We all know (or should) about Supernatural, but the character that makes this a crossover is a one from a Graham Masterton novel called Edgewise/Wendigo called John Shooks - he is not my OC, but he is a character that I have come to adore; I have used him in other fictions as well, but though he fit into the whole Supernatural world rather well.

That being said, enjoy.

"You wait here boys, I'll handle this one." Bobby Singer firmly told the two brothers. Dean was about to voice his protest, but the older man was already storming across the parking lot towards a stationary black Buick; the windows of which were tinted green, the car seemed to be in decent order, if a little dated and over used. Sam took a step to follow Bobby and despite his unspoken protest, Dean stopped him, putting his hand in the way. He'd only seen Bobby Singer look so determined once before – and that had been an equally entertaining moment!

Beside the car a tall, slender man stood fumbling with his keys; the car too old to have thought of the prospect of central locking. He wore a broad rimmed hat over his head and a set of Ray-Bans across his eyes, generally speaking he looked like a throw-back and the fact his look hadn't changed over much from the late 1980's hadn't worked in his favour.

"John Shooks, you gutter slime what the Hell are you doin' here." Bobby demanded of the man.

The moment Shooks turned around, a dense black brow raising questioningly above the glasses he was met by the older mans fist to the side of his face. He staggered back against the old car, leaning awkwardly on the wing-mirror snapping it. The familiar stranger slumped against the Buick before hitting the floor, dizzy and uncoordinated.

Dean moved his hand away from Sam and they both arrived on the scene a moment later, in time to see Bobby hovering over Shooks, his expression hard and merciless. Shooks staggered to his feet unsteadily. His hat was lopsided on his head revealing a mess of dark brown hair. His skin was tanned and everything about him seemed to exude a feeling of mysterious darkness, or would do if his usual demeanour hadn't been assaulted and his lip and nose wasn't bleeding so badly.

"Mr. Singer?" Shooks spoke, his question finding voice. He had a faint Minnesota accent with a slight lisp; as though he had been a native of the state, but spent far too much time away from home to keep the accent true. There was also something else interfering with the accent; a hint to a Native American heritage, to faint to be pronounced. He took the time to carefully rearrange his hat and Ray-Bans before taking a ragged handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping his mouth before seeing to his nose.

"What the Hell, Bobby?" Dean asked of his father-figure. It was a rare event that they all worked in the field together; and this was exactly why!

"He deserved it," Bobby protested, quickly glancing towards Dean.

"I did," Shooks confessed, but he didn't elaborate on the reason why, just shuffled uncomfortably, his voice sounding all the more strange for holding his nose with the hankie.

"What's going on?" Sam put in, looking to Dean, then Bobby and then to the stranger before looking back between them all once again. Feeling like he'd missed something. Dean shrugged pulling a 'Who knows?' expression towards his brother.

"Shooks used to be an asset," Bobby said as though the man wasn't in front of him trying to get his nose to stop bleeding, he'd even tilted his head back in a vain attempt to stop the flow. "Could be I used to rely on him for information, 'til he stiffed me; left me and a couple'a' hunters to a sticky fate."

Shooks at least had the decency to look guilty.

"You mean the Wendigo incident?" It wasn't like Sam had memorized all of Bobbys hunting trips that had gone sour, but it often came across like that.

"None other," Bobby replied, his tone of voice harsh; expression fixed on the saturnine man before him. Trying to stare answers from him. Waiting for a cowardly voice of protest from the thin man.

"I warned you, Bobby," came the expected complaint, his head lowering to face the shorter Singer. Shooks snorted loudly, hacking up blood from the back of his throat and nose, spitting it onto the floor, at which point he noticed he'd dropped his car keys. Dean followed his eyes and picked them from the concrete floor.

"Don't even think it, buddy." Dean mocked, instantly taking the side of the tale from Bobby.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked, once again looking between Bobby and Dean, leaving Shooks out of the conversation – giving him no option but to leave the family to decide his fate.

"I want answers," Bobby replied, not looking away from Shooks - the penetrating glare near crippling.

"Not here," Sam protested, the parking lot was to exposed and if they hadn't caught the attention of locals they soon would do. "Take him back to the Motel, we can question him there?" The youngest of them suggested. They all nodded to the proposal; even Shooks who'd resigned to his fate it was about time that the past had caught up with him and these doors were finally closed. He just hoped that they all got the answers they wanted, no matter what beasts the past could drag up.

"I assume you'll be driving," Shooks asked Dean, who in turn took a dour look towards the Buick.

"No chance, that thing looks like a disaster," Dean replied disdainfully throwing the set of keys to Sam – who'd have no choice in driving the car. For the first time they'd been reunited, John Shooks looked hurt by the comment. The car was all he had! He slowly lent forwards and picked up the broken side-mirror before opening the passenger door to ride shot-gun in his own vehicle. While Dean and Bobby made their way back to the much better suited Impala.