Chapter Three
It only took seconds for them to assemble the whole camp. Dean didn't think Sam had been deeply asleep, and Jerry, despite his snoring was up and ready within seconds.
"Where is it?" he demanded. "What's it look like?"
"We didn't get a good look," Dean said. "It's too fast."
"It seems to be circling the camp," Cas added, eyes constantly roving the dark woods. "I believe it's looking for an opening."
The moment he said that, another twig snapped and there was a rush in the underbrush as something tore toward them.
They all spun around so they were back to back, each facing a different side of the camp, but as soon as the initial rush had ceased, everything was deathly silent.
"Where is it?" Dean hissed. "Cas, you see it?"
"I—"
The angel was cut off with a horrifying scream that sounded very human. The hunters spun toward the sound.
"Help! Someone help me! Agghh!"
Dean glanced over at the others, saw Sam's jaw tighten as the younger hunter shook his head. "It's gotta be a wendigo."
"I can go check to make sure," Cas said and began to stride forward when Jerry shot out a hand.
"You crazy, son? That thing will tear you apart!"
"No, I'm—"
Dean cut Cas off with his own hand on his shoulder. "Just stay here, man. No one's leaving this camp with that thing out there."
Which meant they were going to have to wait for the fugly bastard to get bored of trying to lure them out there, which could take a while. Wendigos were infuriatingly calculating.
But this one appeared to be impatient because a few minutes later, it seemed to see that it's ruse wasn't going to work, so it started to think of better ways to get a quick meal.
It swept past the camp again, rustling through the trees. Everyone turned their heads up as they could hear the high branches moving.
"Oh crap," Dean muttered, holding his gun tighter.
Sam, he noticed, was carrying a flare gun, smart kid. That's how they had gotten a wendigo before. Fire was the only way you could kill them, but Dean didn't really want them all to be throwing fire around until they had pinned the SOB down tight.
"There!" Cas suddenly shouted as a pale, thin figure dropped into camp in a crouch of distorted limbs, and snarled like some oversized Gollum.
The four hunters leapt out of the way as the wendigo charged toward them, Dean and Jerry both fired off several rounds, all hitting their mark, but doing little to stop the onrush. The wendigo simply made another phlegmy roar and struck out with a long clawed hand, hitting Jerry in the chest and sending the older hunter flying into his tent, collapsing it with a tangled snap of tent poles.
Cas leapt forward then, angel blade in hand and stabbed the wendigo in the side. It didn't like that at all, and backhanded the angel. Cas tumbled, but rolled gracefully and came back up on his feet a few yards away, distracting the monster long enough to give Sam an opening.
"Watch out!" he shouted to the others as he aimed the flare gun and shot.
Unfortunately, the wendigo had anticipated the shot and leapt out of the way. The flare shot off into the woods and blew up in a bright red explosion.
"Dammit!" Sam shouted before the wendigo charged him with a snarl and reached down to snatch him up with one hand around his throat.
Dean was already on the run, heading toward the firepit where a long branch was sticking out for him to grab. He raised it in his hand, tip smoldering and slightly pointed, and didn't hesitate to leap forward and stab it into the wendigo's back.
The creature gave an unearthly scream. It dropped Sam and arched back as it caught fire in a burst of flames.
Cas rushed forward to haul Sam out of the way at the same time Jerry untangled himself from the tent and the four of them watched the wendigo meet its demise.
When it was nothing more than charred remains, Dean glanced toward Sam and cocked an eyebrow. The younger man was rubbing his throat where the creature's claws had grabbed him, and still trying to catch his breath, but he nodded that he was okay.
Cas stepped toward the charred pile of wendigo and retrieved his blade, shaking the ash off of the silver weapon.
Jerry wandered up, snorting in amusement. "Well, I guess that's that. Anyone gonna put out that fire in the woods?"
They kept watch through the rest of the night just in case, but nothing else came to bother them. In fact, by dawn, birds started signing again. Everyone seemed convinced that this was the only wendigo out there.
Everyone except Sam.
He watched as Jerry joked with Dean as they buried the remains of the body.
"You got balls, son," Jerry told him. "Attacking that thing with just a piece of firewood."
"Well, you use what you have at hand," Dean said, seeming to shrug off the praise.
"Spoken like a true hunter," Jerry clapped him on the back. "At least you didn't nearly burn the forest down."
Sam bristled. It hadn't been his fault the flare had gone awry, it was just an accident. Besides, with the wet forest, it had barely been smoldering by the time he and Cas had gone to put it out.
"Well, at least Sammy didn't try to get out of the fight by attacking the tent," Dean said. There was a smile on his face, but Sam could see the irritation in his eyes too. It was kind of annoying that Jerry, who professed that this was his hunt, was the one who had sat out the actual fight, even if it hadn't actually been his fault.
The hunter looked slightly miffed at first, then laughed it off, clapping Dean on the shoulder again. "Well, I guess that means I buy the drinks when we get back to town tonight."
