A/n: Wow I'm just super shocked still by how many of you are following this story. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post, but here it is! Thank you all so much!

Warning there is some bad language in this chapter.

Thank you so much to anyone who reads, follows, reviews, and/or favorites. Thank you to Guest and DearHart for your reviews as well as miXiZ and LilyBolt for their reviews and constant support and friendship.

Ch 3

"Sam answer the damn phone," Dean didn't bother to hide the anger in his voice as he left yet another message for his brother. "I swear, if you took off after this thing alone..." he paused. "Call me." The older brother ended the call and crammed his phone in his pocket as he approached the Impala. Time was important when it came to hunting a Wendigo, and Dean had already wasted more than he had wanted to. He quickly climbed into the car, revved her to life, and tore out of the motel.

The older Winchester arrived at the State Park about twenty minutes later. It looked like a lot of ground to cover and around eight hours or so of daylight to do it. The Wendigo was a good hunter during the day, but a damn perfect one at night and Dean wasn't interested in having to deal with it when it was at it's best.

He swung the Impala into a parking spot and went to pull the supplies he was going to need to take the monster down. He rooted through the trunk, trying to be as inconspicuous with all the weapons as he tossed them around, his eyes scanning every item as he did. When Dean still didn't find it, he checked again a bit faster this time round. He knew he had the homemade blow torch in here before they left, he had made sure of it. Fire was the only thing that could take the beast down. He went through it one last time, just to be thorough. When he came up empty, he snatched up a flashlight and his handgun, then slammed the trunk closed and marched off towards the park, stuffing his gun into the waistband of his jeans. Gunshots may be useless against the thing, but at least it was something and he didn't feel completely defenseless.

After Dean paid to enter the park's forest and purchased a ridiculously expensive bottle of water, he started off at a power walk down the main trail. Wendigos were smart, they would set up camp far from where people were and it would be someplace hidden, and of course, somewhere dark. As he made his way down the path, he kept a hawk eye out for any sign of his brother. Sam wasn't exactly hard to spot, a 6'4 well built man with hair that fell to just an inch or two from his shoulders wasn't what Dean believed to be common. An hour in, he had already passed up multiple couples, a good sum of groups, countless single walkers, and a few families. If only those parents knew what loitered in these woods. If only any of them did.

The park was beautiful, but Dean was not Sam. All forests looked the same to him for the most part. A tree was a tree, plants were plants, rocks and creeks were rocks and creeks, and grass and dirt were just that, grass and dirt. Sam however would say otherwise. The soil was unique, the air felt and smelt different, the foliage was native, and even the creeks and rocks had their own origin story if you asked the younger Winchester. Sam enjoyed nature, starting at a young age he would take time to appreciate it or sneak in things like unique rocks and leaves into the motels. As he grew older and was introduced into hunting, Sam preferred to find more natural remedies in dealing with the supernatural. He took more to the herbs and spices then the actual man made weapons such as guns and knives. Dean on the other hand didn't have time to waste standing around hugging trees and if he could solve a problem using some kind of weapon, he was content. Temporary solutions were nice in a pinch, but permanent ones were much more preferred. To the older brother, nature was a place numerous monsters called home. A war zone. While a younger Sam had been picking up rocks and smelling flowers, Dean had been standing right beside him, all senses on high alert like a mother deer. Things hadn't changed much in that way. However, despite Dean's dislike for being in nature, there was one activity he did enjoy. When Sam was in grade school, he learned about stars and instantly fell in love and awe of them. The way something so small could shine so bright and help to light up the sky filled him with delight. In fact, the whole solar system did, but he was especially keen on stars. After a considerable amount of begging, yanking on his big brother's arm,and putting his puppy dog eyes into effect, Sam had convinced Dean to go out and look at the stars with him. The at the time eleven year old had sighed, rolled his eyes, and huffed a "fine" allowing his ecstatic little brother to drag him out of Bobby' s house and into the backyard. Dean had sat with his arms crossed as Sam had pointed at the different constellations, excitedly rattling off what they were and their origins. Upon watching Sam's eyes lit up with each one he mentioned and the smile that never fell from his face, he had unraveled his limbs and found a smile tugging at his own lips. It became a slightly regular thing for the brothers. Dean would sit and bounce between looking up at the sky and looking over at an always eager Sam who still seemed to come up with new information about them. He would pretend to be interested just so that he could witness his little brother's smile and passionate voice. What did he care what the stars' names were? But if it mattered to Sammy, then it mattered to him.

