There is a story that hunters tell each other in bar rooms and rest stops, on dark nights around camp fires, or while drinking beers in the beds of their trucks. It’s the story of two brothers — one ordinary, one Chosen — who faced every demon and monster imaginable before they fought their final fight.
How much of it is true, few hunters know. Some of them think none of it is. Others claim to have witnessed a scene or two.
It’s a story with many endings, the way the hunters tell it, and none of them are even certain how it began. But still they tell it, and clink their beers together or nod in understanding, and thank God they’re not the Winchesters.