Chapter Text
It was meant to be an open and shut case – a milk run, really. And it should have been.
He didn’t know the exact moment things had gone to shit. Maybe it was at the beginning, when they’d thought they’d hammered out the details of the case. Or maybe it was how they’d gone about it – splitting up.
Divide and conquer, like they’d done a million times before.
Maybe it was that or maybe it was something closer to home – hubris or over-confidence.
Dean didn’t think that was it though, because he and Sam weren’t arrogant. They were just two dumb bastards who’d seen too much and were so covered in monster blood that the hunting of a Wendigo seemed…dull.
It wasn’t the first they’d ever hunted and he figured it wouldn’t be the last.
So he figured it wasn’t about preparation or arrogance. It was just…bad luck.
And that…that fit.
Because their lives hadn’t ever been easy. Things didn’t work themselves out unless they found a way to make it. And even then, it seemed to always be a narrow thing.
But that never mattered because every single time, they managed. So no, it hadn’t been easy. But they’d done it. Through every case and every close call, they’d always walked away.
And maybe they were bruised and bloody after the end of it but they healed and they moved on to the next monster.
They’d leave, job well done and they’d be back on the road in time to get a bite to eat in some diner before crashing in a pay-by-the-night motel that had likely seen better days.
Or at least, that’s what they should have done.
But instead, everything had gone to shit and Sam…
Looking over at his brother in the seat next to him, Dean refused to acknowledge the blood that just kept coming.
If he didn’t look at it, it wouldn’t be real and if it wasn’t real…
Turning away, Dean stepped on the gas and for the first time in his life, he prayed to anything out there that would listen.
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier
There was something about the mountains of Colorado that soothed him. Taller than he had a care to measure and as rugged and untamed as any landscape he’d ever laid eyes on, Dean felt he could hide away within them. Practically a spec in comparison to their great expanse, he thought that maybe, just for a while, that he could imagine himself too small for notice. Small enough, even, to just…be.
A part of himself envied them, the people that had no idea the evil that existed in this world. They could immerse themselves in the vast landscape with ease without a care for what dwelt within it. To them, it was an escape – a vacation.
To Dean it was a job and if he were honest, he’s not sure how he could have enjoyed it anyway. Because how could he, when he was not allotted the same privilege of ignorance that the people he saved took for granted?
That had never been his life. And maybe that was okay.
“Dean.”
Blinking, Dean tightened his hands on the wheel before casting his brother a glance.
Just on the edge of surly, Sam’s expression was an impatient one as he stared at him.
On a frown, Dean looked back at the road. “What?” He asked.
Sam rolled his eyes. “I said the turn off for the motel is up ahead.” His voice tinged with annoyance, Dean guessed that Sam had probably tried to get his attention more than once.
But rather than call him out on his attitude, he nodded.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, his soulful eyes narrowed with worry that he was obviously trying to hide.
Dean shrugged. “Yeah, fine. Why?”
Sam was still staring at him with a considering frown as he replied, “Dunno. You’re just extra quiet today.”
Scoffing, Dean flicked his blinker on and switched lanes to take the offramp his brother indicated. “What? Am I not allowed to be introspective?”
His brother shrugged and ran a hand through his brown hair. “You don’t really do introspective, Dean.”
Internally shriveling up at the expressive look on the other man’s face, Dean couldn’t deny it.
Their entire lives Dean hadn’t stopped much to consider their lives – their choices or rather lack thereof, it felt like. Their youth comprised of hunting and only hunting, he didn’t often allow himself the time to think of anything else.
And why bother? He was good at it, wasn’t he? He’d been raised for it, at any rate and turning to anything else would just be a waste. And they’d lost too much for that.
First their mom, so many years ago. Then dad –
But that one didn’t really count. John Winchester was alive – he just wasn’t here. Dean didn’t really know where he was, just that he was alright. He’d check in occasionally but that was it. He wouldn’t tell them where he was or what he was hunting.
And he and Sam had given up asking a long time ago.
“Dean.”
On a sigh, Dean cast his brother an impatient glare. “Can we drop the feelings talk, please? Tell me more about the case.”
Lips twisted in a frown, Sam replied, “You can talk to me, you know. You don’t have to –”
“Sam.” Dean interjected, carefully checking his tone. He knew his brother meant well. Sam wanted so badly for Dean to vomit his emotions out – to do anything but keep them bottled up. But it wasn’t in his nature.
All their lives he’d had to be the strong one – to have no doubts and to keep them on course. So even if he’d wanted a vacation – to lose himself in the mountains and hide away – he couldn’t. Because if he did it once, he’d do it again until all that was left would be a shell of the soldier he needed to be.
And what would become of Sam if that happened? His brother was a good hunter and wicked smart. But there was a softness to him that Dean didn’t want to see disappear.
So if he had to obliterate any softness within himself to see his brother protected, he’d do it, no questions asked.
Turning onto the main street of the little town they’d found themselves in, Dean said, “Just skip the brotherly talk, alright?” He kept his eyes on the road and kept a lookout for the motel. “Let’s just…work this case so we can move on.”
His lips still a thin, unsatisfied line, Sam replied lowly, “Fine.” Clearing his throat, he look down at their dad’s journal and said, “All signs point to a Wendigo. Locals claim to have seen a tall, gaunt-like creature with pale skin.” He flipped through the newspaper article. “Killings started a month ago and so far…” Sam tucked the paper into the journal. “…four people have gone missing. Only hiker to survive it claims she saw a pair of red eyes that towered over her from the shadows.”
Eyes on the motel’s green exterior that was in desperate need of a paint job, Dean turned into the parking lot as he asked, “The hiker still local?”
Sam shook his head and closed the journal before tucking it into his bag. “Don’t know. But we can ask around.”
