"Ya know, I missed this."
Smiling casually, Dean dipped the serrated dagger back into the jar of crimson ooze. As he swirled it around, his brother turned to him with a look of confusion.
"Missed what, Dean?" Sam inquired.
"This!" Dean replied, gesturing towards their surroundings as if the answer was blatantly obvious.
"Hunting!" he elaborated when Sam continued to look perplexed. "It's been weeks since Cas has popped in with another doom-and-gloom story about the Apocalypse or all Hell breaking loose. . . again."
"And you don't find that the least bit alarming?" his brother demanded while extracting a towel from the trunk of the Impala. He nonchalantly ran the cloth over his machete, mopping up the red mess coating its exterior.
"I find it more alarming that they chose us to lead their crusade," Dean replied grimly as he gently closed the trunk. "I mean, why us?"
He held up his index finger. "First, Mom makes a deal with a demon."
He raised his middle finger. "Dad makes a deal with the same demon."
His ring finger came up next. "Then, I make a deal with a demon."
Lowering the last two fingers, he point to Sam. "And you occasionally have sex with a demon."
"Thanks, Dean," Sam sarcastically retorted.
"I just imagine that if any of us said 'God', the angels would be offended," his elder brother pondered aloud. "So why choose any of us?"
"Well, Dean," Sam shrugged, "maybe we're not supposed to know how the Lord works."
"And it's that unpredictability that scares the crap out of me," Dean explained as the pair strolled over towards their captives.
"But this? This is familiar. This is within my comfort zone."
At these words, Sam's eyes scanned the hushed house. Bodies were scattered around the ground floor, their corresponding heads lying a few feet away. Glistening trails of blood ran rampant along the wood-paneled floors in randomized patterns, like a treasure map drawn in a drunken haze.
"Uh. . . huh. . . ." was all Sam managed to get out before they reached the youthful-looking couple seated in the kitchen, bound by chains and disoriented from tainted blood coursing through their veins.
"Check it out, Sammy," Dean motioned to the auburn-haired male. "This one sparkles!"
And Edward Cullen did indeed sparkle as sunlight sneaking through the blinds struck his pale skin. The vampire groggily lifted his head, taking in his surroundings before speaking to the average gal, his wife, seated to his right.
"Bella," he murmured gently, stirring her awake. "Bella, are you ok?"
Shaking off the toxic effects of the dead man's blood, Bella wearily smiled at her husband.
"Oh, Edward, my dashing Adonis-like prince," she cooed, "I'm physically fine, but with you so far away, my heart is breaking."
Sam's brow furrowed. Their chairs were only six inches apart.
"Damn," Dean sighed, "I was hoping she wouldn't be awake for this."
Turning to his brother, he simply muttered "Sam" and jerked his head towards the Dr. Cullen's last remaining son. Sam nodded and strolled over to the sparkling vampire, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation.
"Edward!" Bella called out hysterically to her adjacent love. "Free us from these chains with your rippling biceps and inhuman strength I've come to know and enjoy! Of confuse them with your dazzling smile and intoxicating fragrance!"
"We're straight, lady!" replied an annoyed Dean.
"And, unfortunately, so's this blade." Dean informed Mrs. Cullen before he swung the machete. A sickening tearing sound was followed by a hollow thud as Edward's severed head hit the ground and rolled off into the living room like a wandering bowling ball. . . that sparkled.
After witnessing her husband's beheading, Bella broke out into frantic wails of pain before receding into somber sobbing. Sam strode over and knelt before her, his face full of regret from the despair he brought about.
"Sorry," he whispered, his apology sincere.
"Why. . . ." Bella questioned through her weeping. "Why did you. . . . He was perfect, as peaceful as he was gorgeous. So why. . . ?"
Sam mulled over the question, before slowly replying, "Well. . . Cause even if he reformed, we've heard of some near-relapses recently. Some violent outbursts. And we couldn't let the folks of the nearby city become endangered if he were to ever spontaneously go feral again."
"He was perfect," she reiterated, tears rolling down her plain complexion. "He was my radiant love, with his captivating eyes and scent. He was my first and I was his."
