Alright, chapter two! Since I am currently on winter break, I decided to write another chapter. Thank you for favoriting/following/reviews. It means a lot to me! I hope you all enjoy it!

Sorry for any grammer or spelling errors.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, nor Walking Dead

Chapter 2

The water was freezing against his skin, but Dean barely noticed. After his little run in with the wendigo, Dean was lucky to have found a creak not far from the house to wash the blood from his body. Dean sighed and slipped his shirt back on after he had thoroughly washed the blood from his chest and binded the wounds that the wendigo had caused.

xXxXxXxX

When he had gotten to Georgia, the last thing he had expected to find was a wendigo. He had actually found the wendigo by accident. Dean had had left the Impala on the road the day he found the wendigo to scavange for food in the woods. The first thing tipped Dean off that something was wrong was the lack of Croats that usually filled the woods. The absense of any animal sounds also put Dean on edge, the quiet of the woods making him nervous. Whatever was out there scared everything in this part of the woods off, and that always meant that it was something that he was used to hunting.

Dean instantly went back to the Impala and popped the trunk. Taking the false bottom up and resting it on a shotgun to keep it open, he grabbed a bag and began filling it with things he thought he may need. Once the bag was full of guns, bullets of all kinds and materials, salt, a small canister of gas, and anything else he needed, Dean made one last check to make sure he had his lighter and a back up box of matches in the pocket of his leather jacket, he closed the trunk and began his trek back into the woods. It didn't take him long to detect the smell of rot and even less time to locate the source of it. Laying between the trees, half hidden by debris on the ground, was the top half of a human. Dean knelt down next to it and inspected it.

It was obvious that a Croat didn't do this, Dean concluded after only a few minutes of inspecting the body. A Croat wouldn't leave this much of a body uneaten and seeing how there was no body of one anywhere around, whatever was eating the unlucky bastard was interrupted, most likely by another person. Judging by the state of decay of the remains of the body, the person was killed maybe a day or two ago, so that meant that whatever had gotten the bastard was most likely still around. After he had as much as he needed, Dean stood back up but not without plunging his hunting knife into the center of the person's forehead. You can never be too careful, can you?

The day had began to slowly slip away without Dean even realizing it, and that meant that he had to find a place for a fire soon. He debated on going back to the Impala, but seeing how the car was hidden well enough and he most likely wouldn't get back to it before night fell, he decided against the plan. Instead, he set out to find a place to set up camp. A clearing just big enough to set up a small fire only twenty minutes away from the body served as a good enough camp for the night. It didn't take Dean long to find wood and light the fire using a little bit of gas and a match. Leaning against a tree directly in front of the fire, Dean let himself stare at the flames and get lost in thought. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

vVvVvVvV

"Dean!" Sam yelled out to him as they ran as fast as they could through the streets.

"Don't worry Sam, I'm right here," Dean gasped, running up along side his brother. Sam turned his head only slightly to make sure Dean was there, which he was. His eyes widened as he saw the unsuspected Croat stumble out of the alley right next to Dean and reach for his brother. Without thinking, Sam reached a hand out to stop Dean and twisted his body so his other hand, which held a gun, was pointed at the Croat, and he fired. The impact of the bullet sent the Croat flying back, but it didn't get back up.

"Woah, thanks Sam. I didn't even see that one," Dean said, looking from the Croat that almost got him back to his brother, sending a quick, yet thankful, grin at him. "C'mon, we need to keep moving."

Sam knew he was right, the Croats that had been chasing them in a horde were slowly getting closer and they needed to find a safe place to get away from them. Sam followed Dean as he started running down the street again. They turned a corner and Sam saw that Dean swerve towards a movie theatre down the street. The brothers stopped in front of it and Dean instantly dropped to his knees to begin the work of picking the lock. The glass of the doors were gone, replaced by thick planks of wood, which made Sam feel better. He heard Dean make a sound of triumph and he was the door swing open. A noise from down the street drew Sam's attention and he looked to see the first of the horde had rounded the corner and were now making their way towards the brothers.

"Let's go Sam!" Dean yelled, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him into the dark movie theatre. Dean slammed the door closed and stuck a thick plank of wood that was convieniantly placed next to the door through the doorhandles. Dean turned back around to face his brother, only to see the Croat grab him.

vVvVvVvV

"SAM!" Dean screamed, sitting up with such force that he almost made himself topple over. His breath was coming out it hard gasps, his throat feeling like it was rubbed raw. Sweat made a thin coat on his forehead and he felt it run down his back, soaking his thin shirt and making it stick to his back. He stared at the glowing embers of the fire with wide eyes and he felt the begining of a headache form in his temples. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with his fingers, hoping to massage the headache away. He pushed the dream to the back of his head and began to get ready for the day. Today he was going to find the thing that killed the person in the woods.