Nodding, Dean turned the Impala off and opened the door. Eyes on the small restaurant across the two-lane main road, he murmured, “Go grab us a table, will you? I’ll head inside and get us a room.”
When Sam nodded and stepped from the car, Dean grabbed his wallet and flicked his shirt and jacket over his gun before he walked inside the motel office.
Already calculating how many nights they’d need, Dean smiled at the girl behind the front desk. “How much for a room?” He asked, leaning against the counter.
Eyes heavy lidded with makeup, she popped her gum and looked at him with interest. Her fingernails clicking on the aged wood of the countertop, the black gloss she wore caught his eye.
“Just one?” She asked, her tone doubtful. Her gaze flicked to where she’d obviously seen Sam disappear. Black painted lips turned up in a smile, she teased, “You want one bed or two?”
Uncomfortable and more than a little offended, Dean replied stiffly, “We’re brothers.”
The girl snorted and rolled her eyes as she turned to the computer. “Yeah, sure.” She replied, her tone indicating that she didn’t believe him one bit.
Irritation coursing through him, Dean fought against the retort on the edge of his tongue and instead said lowly, “Two beds. Three nights if you got it.”
Three was being generous. Assuming they were right and they were hunting a Wendigo, it would take a day or two to gather information and then another to actually kill it. They knew what they were doing, yes, but it was still best to take their time. Hunters who rushed in blindly never lasted long.
Popping her gum again, the girl nodded. “Sure, we got it. Three nights, one room.” She roved her eyes over him. “Two beds.”
Dean forced a smile onto his face as he handed her a card that he hoped still worked. “Yup, great. Thanks.”
Taking it from him, she swiped it and handed it back before sighing too loudly to be anything but rude. She grabbed a key and handed it to him. “Here. Don’t lose it or you’ll have to pay for rekeying.”
Dean reached for it quickly as he nodded. “Sure.” Turning away, he palmed open the door and made his way back towards their car. Key stowed in his pocket, he grabbed his and Sam’s bags before walking towards their room. His stomach clenching in hunger, Dean opened the door quickly before tossing their things onto the nearest bed.
Taking the time to pee and clean up a bit, he figured he’d been some ten minutes by now. Long enough for Sam to have grabbed them a table, he was sure.
Steps growing quicker at the thought of food, Dean swore he could feel the girl’s eyes on him the entire time it took him to walk from their room to the restaurant.
The first night they didn’t accomplish much. Too tired from the drive to delve into research or immerse themselves in town, Dean and Sam ate in near silence before heading back to their room for a much needed few hours.
The following morning, Dean was slow to rise but at the smell of coffee, he looked up.
“Here.” Sam said, handing him a to go cup.
Grateful, Dean sat up and took it from him. Breathing the smell into his lungs as deeply as he could, he took a sip before asking huskily, “How long you been up?” A dull glance up at Sam revealed a younger brother far too awake for his own taste.
Snorting, Sam gathered a change of clothes from his bag before tossing them onto the bed. “Few hours. I went for a run.”
Closing his bleary eyes for a moment, Dean asked, “How far’d you get?” When he heard Sam still moving around, he looked over at him.
Tall form heading into the bathroom, the other man answered, “Six miles.” At the noise of disgust Dean couldn’t hold back, he teased, “Some of us enjoy cardio, Dean. It’s good for you.”
Putting his coffee cup on the side table, Dean groaned and laid back once more. “The only cardio I’m interested in is –”
“Save me the visual.” Sam interjected, already turning away. He’d just started the water when he called back out, “Don’t fall back asleep. We got shit to do.”
Dean huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed, indulging in a few more moments with his eyes closed as his listened to the water of Sam’s shower.
His routine militaristic, Sam wouldn’t take but a five or six minute shower. From that point he’d be dressed within another five.
Personally, he didn’t know how his brother moved so fast. With how gargantuan he was, he’d always expected the other man to need time to get moving. But here they were, Sam too quick for his own good and Dean, trying desperately to steal a few moments of indulgence.
He’d eat his gun before leaving his coffee unfinished or rushing through his morning routine. Because to him, starting off his day like that would probably ruin it. And they had enough bad days to be volunteering for more.
Dean opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling when he heard the water turn off.
He had probably four minutes left.
On a groan, he sat up and reached for his coffee again. Taking another sip, he flipped the covers off of himself before swinging his legs over the side. Dean had just taken the last few sips left of his coffee when the bathroom door opened.
Towel wrapped around his waist, Sam treaded lightly to his bed as he said, “All yours.”
A grunt his only reply, Dean threw the coffee cup into the trash before heading to the bathroom.
“No twenty minute showers, Dean. We need to get a move on.” Sam called over to him, his tone probably meant to convey how serious he was.
And if he hadn’t been the older brother, he might have found himself acquiescing to it.
As it was, he settled for a compromise. He took a ten minute shower but hurried through everything else so that in the end, their delay was only a little past fifteen minutes.
Still longer than Sam had preferred to wait, the sour look the younger man had passed him had gone mostly ignored. And after they got a move on and grabbed a bite to eat, Sam’s expression had leveled out into a considering one.
Looking down at the newspaper clipping, he said, “The hiker that was attacked – Valerie Dickenson – it just happened a few days ago. I’d guess she’s still in the hospital.” He cast Dean a glance. “What do you think?”
On a shrug, he put the Impala in gear as he said, “Let’s hope she is. If she can tell us exactly where she saw it, we’ll at least have a starting point.”
When Sam nodded, Dean turned out of the diner parking lot and pointed them towards the hospital.
A little under twenty-five hundred people called Pinewood Creek home. Their downtown was relegated to a few mom-and-pop stores with a few tourist attraction shops here and there that provided the small mountain town some revenue. Potted plants adorning the sidewalks that lined the same two lane road that they’d followed along when they arrived, it made for a charming little area.
