The Bay Area was an economic and cultural hub of northern California, a zeitgeist of food and colors that only a few cities in the country could understand. Or so Madison had told them as they tried to enjoy the nighttime festivities.
Madison spun around in her sundress, letting the waves of smell and heat wrap around her skin. It was still reddened, like she had spent a little too much time on a tanning machine but the bright smile on her face had deemed all that external worry nonsense.
"How's the food?" Sam asked as he took a bite of his corn dog.
"It feels… different." She answered hesitantly. "I usually love food, especially during my, uh, phase, but now, it's like, it's good, but not that good."
"That's ok. It just means that your body is adjusting to being human again. You'll probably hate a lot of food you love and love foods you hate among other sensory things." Sam placated, a soft smile permanently plastered on his face.
While the two were sitting on a bench in the middle of a grassy park, four hunters of varying age and genders sat not far away. Irwin and Dean sat on a stolen long chair and munched on snacks bought across the street while the two older hunters merely gazed towards the coup and regarded their actions with wonder and fear.
Wonder, as this was the first time they had seen a bitten werewolf not fear the moonlight. Fear, for the success of the procedure had significantly upped the ante of the next generation of hunters and they were afraid that they couldn't keep up.
"I suppose… This is a good thing. People who we thought to be unsavable will no longer be mercy-killed." Ellen remarked with a deep sigh.
"It's a damn shame you haven't told us about the cure, Richard." Bobby complained aloud, "We could've saved a lot of people. You and your family, full of greed."
"Preach, sister." Irwin joked, much to Dean's delight, before the legendary hunter cleared his throat.
"Be serious, man." He admonished under the glare of his father figure.
"What? I'm just telling the truth. That shit came from the British Men of Letters, and the only vial I had back then was given to my sister." Irwin told a half-truth to the curmudgeonly and wizened hunter with the latter snorting derisively at the former's words. "I'm being serious. I have access to it now, but it'll cost me a lot. That's why I'm trying to implement the bounty system, because those corpses will help me a lot."
"No need for the hard sell, Dick. I already told you, I'm with Ellen on the matter." Bobby shook his head. "We're going to go over the details of your organization once we're back on the bar. But as long as you ain't fucking us over, then you're good on my book. But the moment I notice shit is off…"
"I wake up with a bullet in my head. I've heard it all, Bobby." Irwin nodded along as the hunter casually threatened him, yet delighted with the way the conversation was going. "Do you think they'll try it? Long-distance and shit?"
"Doubt it." Dean answered almost immediately. "This is just puppy love. He'll get over her and we'll be driving to North Carolina in a few days."
"Aw, I think somebody's jealous!" Irwin teased in a sing-song voice, eliciting chuckles from the other two as Dean glared at him like he stole the hunter's Impala.
"You need to learn to shut up." Dean growled.
"Bickering again, really?" Sam's voice alerted Dean to his presence.
"What are you doing here, Larry? I thought you'd be all lovey-dovey with your Sally." His brother snickered.
"Well, not exactly." Sam rubbed the back of his head, the beginning of a loving smile appearing on his face. "We decided not to… be together. With our job and her life, well, it just doesn't fit."
"Well, that's a surprise." Dean said. "I thought you'd wanna stop after this. After Jessica…"
"That's the thing, Dean. After Jessica, I didn't know what it was like to feel love again and I was right. This thing between Madison and me, it isn't love." Sam sighed regretfully.
"Well, we can't win 'em all." Bobby remarked. "You ready to go, then?"
Sam put up a sly smile. "Yeah, no. I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days. Maybe I'll catch up to you later."
"Nice." Dean nodded at his brother like a wise guru. "I have taught you well, young padawan."
"Oh, dude." Irwin laughed, extending his hands towards Sam for a high-five. "Come on. No? Really?"
Sam shook his head.
"Fine. That's cool." Irwin shamefully sat down again. "Well, if we're waiting for him to get his rocks off, I do have a place we can go to that has great food and houses the next senator of California."
●●●●●
Deep within the recess of Earth's greatest cavity lay the matron of pride that had served the idea of strength and virility for countless centuries. The last part being unequivocally true, for she had already existed before humans even came to know of counting or numbers or even writing.
In fact, she was there when it was invented and she was there when that invention threatened their entire way of life. Humans were but blood and bones born to serve in their own ineptitude, but like her kin, the humans had exceptional beings amongst them.
Beings that could stand toe-to-toe with the worst of them and, in the off-chance that those beings could defeat one of them, it was up to her to offer these human beings a chance at greatness.
Within her bore a life of priceless kin, one that trudged the line between mortality and divinity. It was within her that her kin survived for millennia and, if it were not for the Great War, then they would have stayed atop their mountains and forests and lakes for all eternity.
Now, she only awaits her revival. She awaits the echoes of suffering, the murmurs of sacrifice, and the last throes of death before her true restoration.
●●●●●
Congressman Anthony S. Brown lived in a refurbished apartment complex, a five story tall building that housed his campaign office, side-laundry business, and his home on the last floor.
Living alongside him was his lovely wife, Linda, who fled Kuwait a few years ago, where she met with Anthony and took his name as her own. Mrs. Brown took on being a housewife and the wife of a congressman with civility and strength, indemnifying the loss of her childhood home as she created a new one in the warm embrace of her husband.
One of Linda's favorite hobbies was knitting and, sure, such a hobby was a direct consequence of her country's misogynistic culture and she was aware of it. Nevertheless, she had come to love the waves of fabric caressing her bulging belly and the tales she could weave into the tapestry were a trait passed down to her by her ancestors.
"Linda, good news!" Anthony entered the room, a sickly smile on his face. Before he could engender Linda with his 'good news', the politician knelt down and kissed his unborn baby. "Hello, little one. I have good news."
"Yes, you've told us already." She giggled at the silliness of his man, a busy man who almost never had time for his family–at least until that airplane accident a few months ago.
"What is it, my love?" She asked, gently settling down her tools onto the table beside her.
Anthony sat next to her, giddily telling her of his tale. "Remember the millionaire's son who saved me in that airplane accident? Well, he finally agreed to have dinner at our place."
A swell of delight blossomed upon Linda. "Really? That's great. I haven't even able to thank him for that. When is he coming?"
"Uh, tonight, actually. And he actually asked to stay here for the night, which works well to my favor." Anthony had the smug smile on his face, the same smile he had when he had won last election. "We're going to be discussing his, uh, donation to the senatorial race and some other things."
"Really? Do you even need it? I thought the California caucus already had your vote?" Linda was not well-versed in American politics, even if she had lived here for the past seven years.
"Listen, my love, this is not just about politics. There are bigger things at stake here!" There was a gleam of madness within the light of joy in Anthony's eyes, one that she had seen all too well recently.
Still, it was her job to support her man and, even if she didn't, there were other people whose literal job was to do so. As such, Linda let the smile grace her face and stood up like a wobbling penguin.
"Of course, my dear." She kissed his forehead. "Do you want me to cook the good stuff?"
"Hell yeah. Cook the good stuff."