As it turned out, he did find out what killed the person, but he lost it. Dean had found the wendigo in the shadows of thick trees, seeing how there were no caves around for it to hide in. Dean was able to sneak up to it, but had no way of getting up the tree to kill it. So, instead, he raised the pistol in his hands and aimed it towards the wendigo. Squeezing the trigger, the bullet jumped out of the barrel and flew towards the dark form of the wendigo. The bullet connected with the wendigo's shoulder, waking it up and almost sending it flying off of the branch. It managed to grab ahold of the branch at the last moment and keep its spot, quickly moving its eyes down to look at Dean. Dean was about to fire another bullet at the wendigo, but it disappeared into the trees, leaving Dean alone.

"Damn it," Dean swore, shouldering the bag full of weapons and running after the wendigo. The wendigo was almost invisible in the dark treetops, but Dean was barely able to see its outline. Branches shook as the wendigo jumped from one to another, quickly puting distance between the two of them. Suddenly, the wendigo veered to the right, and Dean, who had not been able to stop in time, felt the ground beneath his feet disappear.

Dean's back painfully connected with the hard slope of the hill he had just ran off of. The breath escaped his lung and black dots formed in his eyes when his head hit the slope right after. He slide down the slope, and he despratly tried to grab something to stop himself, but there was nothing to grab. His legs hit the rocks on the bottom of the slope and they buckled, his knees hitting next and finally his head, the side of is head hitting a rock with such force that it knocked him unconcious.

vVvVvVvV

Dean felt something hard pressing against the side of his face and his whole body ached. Grunting, he painfully pulled himself up from the ground and the rocks he was laying on. God, that was not a good idea to pass out on those damned things. Dean wipped away the blood that ran down his forehead and touched the tender wound where it was coming from. He winced and let his hand fall back down to his side. Painfully turning, Dean looked for the bag that had fallen with him. He located the dark shadow and limped over to it, bending down to pick it up.

It was dark when Dean had woken up, and it pissed him off that he had spent a whole day sleeping on rocks. At least he knew what he was dealing with now. Looking up the slope that he had ungracefully fell off of, Dean determined that it was too steep to climb. Now he had to find another way to the road, and he had no idea where the hell he was.

"Just my freaking luck," Dean muttered, limping off of the rocks and onto flat ground. He was honestly surprised that there was nothing broken. Jumping off the rocks, Dean gathered wood for another fire as fast as he could and built one at the edge of the rocks. Once the fire was built, Dean unsheathed his knife and quickly carved Anasazi symbols in a circle around him and the fire.

Sitting close to the fire, Dean refused to sleep.

vVvVvVvV

Dean moved as soon as day broke. He made quick work of putting out the fire and earasing the symbols. He knew that he was safe in the day, but he wanted to get back to the Impala as fast as he could so he could come up with a game plan for getting rid of the wendigo. He sure as hell wasn't going to let it run free.

The walk through the woods wasn't as easy as Dean thought it would be. He still ached from the fall on the previous day, and that only made progress slower. Around noon, Dean had pulled out a bag of jerky and munched on the tough meat as he continued through the woods. It was a few hours after noon when he saw the house.

The first glimpse Dean got of the house was through the trees. He quietly moved to the edge of the trees, making sure to stay hidden within the shadows of the trees. Digging through his bag, Dean pulled out the pair of binoculars that he had packed on a whime, and looked through them at the house. He could see people moving around outside the house and a R.V. sitting by the fence with someone on top of it in a lawn chair and a rifle in their hands. Tents stood around the R.V. and Dean could see people moving in and out of them.

Finally deciding what to do, Dean lowered the binoculars and started to set up camp where he was at the edge of the woods and the field. Although he had decided not to go to camp for obvious reasons like they might shot him or he might put them in danger, he still wanted to protect them from at least the wendigo, and that meant putting the Anasazi symbols around the farm. There was no way he could do that now without possible getting shot, so he had to wait until it was dark, which also meant that he would have to waste a night that he could be using for hunting the wendigo.

As it slowly got darker, Dean continued to keep a close eye on the house. He waited until all the lights in the house, R.V., and tents were out, along with the fire. Dean did notice that there was still a person on the roof of the camper, but as long as he was careful the person wouldn't notice him. After hiding his duffle bag in a tree, Dean stayed low to the ground as he crept through the weeds towards the house.

The process of writing the symbols were surprisingly easy, Dean putting one every few feet in a circle around the house. Trying to go unseen, now that was a different story. The person on the camper almost saw him a few times, but luckily years of hunting made it possible for him to hid quickly and efficiantly. Once the symbols were all drawn, Dean snuck back to his camp and drew the same symbols around him, protecting himself.

Tomorrow night he would continue his hunt for the wendigo.

vVvVvVvV

It took Dean three nights to find the wendigo again. This time, instead of being in the tree tops, Dean found it crouched in the woods, leaning over something. By the smell of it, Dean knew exactly what it was eating. Not trusting getting this close to it without injuring it in some way, Dean raised his pistol and fired, hitting the wendigo square in the back. It shrieked and spun around towards Dean. It bared its teeth at him and turned, running away.