Or, Dean supposed, it would have been charming if not for the recent string of murders.
Eyes on the road, Dean noted a fair amount of people along the walkways. Clearly word hadn’t spread so far as to deter travel here. Or at least not yet. And if he and Sam did their jobs, this sleepy town’s little nightmare would soon be over.
“I think that’s the hospital.” Sam mumbled, his green eyes taking in the small building that Dean had nearly overlooked.
More of a small care center rather than the slightly larger medical facility he might have expected, Pinewood Creek Hospital was as…quaint as the rest of the town. Sporting a clean parking lot and flowers that bracketed the walkway and entrance, the building was still only two stories.
“Hope they never have a bigger problem here.” Dean muttered, thinking how few beds they’d have available.
Eyebrows raised, Sam chuckled. “Yeah, lets just hope they didn’t kick out our witness.” Opening the door quickly, Sam unfolded his long limbs as he got out. Fixing his suit to straighten it, he cast Dean a glance over the Impala. “We goin’ Fed?”
Straightening his own jacket, Dean made sure he had his ID before nodding and together they made their way inside.
The interior just as charmingly antiquated as the outside, the hospital was, thankfully, quiet for the time of day. It made it a lot easier to bypass the front desk and whatever limited security they had.
It didn’t take long to find where they kept the majority of the patients. The upstairs rooms fit to hold far more people than the lower level, Dean found the hallways a great deal busier.
“Hey.” Sam murmured, too lowly for others around them to take notice.
Dean looked askance at him and saw his brother jerk his chin at the nurses station. Straightening, he pulled at his sleeve as he fell into character.
Something they’d been taught in their youth, their ability to slip into whatever cover they needed came without conscious thought. It didn’t matter what it was – they had so many identities at their disposal that there hadn’t yet been a situation they’d found themselves in that they couldn’t work around.
They’d gotten so good at it that sometimes even Dean forgot they weren’t the real deal.
At the clearing of Sam’s throat, the three nurses looked up from their seats behind the station. One woman, young enough to have just likely graduated from medical school, asked timidly, “Can we help you?” She smiled up at him as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
Dean smiled charmingly but with more than a hint of authority, replied, “We need to speak with Valerie Dickenson.” He fished out his FBI badge and watched Sam do the same as he said, “We’re here about the recent hiking attacks.”
The darker-haired, slightly older nurse snorted and said, “An understatement if I ever heard one.”
The nurse that looked older than both of them laughed even as the blonde one chewed at her lip. Looking hastily away from their badges, she looked to the nurse next to her and asked softly, “Do we…?” She blinked and looked at Dean and Sam with wide, blue eyes. “I’m not sure…”
The oldest nurse stood and rolled her eyes. “Good Lord, Cathleen, you need to get over this shyness of yours.” Looking at them, she indicated they follow her. “Come along, boys, I’ll show you to Ms. Dickenson.”
Pocketing their badges, Sam nodded politely as Dean cast the young nurse a smile. “You’re doin’ great.” He winked and followed after the other nurse.
Behind him he heard his brother let out a sigh.
Ignoring him, Dean asked, “We didn’t catch your name.”
Trailing along in front of them, their nurse’s brown eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I’m Cindy. Nurse Cindy for some twenty years now and I gotta say, you’re the first FBI agents I’ve ever met.”
Sam cleared his throat and said politely, “I’m Agent Decker.” He nodded at Dean. “My partner, Agent Monroe.”
Canting his eyes over the various rooms bustling with activity, Dean listened as the nurse replied, “Can’t say I’m not glad you’re here.” She shuddered. “The recent attacks are just awful.” She looked over her shoulder at them. “Bit odd though, for the FBI to be interested in something like this.” Taking a turn down another hallway, she said, “What with these looking like animal attacks and all.”
Dean smiled. “We just go where we’re told.”
Like dad always said, keep it simple and never divulge more than you had to. The less these people knew, the better.
When they stopped at a room at the end of the hall, Nurse Cindy looked up at them and whispered, “She’s real shaken up about it – the attack.” She winced. “Been real quiet about it too and won’t hardly say a word.” When they nodded she’d just nearly turned away before she said lowly, “I understand you boys have a job to do, but as I’m charged with her care, I’d ask you not to excite her too badly.”
Sam’s smile was a reassuring one as he replied, “Of course. We’ll just need a few minutes of her time and we’ll be on our way.”
On a nod, Nurse Cindy turned away and Dean cast his brother a raised eyebrow as he knocked on the door and entered quietly.
The room was bathed in only a bit of morning sunlight. And Valerie, small as she was, looked to nearly hide under the blankets to escape it. She expression scrunched, the frown she cast them was evidence enough of her worry at their approach.
Letting Sam take the lead, Dean stood just behind his brother as he asked gently, “Valerie Dickenson?” When she nodded, Sam smiled. “We're FBI. I’m Agent Decker.” He nodded once more at Dean. “This is my partner, Agent Monroe. We’d like to ask you a few questions about –”
Brown, mousy hair tucked behind her ears, Valerie sat up a little in her bed as she said quickly, “I already told the police everything. The parks and wildlife guys too.” Her voice soft, Dean didn’t miss the tremble in it.
Sam nodded. “Of course.” He gentled his smile and said softly, “But if you could just go over it with us, we’d appreciate it.”
When Valerie merely winced, Dean asked, “Can you tell us what happened that day?”
Brown eyes looking up at him, he felt terrible for her. It was clear she was alone and scared – probably thought she was crazy, too, if what she’d seen was what they thought it was.
Wiping at her nose with the back of her hand, Valerie answered softly, “I don’t…I don’t know.” She sniffed and sat up a bit more as if it would help her think. Her small hands clenched over her stomach, she said, “I got an early morning start – I was going to head home that night, back to Arizona. I was only here for a few days.”
