CHAPTER ONE
Dean and his brother, Sam, tore through the brush of the old forest as fast as they could. Dean couldn't speak for Sam, but his legs and lungs were definitely burning. The three inch height difference between him and his little brother made more of a difference than one would imagine in these situations. Sam was all legs and Dean had to push harder to keep up. "Dean?" Sam called to his brother without looking back as he continued to run, making sure he was still close. "Right behind ya, Sammy!" he hollered back.
The boys found themselves in a new town nearly every week clearing the community of any unwanted... well, Dean liked to refer to it as "Pest Control". This week they were tracking something in the deep woods outside of Minocqua, Wisconsin. Winter was just around the corner and the crisp, cold air turned their hands red and numb. The lower branches of the trees whipped them in the face, stinging like tiny razors. This, along with the little moonlight they had fading behind a blanket of navy blue clouds, progressively hindered Dean's vision causing him to feel uncharacteristically fearful as he sprinted through the pines. He wanted to slow his pace to avoid colliding with any trees, but he knew that losing Sam in this maze would make things worse.
"Dean, it's here! I see the glare!" Sam yelled. Dean saw the same glowing red light Sam was directing them towards and with one last burst of strength, Dean hurdled over an old stump, landing awkwardly on his feet. "Woah!" Sam caught the collar of his big brother's army flack jacket and yanked him out of the way of an old pickup truck just in time.
They paused for a second realizing they'd lost the creature they'd been chasing: "Looks like a cross between a gnome and some kinda Big Foot," Bobby had described it to them over the phone the day before. "A Hunachah. It takes on human form, but not well and not for long. In the moonlight its fur gives off a red glare so its fellow wood apes can tell it apart from lost humans. Their vision is terrible, but their other senses are superhuman and they need a steady diet of human bone marrow to stay alive."
Sam and Dean had been tracking it for the better part of the night, hoping to plug it full of the herb encrusted bullets one would need in order to kill it. Sadly, neither one realized how quick these things actually were.
"Damn it!" Dean cursed kicking the dirt at his feet. It was then that Sam figured out the red glare they were running after were actually tail lights from the cars traveling down the road they'd run into. Dean collapsed on the stump he'd avoided just moments before, taking a breather to let his heart rest. Sam pulled out his cell phone. "Hey, Bobby... we lost him... no idea. For all we know we were just chasing tail lights... We'll start walking, just keep us posted." Flipping his phone shut, he patted his brother on the back. "How ya holdin' up there?" he joked. Dean grunted, "This is no time for jokes, Sam. We just lost a whole night for nothing. Meanwhile we're God knows how far from Baby."
After another minute or two Dean picked himself up and the two headed down the road towards the old 1967 Chevy Impala that had been so loyal to them over the years.
Dean and Sam Winchester were the last in their bloodline. Plagued by a plethora of demons and angels, their family had been wiped out one-by-one over the last several years; fighting, then giving into, then fighting all the responsibilities put upon them. Bitterly, Dean joked that they were being "volun-told" to keep the world safe from frequent disaster. Given the chance, they would have both rather lived long, normal lives with both their parents around for the traditional formative years: birthdays, little league games, school plays, graduations, proms, weddings, babies, you name it. Who wouldn't want that? But, at this point, even if they did have the chance to hang it all up and pass the torch onto some other poor soul, they couldn't. They were just too deep in.
It seemed like hours before Dean finally spotted the reflection of the now brilliant light of the moon glaring off the slick black paint of the Impala. With a sigh of relief Dean spread his arms wide and hugged his beloved car. "My baby," he said knowing full well Sam could hear him, "she'll always be here waiting for me." Sam rolled his eyes and waited patiently on the passenger side of the car for Dean to wrap up the man-on-car love fest and unlock his door.
The warmth of the heater seemed to burn their skin as they headed back into town. "So, what now?" Sam asked picking up a map. "Now? Pie, beer, and some sleep, little buddy," Dean smirked. He turned on the radio and his smirk spread into a grin when he heard "Misty Mountain Hop" flowing from the speakers. Sam turned down the radio, "Don't you think we should see what we can do about tracking this thing further?"
"Sammy, we just spent the last 36 hours watching this thing and look where we are: tired, freezing, hungry, and I need a friggin' beer. I say we head back to the room, fuel up, rest up, clean up and head out again in the morning." Sam yawned, giving in quickly to his brother's plan. A warm bed and a hot shower did sound pretty perfect right about now.
Dean pulled up to the motel to let Sam out. "Aren't you coming in?" Sam asked pointing to the room over his shoulder with his thumb. Dean shook his head, "There's a place up the road with some burgers and beer. I'll grab some stuff for us while you clean up." Sam sighed and slid out of the car, listening to it drive away as he let himself into their room. Normally, Dean would insist on taking the first shower and hogging all the hot water for himself, so the fact that he was allowing Sam dibs meant one thing: a girl. If he had one, Sam would have bet his entire paycheck on Dean ditching him for a girl that night. And he would have won.
