AN: I have searched and not found anyone who's done something like this, but if I wasn't searching for the right thing and someone's already done it, please let me know. I really don't want to step on anyone's toes.
I'm following the book here, but there is going to be smut, and there's going to be blood and gore. I mean, I'm really trying to stay out of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies territory where the author just interjected the word "zombie" over the original text for most of the book. I am actually trying to use the bones of the book to build my own monster. Feedback on both of these concerns is welcome. Please let me know.
This chapter follows chapters 1-3 of Jane Austen's novel. In my story, both John and Mary are alive, and Adam is also their child. I would put Dean's age around 26, Sam at around 22, and Adam at about 16.
It is a truth universally acknowledged than an unbound angel must be in want of a hunter.
Regardless of the opinions or feelings of either party in the matter, it is certain that this truth must be applied to such a creature by every family for their own child as soon as any one enters a neighborhood.
"Dear God in Heaven, John, a big bunch of uppity angels just took out Netherfield Park," Mr. John Winchester's lady said to him one day.
Mr. Winchester stated that he had heard no such thing and questioned the voracity of such a statement.
"Oh, it's done all right. Just heard from Rufus."
Mr. Winchester put his paper down. "Rufus was here and you didn't tell me? Geez, woman, I ask for so little!"
"I'm bringing you information, you old coot," Mrs. Winchester muttered affectionately. "Sorry, but he had to skedaddle. But don't you want to know anything about the angels that are taking it?"
"Good grief, they're angels. Who cares?" Mr. Winchester answered back. "But if you know anything, I guess you'd better tell me so we'll know what we're up against."
"From what I understand, it's Gabriel the Archangel himself," Replied Mrs. Winchester. "Can you imagine? The boys?"
"The boys? Oh no, no no no, no boys of mine are going to get bound to some uppity archangel!"
"Yeah, but what if one of them takes a liking to them? I mean, Sam's so tall and Dean's got shoulders for days…"
"You don't think that's what they're here for, do you?"
"I don't know," Mrs. Winchester said thoughtfully, staring out her elegant draperies. "I mean, that's something they do, right? Bind to humans. Give them abnormally long lives. Save people. Hunt things. You should probably go and pay them tribute."
"Tribute!" Mr. Winchester scoffed, once more turning to his paper. "No way in hell, baby. But, uh…maybe you could go," he offered, his voice taking on a mischievous edge. "Take the boys with you. You know. Pay them some tribute."
"Oh? And what am I supposed to say? That the head of our house was too lazy to get off his fat ass and come and say hi?" Mrs. Winchester then turned simpering and lowered Mr. Winchester's paper a fraction with her finger. "Besides, what would you do if Gabriel took a shine to me, huh? Bonded to my lifeline and took me hunting all over the country?"
In a vulgar display sure to embarrass the county and their children, Mr. Winchester took Mrs. Winchester into his lap and placed his hand on a very delicate area of her personage. "He can pry your pretty little ass out of my cold, dead hands, baby."
Mrs. Winchester was clearly scandalized by such a display for she chastised him mightily and pried herself from his arms. "You need to pay the angels tribute, John, and you know it. We all hate them freakin' angels, but you gotta play the game."
"Politics," Mr. Winchester growled. "Tell ya what, when you go and take the boys with you, I'll send a letter with plenty of tributing words in it, and then it'll all get taken care of."
"Don't be an ass," Mrs. Winchester snapped.
"I'm not, I swear on my dad's empty room, that son of a bitch, that I'm not playing around."
Mrs. Winchester rolled her eyes. "Do whatever you like, smartass. I'm gonna go sharpen my knives."
"Sure, your knives," said Mr. Winchester. "They've been my old friends these twenty years at least. I hope you do a good job so Gabriel will be impressed."
"Don't see much how he'll notice if you don't pay him tribute you bastard."
Mr. Winchester was a legacy to the Men of Letters, with deep intelligence and agile ability in the field. His wife was from the longstanding Campbell clan of hunters. Their marriage should have been that of singularity and little understanding, but the two seemed to have a way of living together. When they argued, they were happy. When they were discontent, they killed monsters. The business of their lives was to train their children and make them ready to benefit the world. Their solace was the belief that it was all worth while.
Mr. Winchester was one of the first to pay tribute to Gabriel the Archangel. Not that his wife doubted him much. Still, he felt the need to tease her more. Upon observing his eldest son cleaning a shotgun that the boy had modified himself, he remarked, "Nice looking piece there, Dean. I hope Gabriel the Archangel is mighty impressed by it."