Sam nodded, his expression sorrowful and so damn empathetic Valerie looked as if she were clinging to it. And when she spoke again, it was to Sam as she said, “I was on Widow’s Peak trail for a while. I got up just fine – took a break at the summit to eat.” She shook her head. “It was about mid-day, I think, and I was heading back down and I just…”
Taking a seat at a chair nearest her bed, Sam nodded. “It’s okay, Valerie. Take your time.”
Her eyes welling up with unshed tears, she whispered, “I felt like something was following me. And I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up and I started to freak out but I didn’t run.” She shook her head again. “They always tell you not to run on trails like that so I didn’t but that feeling kept growing and then I swear I heard someone screaming but then it was just so quiet.”
Looking down at her, Dean asked, “What’d you see?”
Valerie flinched. “I…I’m not sure.”
Casting Dean a glare, Sam reassured her softly, “Just tell us what you think you saw. We’ve seen a lot of weird things.” He smiled. “You can tell us.”
Swallowing thickly, she nodded and nearly too quiet for them to hear, she said, “When I heard rustling behind me, I really thought it was going to be a bear. But when I looked…” Her tears spilling over, she managed to say, “It was so awful. The…thing, it…it was tall – like it towered over me and I could see it was thin and this…” Her face scrunched in disgust. “It was this awful pale color and it’s eyes were red and it smelled so bad, like –”
When she stopped abruptly in remembrance, Dean finished, “Like death?”
Eyes wide in panic, Valerie nodded up at him. “It just…stared at me and I didn’t think. I just ran and I felt it right behind me and I thought that was it.” She breathed heavily and licked her lips. Her gaze distant, she whispered, “But I fell – I don’t remember over what. But I tripped and I thought I'd hit the ground. But there was just air.” Indicating at her bruises and cuts, she said, “That’s how I got all these. I fell over a ravine, they said. But I didn’t notice. When I stopped falling, I hit the ground and rolled but I didn’t stop. I got up and even though everything hurt I just…”
Sam nodded kindly. “Police report said they found you on the main road, few miles from where you mentioned your attack happened.”
Valerie nodded. “Some guy picked me up – took me to the hospital. I don’t remember much in between. I think I passed out.”
Looking up at Dean, Sam nodded before turning his eyes back to Valerie. “Thank you for talking with us about this. I know it must have been hard.”
When the girl only nodded, Dean stepped forward for his turn. “Valerie, think you can pinpoint on a map exactly where you think this happened?” He nodded at the map in his hand as he handed it to her. “Show us the trial and where you first felt it.”
Shakily, she took it from him. “You aren’t going out there, are you?” She asked, horrified.
Dean smirked. “Gotta make sure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. Because you got lucky. The three people before you didn’t.” He nodded at the map. “Just get us the closest you can.”
Nodding shakily, Valerie took the pen Sam held out to her.
“I don’t know, man.” Sam said, munching on a salad he’d grabbed from the diner. Set at the tiny dining table in their motel room, he was looking at their dad’s journal with a frown. “If it is a Wendigo, we’re gonna need some serious fire power.”
His lap top in front of him, Dean was eyeing the 3D map of the National Forest as he replied, “Flame thrower for sure.” Without looking, he picked a french-fry from his to go box and shoved it into his mouth.
Sam nodded, still looking down as he chewed on a carrot. “Thing is, too, it’s gonna be desperate.” He looked at Dean. “It missed out on a meal and now it’s probably ravenous.”
Dean winced. “Which could make it unpredictable.” On a sigh, he closed his laptop and grabbed the paper map they’d had Valerie mark up. “Trails a good six miles.” He pointed at her circle. “This is where she said she first started to feel off so chances are, this thing’s got a little hovel somewhere within two or three miles.”
Blowing out a breath, Sam sat back in his seat. Running a hand through his hair, he said, “We can’t cover that much ground.”
Dean ran his tongue over the back of his teeth before he agreed, “No, we can’t.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “So…use ourselves as bait? Draw it out?”
Tapping at the map absentmindedly, Dean answered, “We’ll gear up – make ourselves as loud and appetizing as possible. With any luck, it’ll think we’re easy targets.”
Gaze distant, Sam nodded. “Alright.” Checking his watch, he said, “We still need to talk to the Parks and Wildlife service.”
Watching Sam grab what was left of his salad, Dean grunted in agreement. They’d need to check with the wildlife service first – rule out bear or anything else. They had Valerie’s testimony, yes, and they were nearly positive about what they were hunting. But checking in with the people that had a first-hand account of the bodies that were found wasn’t a box they couldn’t not check off.
And so Dean and Sam left their motel quickly, eager to hear what they knew would likely only cement what they believed.
Driving within the national park was pleasant and Dean could almost forget why they were here. With the windows rolled down and the mountain breeze ruffling his hair, he smiled as one of his favorite songs came on the radio.
From beside him, Sam was casting him an impatient glare. “Really, Dean?” He remarked.
Rolling his eyes, Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. “What?” He frowned at Sam. “It’s a good song.”
Sam shook his head as he rolled up his window. “We’re on a case.” He turned down the radio. “No AC/DC until after we’re done.”
Scoffing, Dean turned back to the road. “You’re no fun, Sammy.” He said, cuffing his brother on the shoulder. “Got to get our entertainment when we can.”
Still shaking his head, Sam replied, “You get plenty of entertainment.” His insinuation obvious, he cast Dean a teasing smile.
Mildly affronted, he scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, continuing them up a winding path that would take them to the parks and rec headquarters.
Looking out his window at the passing scenery, Sam said, “Look, just focus on the case.” He gestured with his hands and turned a disapproving eyebrow at him. “Once we’re done here, we’ll hit the road and find somewhere more hospitable to your…” He waved a hand dismissively.
