Chapter One : Oh, Cruel Fate.

SWEAT POOLS A soggy mush of bedsheets and messy hair of Solana Castillas, who, once again, has awoken with a scream the entirety of the sleeping quarters of House Cuervo.

A dull thrum of heavy pain settles against her eyelids, and like a child waking from a deep slumber, Solana wipes away the curses clasping her skin shut.

The open-close of doors fills the empty silence, and the woman holds her breath, lips sown together by a blasphemous needle that threatens to undo her stitches.

Like clockwork, Solana Castillas has brought upon hellish retribution to the other residents, and they shake the sleep from their heaving shoulders and crowd around her room.

( Many grumble, scorning her lack of restraint, but living together for years has eroded them into sentient creatures that crave for the strangeness of their proclaimed prophet. Those who truly don't care snore away, already used to the noise ).

The faulty locks on the heavy wooden doors don't take long to give way, and black, blondes, and brunettes are spilling into Solana's room, clamoring and shoving, awaiting her words like a zoo animal on display. Someone flips the lights to her room on, and Solana's eyes sear shut.

She blinks sheepishly as the particularly bright face of Lucky Fernandez takes the place of the clawing light, molding a spot beside her sweat-slicked bed.

"False alarm." Her lips twist into a shy smile, and she blinks up at the hoard of angry spectators with owlish eyes.

Their hopeful expressions morph into scowls, and they return to their rooms groggily, muttering to one another about wasting their time.

Of course, many scoff, Solana Castillas is no prophet. She is merely playing the part.

( Still, they continue to flock around her in hopes that maybe one day, the boy who cried wolf will finally cry out for real ).

Lucky, whose bright blue eyes linger a second too long against Solana's pallid face, tugs his features into a smile, and he pats her knee softly.

"It's the same thing over again." The brunette sighs softly, pulling herself into a fetal sitting position. "Just... white noise."

Lucky smiles sympathetically, brushing strands of his dark curls away from his eyes. He is long due for a haircut, but House rules are strict about weapons being found outside the artillery after training hours. And Lucky does what he can to make the House mad, which sometimes involves blocking his line of vision and causing a few too many near-casualties and an extra paycheck wasted on training gear.

Unfortunately, his charming nature and his dead accuracy hold him tightly wound around the fingers of the higher-ups.

"Go back to sleep, Solana." The man mutters softly, his kind face beginning to fade into a murky peachy grey as Solana rubs and tears at her eyelids.

And with one last smile, he too gets up and returns to his room without another word. Once his built frame is out of sight, Solana settles herself back into her bed, hoping that if she ignores the bright light keeping her awake, it too will fade into the background of her half-dream.

"I don't think you're crazy." A small voice sounds from a far corner of the still-lit room. The woman angles her body to peer into the thinly veiled shadows of her semi-cluttered home, a pang surfacing against her head the more she strains her eyesight.

"Thanks, Celine." Solana sighs upon the realization that the shadow now standing at the foot of her bed is just the troubled young girl. "But go back to bed. It's late."

The child stares at Solana for a few minutes in silence, her lips pursed in thought. Then, without a goodbye, she vanishes back into the darkness, the only sound of her farewell being the click of the door as she pulls it shut behind her and the soft buzz of the lightbulb going out.

Solana settles back into her bed with an ache in her spine and a twist in her throat. She waits until the soft creaks and shuffles of residents returning to their beds becomes empty, static silence, and she turns her head to the ceiling.

When she closes her eyes, the thin trickle of voices begins to erupt around her, millions of conversations running their tongues against Solana's brain. She tries to catch the frayed strings of their angelic voices, but they fizzle and fade before she can fully understand them. And Solana knows; This vessel is not made for eavesdropping on the Divine.

"God?" She calls out tentatively. He never answers, but a filial servant never loses hope.

Solana frowns when her pleas are left unanswered. It happens every night without fail, and yet still she continues her ritualistic tradition in hopes of finally being heard.

The voices stop. Solana doesn't bother concentrating on listening anymore. She pulls her covers and blankets closer to her body and snuggles into her pillow. The frail wind rattles softly outside her window, and slowly, the confines of Solana's mind begin to unravel, her eyes flutter shut, and she sleeps.
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SOMEWHERE DEEP IN the forests of Maine, between the thick weavings of healthy trees and forest, where there are no sounds but the engulfment of bullets and battle cries, is where House Cuervo takes up roots.

There is no use in escaping, many have been made aware through trial and error, or perhaps the fateful accident that leaves them one less than they arrived.

No one fights the call anymore. They have been bred into coldhearted killers, perfect soldiers lining up to be dispersed when and where they're needed.