"Do we care what Gabriel thinks?" Mrs. Winchester asked.
"Hell no," replied Dean. "Unfortunately, Rufus threatened to introduce us all at the stupid assembly next week."
"He'll do no such thing! Of course, Rufus is no idiot, either. He'll probably be trying to pair his nephews up with Gabriel," Mrs. Winchester remarked, half to herself.
"I doubt he'll introduce you, unless he's trying to be an ass," Mr. Winchester decided. "But I don't really see him trying to set up Gordon and Gabriel, either. He's not stupid, just like you said."
Mrs. Winchester did not feel that her husband's speech required a response, so she turned and began scolding one of her sons. "Adam, you okay, baby? Got a little cough?"
"I'm fine, Mom," Adam insisted.
"And if he's not, we can always take him to the angels for a miracle healing," Samuel offered helpfully.
"And meet them before the grand ball?" Mr. Winchester asked. "Oh, what dreadful manners!"
"Yeah, wouldn't want to give them uppity angels the wrong impression of us," Dean said with a gallant smile, pumping his self-modified shotgun with one hand. "They might just think we're all a bunch of backwoods rednecks."
"When is the assembly?" Mr. Winchester wondered.
"Next week," Dean answered obediently. "Do we really hafta go, Dad?"
"'Fraid so, son. And you will have to meet the archangel because I went and paid my tribute to him this morning."
"I figured you'd cave," his wife sighed, lifting her hand elegantly to her elegant coif. "Well, I guess we're in for it now, fellas."
"Angels," Adam said, shaking his head with wonderment. "Good god. Ever know a hunter who paired up with one, Dad?"
Mr. Winchester nodded. "Yeah. Several, in fact. Can't say it's something I've ever wanted. I mean, I got your mom, you know. But they all seem happy with the arrangement. Still. Angels."
"Too right," Dean agreed. "Don't wanna go down that road, Adam."
"I think we should get to know the angels first," Samuel said. "Maybe they're not as bad as all that."
"Please, Sammy," Mrs. Winchester admonished gently.
"Get to know them all you like, Sammy," Mr. Winchester offered. "Just remember they're supernatural. And that makes them monsters."
"I'm not scared," Samuel said defiantly.
Mr. Winchester did not think much of this statement.
"Shit, do you think we'll have to ask them to dinner?" Mrs. Winchester wondered aloud.
The rest of the evening was spent in speculation about whether or not angels required sustenance.
As to the exact nature of Gabriel the Archangel, Mrs. Winchester and her sons could not draw a description from Mr. Winchester, and no amount of pestering on their part could induce him to be explicit. They tried different tactics of supposition, direct questioning, rumor mongering, and eventually they all four attacked him at once to find out exactly what they were up against, but all in vain. It was their neighbor, Lady Harvelle, who eventually supplied them with all they needed to know.
"Jumped up little prick if you ask me," Lady Harvelle muttered over her spiked coffee.
"John won't say anything, the rat bastard," Mrs. Winchester opined.
"Just goes to show what a dick the guy must be," said Dean from his place at the workbench where he was studiously cleaning his favorite Glock with the honorable Miss Jo Harvelle, a good friend and daughter of Sir and Lady Harvelle.
"Daddy said that he's small enough for me to pick up and swing around," Miss Harvelle confided, polishing her sidearm to a high-gloss shine.
Mrs. Winchester and Lady Harvelle discussed the possibility of inviting such a personage to Longbourn for dinner, and both agreed that it would be only polite-"An ounce of pretention is worth a pound of manure, Mom," Dean politely reminded his mother—and an invitation was issued from both families for different nights.
The plans turned out to have been in vain, however, as both invitations were regrettably declined as Gabriel was headed into Sioux City to retrieve a group of friends. Word was that Gabriel would bring a garrison of twelve angels and seven humans, and the hunters of both Longbourn and Harvelle Lodge lamented the amount of angels, but when the night of the assembly arrived, it was only five figures all together: four angels and one human.
Gabriel was a pleasant and open character who charmed all within his grasp, and his two "Brothers" were considered to be quite kind and gentleman-like. The "sister" angel and her companion were thought to be a striking pair, both with bright red hair and dark eyes, more like sisters in appearance than companions. It was the angel Castiel who caught the attention and fancy of many in the neighborhood, however. He was tall and had dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to be made of cobalt. Admiration soon turned to disgust, however, when Castiel proved to be cold and emotionless, more interested in protecting Gabriel than mingling with the hunters.
