gensplosion!

Obstinatrix

Those who're fond of records, they'll look 'em up and tell you there's a Winchester here; here, see? Here, two boys of the nineteen-eighties who drove their father's car through a half-century modern. That's what they'll tell you, but there aren't any records of what those Winchesters did after the school district lost track: other'n that they killed some and got killed, and then killed again, and who-all can die twice?

Well, now. Guys that do, they got a name for them. Guys who drink and shoot and go down swinging, get a bullet in the head and do it all again, that's what legends are. The Winchester boys are guys like that. They die in the dirt thrice over, and then they get back up and walk, knives stuck in their spines, gunshot and whisky in their stomachs. The Winchesters keep on dying, but they say they can't be killed, so who's to say they were ever born, either, like normal folk? Who's to say.

kalquessa

He's never seen her before in his life, and he's supposed to meet his dad several blocks from here in a couple minutes, but she beckons him over with a happy wave of her hand, still smiling, and he crosses back over to the sidewalk, half out of curiosity and half out of a sort of obligatory suspicion that she's something weird that needs looking into.