Whoah, it's been awhile everyone. I'm sorry for the delayed update. The last couple weeks have been kind of busy with finals and new classes and shit like that. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I own neither Supernatural nor The Walking Dead.

Chapter 4

It's been a week since Dean saved the man the first time. He assumed that after he made the wendigo lose its prey, then it would leave, but he was wrong. Seeing the wendigo back at the fence the next night was one of the most surprising things that Dean has ever witnessed, and he's seen some crazy shit. He had waited another few days to see if the wendigo would leave, but it never did. The man he saved even came out and watched the wendigo from the safe side of the fence every night.

On the fifth night, Dean had snuck up on the wendigo before the man was scheduled to show up. When the wendigo had noticed him, it had run, not giving Dean any chance to act. Pissed off, Dean went back to his camp that was just inside the woods, only to look back to see the wendigo was back at the fence. Since then, he had tried to kill it a few more times, but it always ran. For some reason, the wendigo had some sort of fixation with the man it had tried to eat, and that was dangerous.

Dean had watched the house closely and had learned that the people at the house were looking for a little girl named Sohpia. Had followed some of the people when they left a few times, he had learned all he needed: the exact number of people at the house, their names, and that he did not like the guy named Shane at all.

Today he was following someone named Rick and the dick Shane. Both armed with a rifle, it was obvious to Dean that they knew how to use them. Judging by their lack of skills when it comes to watching their enivornment, though, told him that they weren't hunters, nor were they used to being out in the woods. If they had been, they would have noticed Dean following close behind. He was currently listening closely to their conversation.

"Do ya think Carl will get better soon?" Shane was asking Rick. Carl. Dean had learned that that was the name of Rick's son, who had somehow been shot.

"Of course he will. We both know that he's a stubborn boy," Rick replied. "He won't let a gunshot take him, and neither will I."

"Well, I gotta agree with you. He's stubborn, just like his old man," Shane said, slapping Rick on the back and both men laughed. Dean could only scowl at the gesture that Shane made. Rick may not be able to tell when someone was lying, but he sure as hell could.

Letting himself get distracted never ended well, and it was no different this time. A tree branch snapped under Dean's foot and both men he was following tensed up. Dean swore at himself in his mind and ducked behind a tree just as the men turned, their guns raised and pointed in his direction. Dean held his breath and hoped that they would brush the noise off, but they didn't.

"Who's there?" Rick called. Dean swore at himself again, but made no indication of moving.

"Do you think it was a walker?" Shane asked quietly.

"If it was it would have come at us already. I think it's something else," Rick replied.

"Well, the only make sure way to find out what it is is to shoot," Shane said and Dean felt his blood run cold. He heard Rick begin to say something, but it got drowned out when a shot was fired. It hit the side of the tree and took bark with it, but Dean didn't move. Shane fired again, this bullet closer to him, but he still didn't move. After a few moments of silence, Shane said, "I guess it was nothing. Come on, let's get going."

Dean waited a few moments to make sure that they were gone before ducking back out from behind the tree. Something grazed his cheek and Dean yelped in surprise. Another bullet was fired and pain erupted from his leg. He collapsed to the ground, but struggled to get back up instantly, only the recieve a swift kick in the stomach that sent him flying onto his side. The sound of a gun firing again met his ears and Dean felt the tell tale feeling of a bullet digging its way into his side. Grinding his teeth together and squeezing his eyes tight, he willed himself not to cry out. He's had worse.

"Why the hell were you following us?" the person who shot him demanded and Dean opened his eyes to see Shane towering over him, his rifle pointed down at his head. Yup, it was official. Dean fucking hated this guy. Refusing the answer the dick's question earned him a kick to the skull, which dazed him. "Answer me!"

"Shane, stop it. You already shot the man, you don't need to kick him too," Rick said and Dean turned his eyes to him. The man seemed to freeze in surprise when he was his eyes.

"This ain't no time for your justice, Rick. This piece of shit was following us and I want to know why. He might even know where Sophia is," Shane scowled and knelt down next to Dean. He grabbed a fistfull of Dean's hair and forced his head up so he was looking at him again. "So, are you going to tell us or not? I could always use a punching bag."

Anger coursed through Dean as he glared at the man holding his hair. Having dealt with this situation before, almost on a regular basis, Dean was used to it but it didn't mean that he liked it. Being subdued wasn't his style, unless it was in bed and done by some busty beauty who usually came from a bar, not it the woods and diffinently not by some fugly dude who smelt worse than he did when he climbed out of hell. Dean moved his hand slightly, testing to see if either man noticed, which they didn't. Slowly inching his hand to his belt, he searched for his knife. He eventually found it, but the sound it made when Dean was pulling it from its sheath made Shane looking down at it. Dean saw rage fire in his eyes and he stood again. Bringing his foot back, he kicked Dean hard in his stomach, sending him flying back into a tree and the knife skidding out of his hand and into the woods somewhere. The breath got knocked out of Dean's lungs when his back connected painfully with the tree and he fell to his hands and knees, struggling to catch his breath.