Dean frowned, more than a little irritated now. “To my what?” He asked, voice gruff.
But Sam was holding his hands up now in a placating way. “Hey, man, no judgement. You have a certain way you wanna blow off steam and I get it. It’s been a while and –”
“So what, you think my head isn’t in it?” Dean asked, likely more aggressively than he should have. When Sam didn’t answer, he shook his head. “I’m in it, Sam, okay?”
Sam frowned agreeably. “Yeah, okay.” He nodded at the road ahead and the turn off. “Headquarters is right around the corner there.”
Still affronted, Dean said nothing as he continued to drive.
He wasn’t sure there was anything to say. Sam wasn’t wrong – Dean tended to get restless sometimes and the only outlet he’d managed to find that wasn’t destructive was in between the sheets with whoever took his fancy that night. But lately they hadn’t found the time for relaxation of any kind and he’d found himself in a bit of a dry spell.
And it was irritating, sure, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the job.
Parking the car outside the main headquarter doors, Dean shut the Impala off as he asked Sam, “Hey, do you really think…?” He stopped and looked at his brother’s puzzled expression. “You don’t really think I’d let somethin’ like that distract me from the job, do you? Nothing is more important than this.” He nodded, mostly to himself. “I know that.”
Clapping him on his bicep, Sam snorted and shook his head. “Dean, I was teasing you.” He frowned playfully at him. “But I meant what I said. Let’s take a break after this. We could both us it.” Opening his door, he stepped out as he said, “Plus, I know how you get when you haven’t gotten your rocks off.”
Dean glared at Sam as he slammed the door.
“Dick.” He said, before crawling out himself.
Badges in place, they entered the small lobby and noted with disinterest the animal heads on the walls and the magazines on the waiting area table that were probably from the early 2000s.
“Can I help you?” A man asked, belly large and mustache so thick his lips had no hope of seeing the light of day. But his expression was friendly as he regarded them, so Dean figured they’d have an easy time getting the information they needed.
Holding out a hand, Dean said, “FBI. Agent Monroe. This is my partner, Agent Decker. We’re here about the recent murders.”
Shaking his hand and then Sam’s, the man replied, “Kal Brenning – chief of staff.” He frowned. “What are two FBI agents doing this far out?”
Sam put his hands in his suit pockets. “We go where we’re told.” His smile was a grim one as he asked, “What can you tell us about the remains?”
Brenning winced but indicated they follow him to his office. Over his shoulder, he said, “I got some photos, if you want to have a look. But it was pretty bad. One vic we haven’t even found yet and the one we did…”
Without saying another word, Brenning sat down behind his desk before digging through files at his leg.
Sam cast Dean a glance before sitting in the chair opposite.
Dean, after a moment, followed suit and together they watched Brenning sigh before he found the file. Taking it in hand, he handed it to them. “Like I said, it’s pretty bad.”
Taking the folder, Sam flipped it open and it was a testament to their experience that he didn’t flinch.
Because it was a gruesome sight. There wasn’t much left of the body to identify him and without the wallet that had been found in his back pocket, it’s likely that he never would have been. His face torn and his sternum ripped open from throat to navel, the man’s insides had been torn to shreds. Nothing left but rot and bone.
Flipping through the coroner’s report, Sam asked, “Bear?”
Brenning sat back in his seat. Eyes wide, he shook his head. “No bear that we’ve ever seen. Bite marks don’t check out and…” He grimaced. “I’ve seen some bear attacks – wolves too. Mountain lions. But this…” Brenning folded his hands on his stomach. “Something about it just doesn’t seem right. What was left of the guy, it was too clean. Meticulous.” He shook his head. “Never seen an animal pick apart prey like that.”
Humming in agreement, Sam said, “We spoke with the latest victim – Valerie Dickenson. She was found a few miles on the main road.”
Brenning took a deep breath and sat forward. Hands on his desk, he looked at them gravely. “Look, I don’t know what that poor girl saw out there but I heard her testimony and what she described…” He sucked at his teeth and shook his head. “The forest can play tricks on you – make you think you’re seeing something that isn’t there.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “She seemed pretty adamant about it.”
Brenning held up his hands. “I know.” He replied, tone careful as if he were hesitant to offend. “But the thing is, I’ve never seen anything like what she said she saw.” He looked at the closed folder Sam had placed back onto his desk. “But I also can’t explain what’s in those photographs either.”
His mind clearly elsewhere, Sam nodded and said, “If you could make us a copy of the corner’s report.”
Already standing, Brenning nodded. “Sure thing.” He said, taking the folder in hand. “I’ll be right back.”
When he closed the door behind him, Sam turned to him. “Coroner’s report is pretty damning, Dean, and you saw those pictures. Guy was picked clean – organs stripped. Bite radius is pretty on par with a human’s. So definitely not an animal.”
Dean sighed. “Well, we can definitely rule out a werewolf.” He nodded. “Alright, Wendigo is it. We should –” Cutting himself off when the door opened, they smiled politely to Brenning as he handed them the copies they’d requested.
Standing, they shook his hand again as Sam said, “We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
Still obviously confused why the FBI would be involved at all, the man nodded and replied, “Sure. Of course.”
Leaving quickly, they were back on the road within minutes and now, absolutely certain in what they were hunting, they could begin planning.
In the end, and in the interest of using their time wisely, they’d opted to camp out rather than simply go on a hike and hope they ran into the Wendigo. This way, they could set themselves up with all the makings of inexperienced outdoorsman that would hopefully draw it closer to them.
Because Wendigo were smart and within these parts of the world, you’d find no better hunter. They were strategic and they wouldn’t expend too much energy on hunting prey that had a better chance of outwitting them.
Which is why he and Sam needed to at least look like they had no idea what they were doing.