House Cuervo is surrounded by lush forest that stretches for miles outwards. There is no finding it unless it wants to be found. And it opens its doors only to the misfortunate who have lost the gifts they've been given because of their feeble mortality.

The inhabitants of House Cuervo are meant to be gods, but they are broken down by their flesh and made human by their sins.

Per House rules, the inhabitants are broken up into rankings; Let the best mingle with the better, and the bad mingle with the worst. Sleeping quarters are arranged by gender. Men on one side, women on the other. Those who do not conform to either are forced to pick a side, whether they like it or not.

House Cuervo is made with rules befitting human nature. It clogs up the pores of temptation and leaves behind a dull understanding that there is no other option but complacency. Many try to rebel, but they are no match for the intricacies of the system. Even though they sharpen their teeth like wolves, they are no more than sheep.

There used to be leniency and some flexibility in the House, when its walls were half-empty and only few lingered in the old forest. Roommates were put in place, until some old, no longer living hunters tried killing each other that the House realizes that they cannot breed monsters by the pair.

The higher-ups settle with ten perfect creations. Although they are nowhere near the level they are meant to be, their abilities surpass anything seen in the normal hunter world.

Among them are wildcards - A woman who thinks herself a prophet, a mechanical monster in the making, the devil in disguise - But they are above all, still human.

And when they have spent so long trapped inside a house where they no longer care to leave, there is no one capable of saving them, if they cannot save even themselves.
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THE WINCHESTER BROTHERS, as they seem to do whenever there is a job to be done that no hunter cares enough to take, find themselves in a dingy motel in the heart of Helena, Maine.

They walk around with heavy burdens on their shriveled shoulders, wishing to be men in a world full of pretenders. However, they are mostly stuck in their own heads, afraid of what they are capable of handling, and when it grows too much to bear.

Bobby Singer, half-asleep off old liquor and canned food, barks out their next job through the myriad of chorded telephones stuck to his kitchen wall, a piece of chewed-up jerky stuck between his teeth.

Unfortunately, Sam and Dean are hardly on good terms, despite the blood that runs thick through their veins.

( Sam's slowly becomes tainted, and Dean's has begun to run dry ).

He advises that there is something strange occurring within the state; Doesn't know where, but he had a few contacts that do. The Winchesters are thankful. If anyone can fish out information from thin air, it's Bobby.

Dean Winchester, ever the violent man ( Being locked in Hell for what feels like an eternity certainly does not help ) storms into the tip's home demanding answers, which he gets begrudgingly, after a close shotgun to the head and a mouth full of insults.

Now all Sam and Dean have is the whisper of an address and a name: House Cuervo.

They need to hurry; Things are evolving too rapidly to fight, and the more monsters they defeat, the better they will feel. The burden on their shoulders begins to sink into their bones, and there is no escaping what consumes them.

With an aching for two different endings ( One to be saved, and the other to be the savior, entwined in demon blood and angel dust ) the two brothers must eradicate bad before it grows to engulf the Earth in the End.

But what monsters will they find in House Cuervo? Will it be more than they bargained for, more than two hunters can take?

( Only heaven knows whether they will be able to stomach the manufacturing of perfect weapons that dangle on the precipice of humanity, or whether they will be chewed on and molded into the very same ).

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‎ ‎‎♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE !

hi and welcome to divine madness! thank you to those of you that have worked so hard in making such amazing characters !! i hope to do them justice in the following chapters, but for now, here is a basic introduction to not only house cuervo, but how sam and dean are involved !!

this is my new years gift to you all !! even though it's not much LMAO

the first chapter is very short and prologue-y so i apologize but i wanted to get something out by this year ^^ longer updates to come though (fingers crossed)

here is some basic info about the storyline so far and how it ties into the supernatural storyline!!

1) house cuervo is located in maine (the exact location is not specified because it is built on private property in a forest, so it obviously has no name to go by)

2) the storyline is set around season 4-5 of supernatural !! therefore dean is freshly out of hell and sam is still struggling with his demon blood addiction !! so be prepared for some darker themes (i chose these seasons because they fit the plotline best, what with solana predicting the end of the world & lucifers arrival, and totally not because that was the season i was on when i first thought up this af)

i promise that the chapters will get longer, this one was particularly short because i didn't elaborate on all the characters !

would you guys rather i make certain chapters dedicated to certain characters (from their pov, their feelings, interactions, etc) or have longer chapters with multiple characters all at once ?? lmk

besides that, i hope you guys enjoy this fic because ive had a lot of fun interacting with you guys and getting to write in these cool characters!

other than that pls lmk if there are any mistakes in the spelling or anything so i can fix it !

also don't b afraid to vote or comment, i will probably (very likely) reply!!!! and if you don't understand something, plsplspls lmk!! i want yall to fully understand what's going on

happy reads!

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─── ANNIE