Mrs. Winchester was particular in her vehemence against him, as one of his snubs was directly related to her eldest and favorite son, Dean.
Dean had been regaling a few of the hunters with a very humorous tale of an echidna hunt he had led both of his brothers on in Washington the previous year while Sam was entertaining Gabriel by grappling with him in the sparring ring. As Dean wound up his narrative, Sam tapped out and Gabriel approached Castiel.
"What's up, bro? Wanna try getting in the ring with a hunter or five? You know what Balthazar says, the more the merrier."
"I would rather not, Gabriel," said he. "Humans hold no challenge for my superior strength, and I can easily outlast any of them. Besides, I'm not as interested in showing off as you are."
"You just suck the fun out of everything, dontcha, baby bro? Come on, some of these guys are really buff, and you gotta hike up your skirt every now and then and just have fun."
"You are grappling with the only hunter who looks as though he would present a challenge and he hardly lasted four rounds with you," Castiel remarked, looking over at where Samuel was toweling off a quite magnificently defined chest.
"He's pretty difficult to wrestle, Cassie. I mean, all I want to do is stare at him…hey! He has a brother. Right over there. I bet you could try grappling with him. He's pretty darn hot."
Castiel turned and stared at Dean, who was taking no inconsiderable amount of interest in the passing conversation, but was attempting quite valiantly to appear disinterested. "If you mean the oaf attempting to eavesdrop casually on our conversation, then you have misread me entirely. He is strong, I suppose, for a human, but not enough to tempt me into making a fool of both of us before the entire room. I really don't feel like giving barely-evolved multi-cellular organisms entertainment at my expense, and I certainly am not interested in singling out their local hero to add consequence to the indignity. Go back to making a spectacle of yourself with your partner. I'm sure he won't thank you for it in the morning."
Gabriel had taken Castiel's advice to heart, and Dean was left with a not very charitable feeling towards the angel, though he regaled several audiences with a reenactment of the speech over the next week.
The evening on the whole ended up being a success for the entire Winchester family as Mrs. Winchester was able to see her middle son admired and singled out by a celestial being. Samuel did not voice out loud his feelings about being singled out, Dean often brought up the subject in order to gratify him. Adam had heard himself called a protégé and had overheard some speculation about whether or not he might surpass Samuel in height or Dean in skill, and Dean had the great happiness of having been once again a favorite amongst his peers.
Mr. Winchester had not been at the party, but was waiting up rather anxiously to hear what his dear family might say with regards to the evening. He wondered if his wife's expectations might have been met with regards to the angels, or whether she might come away as disappointed as he rather hoped she might be after seeing how little prospect the angels might have towards their boys.
"I can't believe it," said she as she entered the room, "I just can't fucking believe that little shit archangel…John, he made Sammy grapple with him. Grapple! Twice! I wish you had been there, I'm sure you could have put a stop to the whole mess."
Mr. Winchester set his book aside and gave his espoused his full attention. "Grappling? With Sammy? I hope you did us proud, son! I bet that son of a bitch was stronger than eighty horses."
"Eighty horses and their jockeys," Samuel agreed.
"Couldn't believe the amount of sweat pouring off of this one," Dean commented, helping himself to a finger of his dad's best scotch. "Must have been pretty embarrassing."
"Yeah, speaking of embarrassing, wait until you hear what that jumped up little fairy angel Castiel said about our Dean."
Mr. Winchester begged his wife to continue her story, which she did with interjections from her sons as they made sure Mr. Winchester felt the full weight of the sleight they had been subjected to.
"I'm sure we were all so much better off before these stupid little feather dusters rolled into town," Mrs. Winchester finished, draping herself over her husband's knees. "When do you think they'll leave?"
"We can only hope soon," Mr. Winchester said, patting her shoulder.
"If you two are going to start sucking face, we're going to bed," Dean decided, bidding his dear parents a fond goodnight.
"Yeah, catch you later, meatheads," Adam tenderly replied.
"Night Mom. Dad," Samuel called as he followed his brothers up the stairs.
"Fucking angels," Mr. Winchester growled. "Fucking angels."
Merryton Assembly is pretty much my favorite scene, so I hope I did it justice.