“Dude.” Dean complained, casting his brother an impatient glance as he gestured at the fire. “Really?”
From his place by the fire, Sam paused and frowned at him before looking at the small pyre he’d built. “What?” He asked.
Seated on a log as he organized their camping gear, he shook his head. “We’re supposed to look like we don’t know what we’re doing, remember?” He indicated at the fire pit. “Make it look…I don’t know, messier.”
Blinking, Sam cast the logs a considering glance before he moved a few pieces so that they were out of place. It wouldn’t burn as well but that was the point.
“Better.” Dean said, tossing him the small box of matches.
Sam rolled his eyes. “You really think it’s gonna notice how the fire’s built, Dean?” Standing up, he moved towards the pieces of their tent that they hadn’t gotten to yet.
Without looking at his brother, Dean unsheathed his machete to check the blade as he replied, “You wanna take the chance that it won’t?” He looked up at the other man.
But Sam was already working on their tent and true to their plan, it was a bit haphazard. Uneven and probably not airtight, it looked as if a novice had put it up. And Sam’s louder than strictly necessary grumblings only made the entire scene that much more believable.
By the time they’d made camp, darkness had fallen and it was with a cloying anticipation that Dean flipped his hot dog on the fire. With disinterest he noticed that he’d probably cooked the other side too long. But he couldn’t concentrate on his dinner when he knew what was out there. Like a clawing in his belly, he wanted to move – to hunt it before it could hunt them.
But this was their plan. To wait and watch.
They’d set up camp very near where Valerie had been attacked with the hopes that the Wendigo would likely stick to its same patterns. At the very least, they knew it had a hunting radius and where they’d opted to bed down was smack dab in the middle of it.
“I forgot how quiet it could be out here.” Sam murmured softly, twisting his hot dog over the fire absentmindedly. His eyes cast down, he knew his brother was scanning the forest for any movement.
Humming in agreement, Dean replied, “Maybe one day we’ll get to do this without…” Tongue in cheek, he trailed off. Not wanting to give voice to the rest of his thought, he knew Sam had already guessed it.
A soft smile on his face, the brunet nodded. “We should plan for it.” He shrugged. “After.”
Eyes on the flames, Dean smirked and chuckled.
“What?” Sam asked, eyes narrowed on him with curiosity.
Shrugging, Dean asked, “Remember when dad took us camping as kids?” Fighting back a grin, he flipped his hot dog again. It was almost done, not that he was overly invested in eating it.
Sam snorted. “You mean do I remember the one and only time we ever went camping that wasn’t a –” On a wince, his brother cut himself off, mindful of the hearing range of a Wendigo.
If it was even near them.
Taking his hot dog off the spit, Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I remember. It was fun.”
Dean laughed softly, nodding. “The look on your face was priceless. After that last ghost story dad told –”
“Shut up.” Sam interjected, both irritated and amused all at once. He pointed his hot dog at Dean. “You made it worse. I was like, what? Eight?” Lips a thin, annoyed line, he said, “I was fine until you started trying to freak me out.”
Laughing outright now as he remembered his brother’s large, terrified eyes looking up at him as he pretended to hear something in the woods, Dean wiped at his left eye. “It was funny and you –”
“It wasn’t funny, Dean.” Sam argued.
Wasted effort as it was, Dean tried to contain himself as he turned his attention to his hot dog, which was far and away charred and probably not at all edible. “No, it definitely was. Even dad –” Trailing off, Dean cocked his head at the faint sound of a branch snapping. “Did you hear that?” He asked, quiet.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”
Dean held up a hand to quiet his brother, attention to their left. “No, seriously.” He murmured. Casting his eyes around the concealed weapons laid out along their campsite, he eyed his gun first and then the machete. Neither weapon would do any good against a Wendigo. They were fast and most weapons had no effect on them.
The flame thrower they carried was close at hand but wielding it was difficult and they’d have to find a way to pin it down before they could –
Several branches broke in quick succession and the rustle of leaves grew tenfold when they both heard the panting of breath. But it was erratic – stressed.
Dean cast his brother a look as they stood.
Beside him, Sam backed up a step towards the bag that held the flamer thrower. His eyes on the forest, his left hand was at his back, where his own gun was stashed.
Reaching for his own, Dean flicked the safety off when the rustling grew so loud that whatever was among the trees could only be a yard away from them. On a nod at Sam, he knew his brother was edging closer to the only weapon that could kill –
They both flinched when out of the brush a young woman emerged, followed quickly by a man.
Both caked with dirt, their clothing was torn and several scratches adorned their arms and faces. Eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, neither one seemed to care for the guns raised in their direction.
“Oh, thank God.” The woman said, her voice trembling. “Please, you have to help us.”
Dean met Sam’s eyes as the man pushed the woman forward and further away from the trees. A torn-up bag on his back, he looked behind them with more fear than Dean thought appropriate, considering they hadn’t yet lowered their guns.
Terror in his every word, the man nodded and said shakily, “We – we were hiking and we got lost and then…” He looked back towards the trees. “There was…”
When the man seemed incapable of continuing, the dark-haired woman asked quickly, “Do you guys have a phone? Or…” She looked between them, panicked and seemingly just now noticing the guns. “Thomas…” She whispered, backing away.
Sam lowered his gun quickly and looked at Dean impatiently when he was slow to do the same. “Hey hey, look.” He holstered his gun and held up his hands. “Can’t be too careful, right? Never know what’s out there.” He said, a kind smile on his face that only Dean knew was tinged with strain.
Edging closer to them once more, the woman urged the man to move with her. “We thought we heard something out there. Felt like it was chasing us.”
Dean winced because of course things couldn’t just go smoothly. They’d hoped they’d be the only ones out here and now…
Protecting a civilian couple from a Wendigo while also trying to hunt it was an impossibility. And dad has always trained them to save first, hunt after.
