Work Text:
The Winchesters traveled all over the country, had for as long as Sam could remember. Ever since an unnatural house fire killed Mary Winchester over two decades ago, the Winchester family had been nomads, traveling from city to city, state to state, tracking down all kinds of supernatural creatures.
Despite all the change in scenery, the Winchesters had a routine that rarely wavered, one that Sam kept up even after their father died and wasn’t around to nag them about it. Every time they came to a new town, right after they found a place to stay, they would register at the local post and/or telegram office. With the hunting community so widely dispersed, it was vital to keep the lines of communication open. They had to check for new letters or telegrams at least once per day; you could never be sure when something vital would come through.
All of that to say that this was why Sam found himself at the post office shortly after opening one morning, even though it was Dean’s turn to make the mail run. They were laying low after their latest hunt and there shouldn’t be anything for them but it was the routine.
You can imagine Sam’s surprise when he found they actually received something, and it was a formal letter at that. He vaguely recognized the insignia on the wax sealing the envelope but waited until he was in the safety of their shared hotel room to open it. Dean grumbled at him for waking him up but Sam paid him no mind as he headed for the desk. “We got mail, Dean,” he muttered.
“Mail?” Dean sat up in bed. “Who the hell is sending us mail out here?”
“The Men of Letters, apparently,” Sam said, already scanning the letter. “Seems they’re recruiting hunters for work on the frontier, clearing out the monsters getting in the way of America’s manifest destiny.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Those elitist assholes can do their own dirty work; tell them we’re not joining.”
“They’re offering a lot of money,” Sam said, reading further down the page.
“Oh yeah? How much? Probably $5 a head for every creature we round up.”
“$100 per head actually.”
Dean’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? They must be desperate then….”
Sam shrugged. “Maybe. They want to meet up with us first and give us our assigned area and a ‘list of desired creatures’ for their research. That’s the person who’s going to pay us when we turn in the bounty.”
“Alright…. Where are we going?”
“Austin, Texas.”
—---------
Dean groaned as they stepped off the train. “You know, if they really wanted to work with us, they’d pay for better seats,” he grumbled.
“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Sam said, grabbing their luggage. “We’ll actually probably be traveling by horse from this point on.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Sammy.”
“Well, it’ll probably make you feel better to know we’re meeting our contact at a saloon.”
Dean smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Let’s go!”
An hour later, they’d had a few drinks and finally got to meet with their contact. He introduced himself as a Man of Letters Initiate. “We’re very happy to be working with you. As much as the Men of Letters prefer to work alone, we just don’t have the manpower to keep up with the demand.”
Dean scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure you pencil pushers need a helping hand or two.”
Sam kicked him under the table. “We’re happy to help. What do you need us to do?”
“Well, as you read in the letter, we need you to clear out the creatures living in the area we give you to search in. We also want you to keep an eye out for a few special creatures, ones we’ve heard rumors of but haven’t had a chance to study. Those will be an extra $50 dollars per head if you can bring them in.” He handed Sam a list and a map. “Your area is marked out in red. We’re all on a tight schedule here so you’ll be given one month to clear the area out and report back to us here. You’ll receive payment upon delivery. Any questions?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said, looking over the map and the list. It was a daunting task for sure but the Winchesters never backed down from a challenge.
“Excellent! I’ll see you in a month.” Their contact left the bar (leaving them the tab, of course).
Dean glared at Sam. “We’re not actually doing this, are we? We’re not pawns for those assholes.”
“$100 a head, Dean,” Sam reminded him. “We need money, especially with how much you’ve been spending on the white doves lately. And it would be good to forge contacts. The Men of Letters have some significant influence in the legal and political realms and-”
Dean groaned and downed the last of his beer. “Didn’t ask for a lecture,” he muttered. “Alright. Where are we going?”
Sam slid him the map. “The middle of the prairie. We’ll stock up today and arrange horses for transport. SHouldn’t take us more than a few days’ riding.”
Dean groaned again. “Horses and camping. Great.”
“$100 a head. Very great.” Sam cuffed him upside the head and left to check out the local market for any supplies they might need while Dean settled the bill.
As much as Sam wanted to do this job, he had his own reservations. The Men of Letters weren’t known for being appreciative of hunters’ help. And the job they were being asking to do was very dangerous, more so than the regular work of hunters. Tracking down new and unusual creatures wasn’t exactly in the job description. But Sam was also very curious. As he scanned over the list, he wondered if this job would give him enough credibility to ask for their notes at some point in the future.
Assuming we get back alive.
—-------
Sam stirred the beans in their small pan. “Supper’s almost ready,” he said to Dean. “Are you almost done with that?”
“You try tying together a thing with eight limbs of inverted joints,” Dean grunted, trying his best to prep their latest kill for transport. “What even is it anyway? Are we sure it’s not just a big spider?”
“According to the Men of Letters and the native peoples in this area, it’s not. It’s something new so there’s not a name for it yet. Well, the Cheyenne probably have a name for it but the Men of Letters have their own taxonomy system and hardly ever use native or folklore versions of-”
“Didn’t ask, Sammy.”
“You did.”
“Shut up.”
Sam rolled his eyes and spooned the beans into bowls. They were reaching the end of their rations so they’d have to start heading back to Austin at first light. The water should last them long enough but Sam worried about their food supply. One day of hunger wouldn’t be too bad but Sam knew this area was prone to dust devils and them getting lost really wouldn’t help. He knew they should’ve gotten more beans instead of that whiskey, but Dean had insisted…..
He sighed and set Dean’s bowl by his bedroll. Sam ate from his bowl while looking up at the stars. For as dangerous as the frontier was, especially when you were seeking out the most dangerous creatures, it really was beautiful. The clear, starry skies at night, the empty open prairies during the day…. It was all so picturesque. If Sam had had the time and spare pages in his journal, he might have made a few sketches. For now, he was just hoping to commit everything to memory.
Sam and Dean ate in silence, letting the sound of the natural prairie fill the night.
“Do you really think we can clear this place out?” Dean asked before they went to sleep. “I mean, all the hunters working together?”
Sam sighed. “Probably not. But maybe we can clear out enough for people to be a little safer out here. I mean, that’s the goal, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”
Neither of the brothers got much sleep that night, the dark expanse of the universe above them and the wilderness around them too imposing for them to relax.
—------
After three long days of riding, the Winchesters returned to Austin and had another meeting with their Men of Letters contact. “This is good work,” he said, looking over what they’d brought in. He handed them an envelope of money. “We’ll contact you if your services are needed again. Until next time, gentlemen.” He took the bags of captured and dead creatures and loaded them onto a stage coach before getting in himself, leaving the brothers behind.
Dean immediately opened the envelope and counted the money. “This is…. Holy fuck Sam. We can take a vacation! I know a few girls I can visit….”
Sam rolled his eyes. “You do that. I’m gonna update our journals with all the new monsters we found. Can I have some of that money to grab us a room?”
Dean handed him a wad of cash. “Get us a nice place, Sam. But don’t wait up.”
“Yeah, yeah…”