The restaurant Dean was itching for was a cute, little diner called Herr Lehmann's; a family place that served traditional German food, lots of beer, and great pie. Dean was in heaven. He parked the car close to the entrance to see if he could get a glimpse inside.
Earlier that day he'd talked to a girl named Gretchen who thought she may have witnessed something suspicious involving a strange Sasquatch-like creature. After talking to her the first time, Dean knew it wasn't anything worth investigating further, but that didn't matter; she was pretty and when she spoke German it sounded sexier than French, so he said he would meet her later tonight after her shift was over.
Dean sat at the booth closest to the Impala. Like a traditional diner, there were booths along the windows and an isle separated them from the stools at the counter that faced the kitchen. Through the window of the kitchen you could hear the food sizzling and the staff conversing half in English and half in German. The man at the pass was a tall, beefy man with a gray beard and hair that probably used to be black; he had the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. The place smelled so good he wondered for a moment that he might be more interested in the food than the girl. "Agent Simon!" Of course, once he got a good look at Gretchen in her lederhosen, he decided the pie could wait. He smiled and stood up to greet her. "Gretchen," he shook her hand and waited, like a gentleman, for her to sit until he slid back into his side of the booth.
She had bright green eyes that lit up when she smiled. Her long, curly blonde hair was wrapped around her head in milkmaid braids to match her work attire... which was... rather revealing for a place that was considered to be a family eatery.
"Thanks for meeting me," Dean started. Gretchen nodded, "Sure, no problem. If I can help - " Dean put his hand up politely. "We've actually got this under control. Without going too far into detail, I can tell you we've pinpointed our suspect and we're hot on the trail. I've got my best man on it as we speak." Gretchen sighed in relief, her pouty lips pursed as she rested her hand on her chest and sat back in her seat. "Thank goodness," she said. Dean smirked smugly, "Well, it's all thanks to citizens like you who keep such a watchful eye on your communities." Gretchen smiled again and Dean's stomach tumbled again. "So, uh, now that I'm off duty for the night, I don't suppose you'd want to get outta here and - " This time Gretchen put her hand up. "My shift is almost up. I just need to cash out and let my dad know I have a ride home."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, Herr Lehmann! This is my family's place. I'll be right back!"
With that Dean watched her slip out of the booth and disappear into the kitchen. She appeared again at the pass where the blue-eyed man prepared the delicious smelling meals. Dean suddenly went numb in his loins as he watched the chef's face go from perfectly happy to "I'm-gonna-kill-that-son-of-a-bitch" as Gretchen explained she would be leaving that night with a strange man. "Jakob, kommen Sie!" he hollered to another cook. A young man in his mid twenties with the same blue eyes, wearing an old blue and gold trucker hat that read "ACME Packers" across the front took over the food prep. Herr Lehmann stepped onto the floor with his daughter following close behind and Dean nearly shat his pants as the scary German man approached.
"Are you Agent Simon?" Herr Lehmann asked in a very smooth, baritone voice. Dean stood up, faking confidence, and reached out to shake his hand. "Yes, sir. I'm one of the feds in town working on the hubbub you all have going on here," Dean winced a little. Hubbub? "My daughter tells me you'll be taking her home tonight." Dean glanced over the man's shoulder at Gretchen who was obviously irritated that her father was still keeping tabs on her at this age. "Yes, sir, if that's alright with you, sir, of course, sir." Could you sound any less like an fed right now? Gretchen put her hand on her father's shoulder and said something sweet in German. Dean caught himself grinning at the sound of her German, but snapped out of it as soon as his eyes met the eyes of the father who may or may not kill him come morning.
"You will take good care of my daughter, or Jakob and I will put an end to your dates." Jakob waved at Dean through the window with a smile that said "we-don't-want-to-but-we-will". Struggling to maintain what little masculinity he had left, Dean nodded and promised he would take Gretchen home as soon as possible. After a quick kiss on the cheek and another exchange of sweet German words, Gretchen bundled up in her coat and scarf and followed Dean out to the Impala.
Dean switched on the heater and rubbed his hands together. "Sorry about my dad," Gretchen mumbled. "He's really a cupcake. He and my brother just like to mess with the guys I date because they know they're terrifying."
"Well, it works!" Dean blurted out, just as Gretchen barely finished her sentence. She laughed. "Ohh, armer schatz! Let's just go get that beer and you'll feel much better." Dean forced a smile feeling far more emasculated when he noticed Herr Lehmann and Jakob laughing at Dean from inside the restaurant. I hope this bar has pie.