Get the vic out of the way and then take care of the monster.
Easier said than done though, in this case. Because if they left tonight who was to say the Wendigo wouldn’t alter it’s terrain? In the mountainous expanse around them, it would be damn near impossible to find again if it went off grid.
Teeth gritted, Dean considered what they should do and beside him, he saw his brother doing the same. But both of them knew it was out of their hands now. They had to get these people to safety and whatever cards fell after that…
Already moving to pack up their things, Sam said to the couple, “The main road’s not too far from here. We can –”
“Actually, if we could just borrow your phone…” The woman muttered, looking about their campsite and the weapons that flashed in their bags as they packed their things away. “We can…find our own way.”
Stowing his gun behind his back, Dean shook his head as he moved to help his brother. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” He said, his tone short and to the point.
Probably too aggressive, in hindsight.
Thomas moved until he stood just in front of the woman as he said, “Look, buddy, I don’t what you and him are into…” He flinched at the machete as Dean threw it into his bag. “But we don’t want any trouble.”
The woman cast the forest around them an assessing glance, as if weighing if it was safer to just return to them. Looking up at Thomas, she whispered, “Let’s just go –”
“Whatever you think you saw out there – it’s real.” Sam said, his voice as kind as he could manage just then.
Thomas shook his head. “We’re not even sure what we saw, okay? We just –”
“It’s a Wendigo.” Dean said, his impatience bleeding into his voice. They needed to get these people out of here and their obvious reluctance would get them killed.
The woman frowned. “A what?” Eyes wide, she cast the man with her a terrified glance. “They’re insane.” She whispered, as if they couldn’t hear her. “Let’s go – now.”
But Thomas was still staring at them. “What’s a…whatever you called it?” He asked.
“A Wendigo.” Sam repeated, forgoing the tent in favor of getting the hell out of there. “It’s a creature that used to be a human – but it’s not anymore. It feeds off humans and it’s damn fast and it can track its prey without breaking a sweat.” Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he said, “Which is why we need to go – right now.”
Looking between them, the woman tugged on Thomas’s arm even as she asked, “If all that’s true then why the hell are you even out here?”
Dean smirked and threw his bag over his shoulder. “We’re here to hunt it. Or we were, until you guys –”
“Dean.” Sam hissed, a warning in his voice to play nice. He looked at the couple. “We should go.”
Still clearly terrified of them, the woman looked at Thomas and when he tugged on her arm to follow after them, she nodded shakily.
The pace they set was a fast one – they didn’t speak. They barely even dared to breathe for fear of making a noise.
Not that they didn’t end up making plenty.
In the lead, Dean grit his teeth in annoyance when every step the couple made was loud. Untrained civilians to the core, he figured they could be heard from a mile away. And assuming the Wendigo hadn’t yet given up on its meal, it was no doubt behind them somewhere.
Hacking his way through thicker foliage, Dean stopped abruptly when an inhuman scream rent the air.
“What was that?” The woman asked, quiet but still too loud.
His heart pounding, Dean whispered, “We need to keep moving.” He indicated they continue on. “We should –”
Her scream high pitched and assaulting, Dean flinched when movement on their right sent the woman careening away from them in a panic. “Son of a bitch!” He yelled, his eyes already falling onto Sam, who had his gun raised.
“Marie!” Thomas yelled, a split second before he ran after her.
Dean swore and together, he and Sam sprinted after them.
The hair on the back of his neck rising, he swore he could feel something just behind them. Hidden and silent – it felt like a phantom chasing them.
Playing with them.
But then the feeling was gone and up ahead, they heard another scream followed swiftly by a male cry of pain that could only be Thomas.
Pushing themselves harder, Sam’s long stride saw him a pace in front of him but when they emerged into a break in the bramble, Dean nearly ran into his brother as he came to a stop.
The sight before them was a gruesome one. Thomas was laid out on his back, his chest ripped open and his sightless eyes staring up at the sky. His body jerking with every tug from the Wendigo, it looked as if the other man hadn’t had much time to suffer before being disemboweled.
The Wendigo was just as hideous as he remembered. Just as pale and sickly as all the rest of their kind, Dean still felt a visceral stab of fear at the sight the creature made as it bent over Thomas. Its arms were too long – they seemed endless as it dug into the man, pulling out that it wanted with careful consideration. It’s legs, folded up under its naked body, were bent and wrong. It was huge and when it turned its head to them, Dean couldn’t help but feel the need to run.
Its attention diverted, the Wendigo looked at them with a cunning eye even as its ear twitched towards Marie, who was a terrified, sobbing mess. Thomas’s blood splattered along her face and torso, she looked with wide, dazed eyes at her companion.
The Wendigo seemed content to ignore her. It dropped a bit of Thomas’s innards back into him before it stood to its full height.
“Son of a bitch.” Dean muttered, as its legs unfolded to reveal a creature that stood likely near enough to fifteen feet tall.
Beside him, Sam whispered, “Shit.”
Pulling out his gun that he knew would do nothing but stun it, Dean saw Sam dump his bag onto the ground before doing the same.
The sound of gunfire near deafening, both he and Sam unloaded into the beast as it let out a blood-curdling scream that set his teeth on edge. But still they didn’t stop, even as it tried to come nearer. Its chest was a bloodied mess but it didn’t seem to care.
“Sam! The shotgun –” A half second later, his brother had already tossed it to him and the impact, when he shot the first round, stalled it long enough for Sam to dig out the flame thrower. Cocking the gun once more, Dean took a step forward and shot it again. “Hurry up!” He bellowed, his face pinched in concentration.
His voice harried, Sam swore as he lifted it up and after a moment that felt like an eternity, the weapon hummed with life. Bracing himself, Sam hit the trigger.