"Seriously?" Dean piped in, his voice incredulous. "A century of celibacy and he loses it to you?"
When his inquiry was met with only sniffles and sobs, he muttered to himself, "Poor bastard."
Suddenly, the crying ceased and the widowed Mrs. Swan resumed her loud lament.
"Oh, Edward," she called out to the Heavens, the opposite direction of where her husband was traveling, "my hunky, sexy, chiseled love! My guardian, my husband, my baby's daddy! I miss your perfect body, perfect voice, and perfect laugh more and more with every passing second! Oh, thank God our perfect child is off with Jacob at the reservation and safely away from here!"
"LADY, SHUT UP!" Dean demanded, his patience completely drained. "YOU'RE MORE ANNOYING THAN THE OTHER BELLA!"
And with a mighty swing from his own weed-whacking sword, Bella's rant ended with a more pleasing hack-and-THUD.
"That last one felt pretty good!" Dean proclaimed with a smile as he loaded there cleaned gear into the Impala.
"Yeah," Sam agreed casually, "especially since my head's no longer filled with crappy adjectives."
The afterglow was interrupted as Sam's jacket began vibrating and emitting a joyful jingle. Fishing his cell phone out from the depths of his pocket, he checked the caller ID before flipping the device open and greeting, "Hey, Bobby."
"Did everything go okay over there in Washington?" Their secondary father figure asked with concern. It had been a while since any of them hunted vampires.
"Yeah, we got almost everything" the youngest living Winchester informed him.
"'Almost everything?' What do ya mean?" questioned the aged Singer.
"Well," Sam hesitantly began, "as we were clearing out the nest, one of the vampires hinted at one of their newborns being safeguarded at that werewolf reservation ya mentioned earlier."
"Oh," Bobby sighed, relief seeping into his voice. "That. Don't worry bout that too much."
"Why not?" the younger Hunter inquired.
"Well," Bobby started with a chuckle, "the reports of lycanthrope-like creatures in the area are true, but witnesses say that the beasts were burly, furry, and canine-like in appearance. Kinda like a movie werewolf."
"But werewolves are humanoid, aside from extended fangs and claws," Sam stated incredulously. After a pause, Sam asked "Could it be another shape-shifter? Like that one that imitated old 60's movies?"
"Well, I checked into the area, and it turns out there's some Australian blood running through the natives," Bobby explained. With another chuckle, he added, "The lycanthropes at La Push are apparently 'were-dingoes.'"
"Oh," blurted out Sam.
Strolling over, Dean asked, "What'd Bobby say?"
"We don't have to worry bout the baby," Sam assured him.
Tearing down the highway towards La Push, the Winchester brothers rode in silence until Dean finally wondered aloud:
"A hundred years, and the vampire lays that obnoxious bitch?"
"Well, Dean," Sam said with a shrug, "vampires mate for life. Maybe he just knew she was 'The One.'"
"No," his brother insisted, shaking his head. "No way, Sammy. No way would any man, human or vampire, wait a hundred years for that."
Continuing in his disapproving tone, he added, "That Bella chick? That wasn't true love; that was desperation."
Dean suddenly dove for his cassettes and unearthed the music of Boston. With a "Here", he popped the cassette into his dashboard and sang along:
"It's been such a long tiiiiiiiiime. . . ."
[Author's Note]: To the "Twilight" Fans I may've pissed off:
Before you stone me to death, I did the research on Meyer's series and am even in the midst of the first book.
I don't hate Edward; I hate Bella. Bella is an annoying wench who makes poor decisions and has a one-track mind. It's her repetitive description of only the physical aspect of Edward that drives young women to pursue only pretty boys and not guys with personality.
I've actually seen testimonies online of guys being dumped because their girls want to "date guys more like Edward."
Edward is fictional and suffers from Bipolar I. Not that bipolar is necessarily a bad thing, but Edward's depressive state is an emo kid that rivals Sam Raimi's Peter Parker and his manic state is homicidal.
AND WOMEN OF ALL AGES NOW WANT THAT.
So, yeah, I'mma write my favorite slayers of the supernatural killing Mr. and Mrs. Cullen.
And, yeah, that pretty much how I feel Bella talks 24/7.