"Are we headed out now?" Sam cut in, stepping forward to join in the conversation.
"After we look around for this thing's lair and see if there's any campers left, yeah," Jerry said. "You wanna stay out here another night? The thing's dead. Case closed."
"You're sure this is the only one?" Sam demanded. "You said it yourself, you thought there was more than one thing out here. That's why you called us in the first place."
"And it looks like I was wrong after all," Jerry shrugged. "Happens. Look, Sammy, if there were more than one, they would have attacked us together last night."
"It's Sam," the younger Winchester snapped. "And they might have left the others back at their lair. We could be walking into a trap unprepared."
Jerry snorted. "Kid, I've been hunting since you were in diapers. I think I know what I'm doing. And I definitely know when a hunt is over. It's a gut feeling."
"Yeah, well, I have a gut feeling that this isn't over," Sam said.
"Sam," Dean muttered with a sigh, grabbing his elbow and tugging him off to one side. "Go help Cas put the tent away."
Sam opened his mouth to retort, but just shook his head, shoving past Dean. It wasn't worth arguing about, obviously. No one was going to listen to him.
"Cas, do you think this was the only wendigo out here?" Sam asked the angel as they disassembled the tent.
Cas gave a weary sweep of the surrounding forest. "Well, the animals are talking again, they aren't hiding away, but that doesn't mean there aren't others in the lair like you said. I think this one had been following us all day yesterday."
Sam bit his lip, contemplating. "I just don't understand why they won't even consider the option."
Cas smiled slightly and reached out to touch Sam's shoulder. "Jerry is, as Dean would say, an ass. I wouldn't pay much attention to him. As for your brother, well, in my own experience older brothers can be very stubborn but if you talk to them they can also be inclined to listen. I am one of the younger angels, you know."
"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, interested to hear this information about their rather quiet friend.
Cas nodded. "Yes. I only gained my own flight to command a short time before I was sent to Hell to rescue your brother. Before then I was not always listened to, so I can understand what you're going through."
Sam offered a small smile back at the angel, and thought about it. He was right, after all, Sam knew that when it really came down to it, Dean would listen to him if he was sure enough. After all, he had before when they were doing research, had even defended his theory to Jerry. Maybe if Sam could coax him into believing him again, they could go in with a plan, instead of just looking for captive hikers running into a possible ambush. He just didn't want anyone to get hurt or worse on this hunt. It was always better to be safe than sorry.
"Thanks, Cas, I'll try to get him to see reason," Sam said and glanced over his shoulder at Dean who was gathering up some of the stuff that had been tossed around outside the camp when the wendigo had torn through. Sam took a deep breath and strode over to join his brother.
Dean glanced up at him and straightened, a bent tent pole in his hand. "We about packed up?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
"Good, I think I'm almost done picking up all the pieces here." Dean crouched back down to snag a tin cup.
Sam took a deep breath and said, "Dean I just have a feeling about this; that it's not over."
Dean turned around with an exasperated look. "Sammy, we killed the thing, okay? Our priority now is to find its lair to see if any of the hikers are still alive."
Sam shook his head, practically pleading with his brother to see sense. "And what if there is another wendigo waiting there? Or more than one? Dean, come on, look at this. How many people have gone missing? Over twenty now. In every hunt we've done involving a wendigo before, when have you seen one take more than five or six people per its eating cycle? Never."
"Sam," Dean said in a low voice, holding a hand out almost pleadingly. "Look, I know this one might have been a little weird, but think about it. Leshi was gorging too, the apocalypse has everything going guano. That's gotta be all this is."
"And if it's not?" Sam demanded.
Dean sighed heavily, spearing Sam with a firm gaze. "Sam, is this really about the fact that you're worried the hunt isn't over, or the fact that you were wrong?"
Sam's mouth fell open. "What the…why the hell would you think that?"
"Oh, I don't know, because you've been so bitchy on this whole hunt, practically shrugging off anyone who had a different opinion about it. But as much as it might hurt you to hear, you can't always be right! Sometimes you're wrong, genius!"
"I knew it," Sam said shaking his head. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
"That's not what I said," Dean retorted.
"Yeah, well, I know what you meant," Sam snapped. "Well, whatever, Dean. I don't care anymore. Let's go find the wendigo's lair."
He shoved past his brother back toward the camp and Cas stepped forward.
"Sam," the angel said softly, but Sam shrugged him off.
"Not now, Cas, please," he said.
Jerry was watching all of it with some amusement on his face that made Sam want to punch him, but he shrugged and clapped an unwanted hand onto Sam's shoulder as the younger hunter went to grab his gun.
"Buck up, kiddo. It just means that the hunt is closer to being over. Tell you what, why don't we partner up, so you can let your brother cool off for a while?"
Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean who was now angrily throwing stuff into his duffle bag. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go off with only Jerry for company, but at the same time…he didn't really want to be around Dean either. And even Cas would want to try and reason with him about his brother and Sam wasn't in the mood. He supposed if he had to work off some steam, he'd rather Jerry take the fallout than people he actually cared about.