The light from the flames hurting his eyes, Dean hissed and looked away. And though he could hardly see the Wendigo go up in flames, he heard it.
Stopped in its tracks, the Wendigo let out an ear-piercing cry as its body began to deteriorate and fall apart. Its insides boiling, Dean smelled its charged flesh even before he saw its skin begin to peel away as time dragged on.
Sam probably only had the flame thrower on for some ten seconds but it felt like an eternity and when he finally shut it off, all that was left was a silence that felt jarring.
Well, almost silent.
Cutting his eyes past what was left of the Wendigo, Dean saw Marie still sitting against the tree. Her gaze was faraway and he knew with absolute certainty that she was in shock. She didn’t even seem to take in the death of the very creature that had killed Thomas.
On a gasp, Sam lowered the flame thrower. His brow sweaty from exertion and the heat of the flames, he winced and let it drop as he rolled his shoulders. Looking down at the Wendigo, he sighed with relief before he looked up and over at Thomas. “Damn.” He muttered, the regret in his voice obvious.
But Dean was already moving. “Marie.” He said, as softly as he could. “We gotta go.”
Shaking her head, her dark hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat. “No, I…” She stared at Thomas. “It…” She swallowed and trailed off.
On a wince, Dean reached for her. “Marie –”
“No!” She screamed, flinching into the tree. “Don’t…”
Looking over his shoulder, Dean looked at Sam for help. His brother was always so much better at this – at being gentle. Himself made of caustic words and more attitude than he knew what to do with, Sam was the very opposite. He could get people to trust him – to believe him and confide in him.
So when his brother looked at Marie and nodded, Dean knew Sam would find a way to get her to listen.
But he never got that chance.
Movement to their right startling them, they didn’t have a chance to react as another large, terribly pale creature emerged from the trees.
It shouldn’t have been possible. Wendigo didn’t hunt in pairs – they were solitary. Territorial. In no lore or records was there ever mention that two could exist within the same area. So when it came at them, Dean had a moment in which he hesitated. Because they hadn’t calculated for this – it just wasn’t possible.
“Dean!” Sam yelled, nearer to them than he’d realized. He’d just felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder when it reached them.
A bellow of rage escaping its gaping mouth, the Wendigo was so close Dean knew he could reach out and touch its disgusting skin. He could smell it already – the scent of death and rot and decay. Flinching away from it and grabbing onto Marie to pull her up and away, he saw its clawed hand come out. But when he’d expected to feel the razor-sharp nails digging into his belly and his insides to fall out, he grunted in pain instead when Sam’s shoulder rammed into him, pushing him back.
And that was all it took, in the end, for their luck to finally run out.
The Wendigo’s claws finding his brother instead, the red, warm splash of blood that escaped him flecked upon Dean’s face and neck and the very feel of it nearly sent Dean so far into his own mind to escape the reality –
It was Sam’s body hitting the ground and the groan of pain that escaped him that had him moving once more. Letting go of Marie without a second’s thought, he dived for his brother. “Sam!” He yelled, pulling him up and away from the Wendigo.
A groan his only answer, Dean felt time slow down as he looked at his brother’s wounds. They were deep – so deep he could have sworn he saw bone. And there was so much blood, it practically spilled out of him.
It wasn’t the first time either of them had been hurt on the job – they’d each suffered wounds so bad it had them laid out for days. But this…
This was so much worse and Dean didn’t –
But he didn’t have time to hesitate. He felt Sam’s grip on his jacket – still firm if tinged with panic – and it was enough to reassure him that there was still life in the other man. That it wasn’t too late.
Hearing the Wendigo let out another bellow, Dean didn’t have the presence of mind to consider it – nor the scream of terror from Marie that told him it had cornered her. But he couldn’t think about that. Not now and not with Sammy’s blood soaking into his clothes.
So Dean lifted his brother to him and when he’d taken the majority of his weight, he forged ahead into the forest, well aware of the quarter mile that separated them from his car and the promise of salvation that it provided.
He just needed to get to the Impala and then he’d get Sam to what passed for a hospital in this town. Everything would be okay after that.
It had to be.
Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Dean spoke quietly to Sam as he pushed them forward. Behind them, Marie’s screams had quieted as the Wendigo had no doubt finished what the other had started. And maybe, given time, Dean would feel badly for that. For leaving her to die.
But Sam…
He wasn’t too good of a man to admit that when push came to shove, he’d always choose his brother over the job.
Over saving a stranger’s life.
It was selfish and terrible but Dean didn’t care. Because Sam was all he had – all he cared about. And he’d be damned if his little brother died like this.
“Almost there, Sammy.” Dean huffed, so close now to the end of the trail he could feel it in his bones.
His breath a pained gurgle, he heard his brother whisper, “Marie…?”
Hushing him, Dean ignored his question and continued on until finally, the car came into view.
He wasn’t sure how he managed it while holding Sam but he got the car unlocked and after carefully folding the other man into the passenger seat, he slammed the door closed and was behind the wheel in seconds. Casting his brother another glance, he pulled out of the lot so quickly he heard the tires squeal.
When they were well on their way into town, Dean squeezed the wheel tightly as he listened to every rasp of breath that issued from Sam. It didn’t matter that it sounded awful or that it seemed every single one would be his last. All that mattered was the slight movement of Sam’s chest that told him it wasn’t too late.
That he hadn’t failed in the only god damn job he really ever cared about.
The only one that mattered.
Because Sam was his responsibility. His dad told him from day one that it was his job to keep his little brother safe and –
He’d failed and now Sam’s blood coated the Impala’s seats and his chest was so torn open that he wasn’t even sure the other man could be stitched back together. Like a broken doll, his brother’s body was a limp, lifeless mess next to him and Dean couldn’t breathe –
Stepping on the gas, he closed his eyes briefly and began to pray.