A/N: Originally posted on Ao3. Warning for some references to violence and murder.

The media loved them. One overenthusiastic newspaper even gave them a name.

The Grimm Brothers.

No one even knew if they were brothers, but the name stuck.

They were labeled as the worst serial killers in American history, terrorizing the west coast and evading the police while somehow producing a new victim every week.

The cause of death was always the same—a blow to the back of the head combined with a slashed throat—but the victims varied with no logic. From teenage girls to old men, no one was safe from the Grimm Brothers.

Witness reports were vague at best—2 men, average height, both with dark hair. No one was sure if they were brothers, or friends, or lovers, or something else entirely, but that didn't matter to the police.

They were killing innocents, and they would be stopped.

Finally, almost 5 months after their reign of terror began, it was brought to a screeching halt.

One of the Brothers was captured.

Their luck, it seemed, had finally run out. A young woman had just walked outside to work in her garden when she saw two men force their way into her neighbor's house. She called the police, and they arrived within minutes.

The man who lived in the house was found dead, killed in the same way as the other victims, and one of the killers was grabbed while he tried to escape through the window.

He was holding a metal baseball bat with the victim's blood on it.

The other Brother was nowhere to be found.

The police were confident now—they would be able to identify this man, and use him to identify the other killer.

Simple.

Except that, according to all the tests, the man they caught didn't exist. His fingerprints didn't match anything in their database, and neither did his DNA. He had no identification on him.

He was probably an orphan, the police explained. He had probably run away from orphanages and foster homes all his life, changing his name and identity each time.
After almost a week of questioning, he had only given them two pieces of information—his first name and his age.

When the media got a hold of the information, the public went crazy and Stiles the 17-year-old serial killer became a national celebrity.

There was only one question left: where was the other Brother?

Stiles wasn't giving them any information. He just grinned, throwing out a sarcastic comment every once in a while.

Finally, after a month of questioning and torture, the police pulled another name out of him.

It was just a whisper, after a day of beatings, and Stiles passed out right after saying it.

"Scott will come."

The Grimm Brothers now had names to go with their title.

Scott and Stiles.

A week after giving up Scott's name, Stiles vanished from the back of a police van that was transporting him to a high security prison.

OoOoO

"You idiot! Never do that again."

"Yeah alright, Scott, I'll just teleport away next time then."

"Oh shut up."

"... Seriously though, I'm sorry."

"I know, Stiles. I was just worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. They hit me around a little, but I'm okay. Have you heard what they're calling us?"

"Yeah. They think we're brothers, I guess."

"Well they're not completely wrong, eh, Scott?"

"No. I guess they're not."

"... We should lay low for a while. I don't really want to get caught again."

"Maybe we should leave the country. Start over."

"Well, I have always wanted to see Europe."

OoOoO

Two weeks later, no one gave a second glance to the two young men stepping onto a plane bound for London.

The Grimm Brothers were never heard from again.