"Fine," he said.
Jerry gave an odd smile that Sam might have paid more attention to if he hadn't been so distracted, and turned to Dean and Cas. "You two ready to head out? Figured we could cover more ground by splitting up. Sammy and I will take the west if you and Cas take the East."
Dean looked slightly surprised at the arrangement, but he tightened his jaw, and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Sure. Call if you find anything."
"Will do," Jerry said and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go."
Sam cast one look back at Dean, noticing his brother looking over his shoulder as well. For a brief moment their eyes met, then Dean's jaw twitched and he turned around. Sam clenched his own jaw and followed Jerry. He didn't care what his brother thought. Dean could come to his own conclusions, and hell, maybe Sam was wrong this time.
Even though he had been pretty damn sure about this one.
They trudged off into the woods in opposite directions. Sam thought Jerry seemed oddly upbeat, even whistling as they walked. It was starting to get annoying, and Sam wondered if he was always this chipper after a hunt. Not that the older man had really done anything on this one.
"You know, kid, don't beat yourself up about it so much. We're all wrong sometimes."
Sam hitched his duffle higher on his shoulder, not replying.
"Your daddy was, on more than one occasion." Jerry went on with a slight chuckle. "And boy, did John hate it when he was wrong. You know, I can see a lot of him in you, Sam."
Sam twisted his mouth wryly. "Yeah, you're not the first one to say that."
"But there was one thing I always admired about John and that was that he got the job done. No matter what." Jerry's voice seemed to harden then, and Sam glanced over at him, startled to see an almost dark gleam in the hunter's eye. A complete change from the whistling man earlier. He glanced sideways at Sam then, turning that cold gaze fully onto the young man. "Kinda makes me wonder if the whole thing with the apocalypse would have happened if he were still alive."
Sam blanched, startled. "How do you know about that?"
Jerry snorted. "Give me some credit, kid. Hunters talk. And right now, the favorite topic is a funny story of how Sam Winchester started the actual, biblical apocalypse. Most recently I heard from a friend of mine. You know Reggie and Tim? They told me an even funnier story about you."
Sam swallowed hard, coming to a full stop. Yeah, he knew them. They had tried to force demon blood down his throat to make him into some kind of weapon after their buddy had gotten killed by demons. That had been one of the reasons he had given up on trying to get out of the life. He knew other hunters would find him anyway, so he may as well be ready for it.
Admittedly, he hadn't been ready for this.
"What are you getting at, Jerry?" Sam demanded, getting ready for any kind of attack that might come.
"I heard about your powers, Sam," Jerry said. "Demon blood?"
"I don't drink it anymore," Sam insisted, voice trembling in anger. "I gave that up."
"And yet addiction is never really something you get over," Jerry said. "You know, I heard the stories Gordon Walker told about you too, back in the day—before you and your brother got him killed. I didn't really believe him back then, he was always kinda off his rocker, and I never would have thought that one of John Winchester's kids could be a monster like that. Thought that John surely would have taken steps to prevent that from happening."
Sam glowered at the hunter as Jerry simply shrugged.
"But I guess that Gordon, crazy as he was, was right after all. You really are a monster."
"So what are you gonna do about it?" Sam demanded, throwing his arms wide. "Kill me?"
Jerry gave a lazy shrug. "Well, son, you gotta understand. Times are tough, it's the damn biblical apocalypse! And I gotta say, someone like you, no matter how good your intensions might be now, you can't obviously expect me to believe they're gonna stay that way. Not when it really comes down to it."
"Oh yeah? Well, screw you," Sam snapped and rushed forward, plowing into Jerry before he tore off through the woods.
But the hunter had obviously been anticipating that and managed to snag his duffle bag as he dashed by, bringing Sam up short. He shrugged out of the bag, and swung around to deliver a punch to Jerry's face, feeling triumphant when it landed. If Jerry thought he was going to go down without a fight, he was wrong.
Jerry grunted and returned the punch. Sam dodged the first one, but didn't manage to stop the kick to his knee. He cried out and collapsed, but used his momentum to surge forward and tackle the older man to the ground.
Jerry fell with a grunt and Sam wasted no time straddling him and leveling punches at his face. Only the first few landed before Jerry grabbed his wrists and the fistfight turned into a power struggle. Jerry might have been several inches shorter than Sam, but he was heavier and he easily flipped Sam onto his back, slamming his head several times against the ground so hard he saw stars.
Sam felt the man's weight leave him as he fought to get off the ground, his head swimming, trying to fight against the black dots swarming his eyes. He heard a familiar, mechanical click and when his vision cleared again, he found himself looking up at Jerry holding a gun on him.
Sam shook his head, opening his hands. "Please, don't."
"Sorry, kid, but I think this is necessary for all of us," he said.
And then he pulled the trigger.
Yes, I know, another cliffhanger, sorry! :P