Dean shook his head as if to clear it. As much as he longed for those moments, he had more pressing things to think about.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket. No service.

"Awesome," Dean mumbled under his breath and returned it to his jacket. Just another reason he hated nature, shitty reception. He cast his gaze from left to right and on the occasional person he passed, wiping away sweat that had started to roll from his hairline down his face as he went. Dean had finished up the rest of his water some feet back, cussing at himself for not having purchased at least two and judging by the grumble in his stomach, maybe a snack bar or something would have been good as well. Frustration started to edge into Dean. He didn't even know where to look. All he knew was that he wasn't going to find it walking on the main path. Once there were no witnesses, Dean took off to the right, stomping through the foliage. He continued on straight for awhile then turned left and stayed straight again. The older Winchester looked up at the sun occasionally, using it as a means to decipher the time. Every once in awhile he would pull out his phone to see if he had a signal or to get a more accurate time. Now that he was more or less alone, the sounds of the different birds and insects that buzzed merrily by his ear seemed heightened. Even the sound of his own footfall as twigs and dirt crunched under his boot. Dean began to pant and his pace slowed down more and more with every step until he came to a full stop. He wiped his hand across his face again, breath heavy, and his eyes drooping. He sighed and allowed his body to fall against a nearby tree closing his eyes and licking his lips, trying to get his breathing back to a steady rhythm. The sound of a bird letting out a shrill sound caused Dean to open his eyes. He looked over to right and tilted his head. Pushing himself slowly off the tree he had been leaning on, he walked over to another one, his gaze falling on a spot that was only a few inches above his eye level. The bark of the tree had been scratched out creating a smooth canvas and a shallow X was etched on the surface. It was definitely man made, no animal he knew would scratch off the bark like that. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the grooves and dents, tracing the shape. It had been created with a knife, more than likely, a simple butterfly knife. Dean's heart began to race as he remembered when their father had sent him and Sam on a survival trip in the woods.

He had been spinning circles cussing and kicking at anything his foot could reach.

"I fucking HATE this place!" A teenage Dean shouted, aiming his foot at a bunch of rocks.

"Stop acting like a two year old and just relax. We'll find our way back," Sam had said in a stern voice, his gaze had been on his older brother.

"I can't believe this shit!" The older teen had hollered. "He knows how much I hate nature."

"Yeah well," Sam had huffed and pulled out his pocket knife "that's part of the job," he had responded flatly. Sam had ran the blade over the bark of the nearest tree, making himself a smooth spot and then dug the blade into the trunk and slid the knife down. He repeated the same movement in the same direction a few times before mimicking the motion so that it created an X.

"What are you doing?" Dean had asked looking over his brother's shoulder at his work.

"Marking. That way we know where we've been," Sam had answered moving on to another tree and replicating the last.

"Dude that's going to take forever," Dean had complained following his little brother.

"Maybe," Sam had said finishing up his second tree and had turned to face Dean "but it sure as Hell beats running around in circles."

A grin spread across Dean's face. "Thank God Sammy's a walking brain," he said out loud. There was still the possibility of course that this wasn't Sam's handy work, but Dean had a strong feeling these marks were in his favor. His breath had returned to normal and new strength filled the older brother as he allowed his eyes and the scratched up trees to be his guide.

A/n: I hope this chapter was alright, I spent a good few days writing and rewriting this. I know it was a bit slow, but I promise you, things are about to speed up and get a bit intense.

Thank you for reading!