"Son of a bitch," Dean swore before giving chase to the wendigo, jumping over the pile of meat that had once been a human. Although he couldn't keep up with it, Dean made sure as hell that he kept it in his line of sight. Eventually, he followed the wendigo into a house in the middle of the woods. The wendigo broke the door down with its shoulder, not bothering to stop running. Dean fired the pistol again, and judging by the shriek, he had hit it. Running into the house, he found that he was right.

The wendigo had been standing by a wall when Dean shot it, splattering blood on it. Dean quickly dropped his bag and pulled out his lighter. Before he could even flip it open, though, the wendigo was in front of him. Dean felt a sharp pain in his chest as the wendigo hit him, sending him flying into a chair and knocked it over. Dean rolled over quickly and stood up, but the wendigo hit him again, knocking him into another piece of furniture. Dean looked up just in time to see the wendigo knock over some more furniture and ran out of the room.

Dean struggled to his feet and painfully followed it. The wendigo had trashed the other rooms, most likely hoping to slow Dean down. Dean had to give it to the monster, though, for being smart enough to do that. He heard the wendigo running above him and he ran up the stairs as quickly as he could. At the end of the hallway, he saw a door that sat wide open.

He slowly approached the door, the pistol raised in one hand and the canister of gas that he had grabbed from the bag before going into the house in the other. He also made sure that the box of matches were in his pocket. Making sure not to make any noise, Dean slowly made his way towards the door. Peeking in, he saw the wendigo standing in the middle of the room. It was facing away from the door, making it easy for Dean to take another shot at it. This time the bullet went through the neck, taking a rather large chunk out of it. The wendigo turned and launched itself at Dean, knocking them both down. Dean yelped in pain when his still hurt back hit a small table that was in the corner of the room. He felt it break beneath him and small pieces of wood stabbed him in the back.

Grinding his teeth together, Dean pushed the wendigo off of him with all his strength and sent it flying into the bookshelf. The wendigo hit the bookshelf hard and fell to the ground, the bookshelf crashing down on top of it. Dean took the moment to climb to his feet and open the canister of gas. As soon as the wendigo pushed the bookshelf off of itself, Dean dumped the gas on it. The wendigo reached out and grabbed Dean's ankle, throwing him over it. Dean landed on the bed and fell over the other side. Dropping the canister and pistol, Dean took the box of matches out of his pocket and grabbed one. He quickly began the attempt to light it.

"Come on," Dean muttered when the first match broke. He looked up as he pulled out another match and saw the wendigo was making its way towards him. Dean's heart lept when the match finally lit and just in time. The wendigo had moved close enough for Dean to throw the match onto it. The think shrieked as it went up in flames and stumbled away from Dean. Getting up, Dean did the first thing he thought of to stop the wendigo from getting away. He grabbed the mattresse and threw it on top of the wendigo, sending it to the ground. The mattresse moved a little, then stopped. Dean sighed and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He painfully bent down to grab the gas canister and pistol before carefully walking around the flaming wendigo and out of the room.

When he to the living room, Dean made sure the grab the duffle bag before leaving the house and dead wendigo in the house behind him.

xXxXxXxX

It's been a few days since the wendigo incedent and Dean had stayed around the farmhouse to make sure that everything was safe. He hadn't redone the symbols around the house, but Dean was pretty sure that they were still there. He still hurt all over and the had cuts on his back and arms, along with large wounds from the wendigo's claws across his chest that will most likely scar. He also had bruises covering his body, and they were sure as hell going to be there for awhile.

Dean was sitting at his camp far enough in the woods from the farmhouse that no one would see the fire he started. He had managed to catch a rabbit, which was the only living thing he's seen other than the people at the house since he killed the wendigo. There were also no Croats around yet, which made Dean on edge.

The rabbit was cooking over the fire when he heard it: The shriek of a wendigo. Dean froze, listening even closer. He heard nothing else, but was absolutly sure that was a wendigo. Dean jumped up, ignoring the pains that shot through his body, and quickly put the fire out. He grabbed all his things and ran towards where he heard the wendigo. Dean got barely three yards before he was the man running through the woods. Dean stopped and hid between the trees, watching as the man ran. Dean noticed that the man had a crossbow on his back and a pistol and knife at his hip, but he wasn't using any of them. The man's main objective was to get away from the wendigo, and Dean understood that.

Dean got snapped out of his thoughts as he watched the man run through the woods and into the field towards the house. Dean suddenly realized where he had seen the man: He was from the farmhouse. The wendigo jumped from the trees and into the grass, quickly catching up to the man. Dean ran fowards and into the field, raising his pistol and aiming it at the wendigo. He pulled the trigger and the bullet hit the wendigo just as it grabbed for the man. Dean sighed in relief as the man jumped the fence into safety, but watched carefully as the wendigo stalked on the other side of the fence, watching the man.

Now Dean had more problems that he really didn't need. Not only did he have another wendigo to take care of, this wendigo had a transfiction on the man it just tired to kill.

Just great.

Chapter 2, now done. I hope it was good and you all enjoyed it.