the slightest sound of footsteps. He had even come to think of getting out of his hiding place when he fell on him.
The teenager never knew which side he and attacked his opponent. He only felt himself rolling on the damp carpet formed by the decaying dead leaves. A mass much heavier than himself held him to the ground, preventing his body alone from making even a movement to free itself. He wanted to cry out, but it was hardly lost: his assailant was already gagging him with one of his enormous hands.
"Don't worry Winchester, you will not suffer too much."
Stiles, who was unable to understand any of his opponents words in such a situation, could only ignore his persecutors strange remark. He would have liked to see even a striking element on the face of the man who kept him at bay, but in the constant semi-darkness of the forest, he could only subtract from the unknown man was a pair of eyes shining with an ominous glow and an evil smile.
It was at this moment that the boy got scared. He struggled with all his might, biting down to the blood of that dreadful paw which prevented him from expressing himself, but nothing helped; his attacker continued to smile, watching him scramble to regain his freedom as if he had been a cute little kitten attacking the laces of his shoe.
And then, the fatal blow. An icy lightning hit the temple of Stiles who, as the pain grew excruciating sank into unconsciousness.
*****
"I don't think that's a good idea, Dean. This women said it well in her letter. We would only bring problems to this kid. And that's if he's still alive!"
Deaf to his brothers ranting, Dean drove, staring at the road, in the direction of California. A long road awaited the hunters he turned up the volume of the radio to the maximum to close the valve of his brother.
"It was not you who told me, when we met Adam, that we could not let him in our life when we were always mad at dad for having condemned us to all this shit for life? Let him enjoy his, Dean."
"Did you see how Adam ended up, Sam?" Cried the young man, daring a glare in the direction of his younger brother. "I happen to be wrong, you will know. If dad had taught us of his existence before he was killed by ghouls, if he had been able to defend himself, he would kill our conscience one less death."
Sam couldn't find fault, however his brother continued more calmly.
"I'm not talking to you about getting to know him and becoming the best brothers in the universe, just making sure he's still alive, happy, and safe. Does that suit you Sam?"
Sam nodded uncertainly, more deftly trying to deflect the subject.
"How many other brothers like that do you think dad hid from us?"
*****
It took a little over a day for the two to reach California. They easily found the small and charming town of Beacon Hills, after settling into the most seedy motel they could find, they began their search.
Nor was it difficult to find Stillinski's name in the newspaper, where the Winchesters could discover, despite themselves, that one of them was the town sheriff. They wandered If he was related to Stiles? It was impossible to know.
Sam managed, in a way only he had the secretary, to get into the school records of the only high school in the area, where it was a cinch, from that point on, to check if Stiles Stillinski was not just a pipe dream.
"He has superb grades in school," The younger read out loud to Dean as the young man came to lean against the back of his brothers chair. "On the other hand, he has an incalculable number of deductions to his credit."
"There's nothing to say, he's our brother!"
"He also talks about a certain Scott McCall," Sam continued, a smile on his lips. "They really seem to have done the four hundred moves together, those two. Oh! And the sheriff is indeed his father."
Great. That was going to make it easier for them, they who constantly had the unfortunate tendency to attract the animosity of any police officer likely to send them to prison.
"And his mother?" Asked Dean
Wouldn't it be better to be quite sure of the identity of your prey before setting of in pursuit? Wouldn't they look totally stupid, even if everything proved that Stiles Stillinski was a Winchester at heart, if they were mistaken about the person.
"... Claudia Stillinski. Deceased. Which explains why she stopped sending pictures."
Sam, after shutting down his computer, turned to his brother.
"What do we do now?"
Dean took a few moments to put his ideas In order, then smiled playfully at his younger brother, accompanied by a mischievous wink.