"That wasn't a very smart move there, buddy," Shane said, walking back over to Dean and slapped his foot hard onto his back, sending him back to the ground.

"Shane, enough," Rick said, and Dean turned his head slightly to look up to see that the other man had grabbed Shane's arm to stop him. "You've done enough to him. Look. we'll take him back to the farm with us and then we can decide what to do then."

"You really think that I'm going to let some guy who was following up back at camp with us and be around our people, around Lori and Carl?" Shane countered with. Dean quickly ignored their arguing and used the opportunity to grab the demon killing knife that was strapped to his belt. Luckly he hadn't been noticed yet and he used that to is advantage. Ignoring the pain that shot through him as he moved, Dean lunged off the ground and towards Shane, digging the knife deep into the man's upper thigh. Shane let out a painful yell and stumbled away from Dean. Yanking the knife back, Dean struggled to his feet and turned away from the distracted and surprised men. He ran as fast as he could into the woods, disappearing from sight. Thankfully no one followed him and he could stop running and give his throbbing leg a rest.

Finding an area with no walkers or people was a pretty easy task. Find something to sit on while he tended to his wounds, now that was a different struggle altogether. After a while of searching, Dean finally found a rock that would work for his needs. He shrugged off his jacket, earning a shot of pain to flow through his body before sat down. He also took off the black shirt he had under the jacket. With a lack of supplies, Dean was limited to what he could do for the wounds. Tearing off a length of fabric from the shirt, Dean tied it around the wound on his shoulder as best he could. He used another piece of fabric that he tore away for the gunshot on his thigh, tying the makeshift bandage around over his pants. Next he checked his bruises. The skin on his stomach and sides were already turning an ugly purple color and he could only assume that his ribs were probably bruised also. He didn't even want to look at his face. Dean sighed and leaned back on the rock. God, what he wouldn't give for Cas and his angle mojo. Sadness washed through his body at the thought of his lost friend and Dean squeezed his eyes shut to push the feeling away. There was no time to think like that.

Slowly getting up, Dean put on the remains of his shirt and jacket slowly. Surveying his surroundings, Dean's heart sank when he realized that he had no idea where the hell he was. Looks like he could only walk and hope he gets back to the house.

xXxXxXxX

By some miracle, Dean had found his camp again. It was dark by the time he saw the lights coming from the house. It wasn't long before he found his camp from there. Lighting a small fire behind the pile of rocks he set up to hide the flames, Dean grabbed the pack where he kept his first-aid things and went back to the fire for warmth. Wincing in pain, Dean pulled his shirt off again and untied the makeshift bandage. Thankkfully it had stopped bleeding by now and Dean carefully washed the blood away. The disinfecting it hurt the most, but Dean managed to get through the pain and tied actual bandages around the wound. Next was the gunshot wound on his thigh. Standing up, he slowly shimmed out of his pants and threw them to the ground next to him.

The wound on his leg was still bleeding slightly, and he wipped the blood away. After mending that wound, he slowly got to his feet and went to find clothes that weren't blood stained. Finding a pair of gray sweatpants that looked fresh enough to wear, Dean went back out by the fire to enjoy it a little more before he went back to bed. Grabbing a pistol from the bag he always kept close to him, Dean began his nightly checking and cleaning of the guns. Now that it was just him, the guns took longer to get through and he couldn't get through them all in one night, so he split them up and cleaned certain guns on certain nights.

He was halfway through the fourth gun when the fire became to small and dim to see anything. Quickly putting the gun back together from memory due to doing the same thing since he was eight, Dean packed all the guns back in the bag and kicked dirt into the embers of the fire before heading to the tent, carrying the bag of guns with him. He lay down on the sleeping bag in the tent, the guns right next to him and the demon killing knife and pistol under the pillow. Wrapping one hand around pistol, Dean fell asleep.

xXxXxXxX

One second they were standing in the police station, doing their usual FBI gig, trying to get info on the case that they were currently working on, and the next second a man covered in blood stumbled through the doors, holding his neck and screaming bloody murder. Sam and Dean were the ones who moved first, acting on the instinct that always kicked in when they saw someone covered in blood, thanks to the years of hunting. Sam stood in front of the shaking man, putting both hands on his shoulders to keep him still and make him look at him.

"Sir, can you tell us what happened?" Sam said, staring at the man's face. The man finally looked up at Sam and Dean saw the terrified look in his eyes. As soon as the man's eyes met Sam's, he started screaming again and tried to push him away, but Sam held strong. "Calm down, everything's okay. You're fine. Now tell us what happened, we can help."

Before the man could answer though, the door was thrown open again and another person stumbled in. Her hair was a rat's nest, dirty blonde locks knotted and sticking up in every direction. Her shirt and jeans were even more blood stained than the man's and angry wounds decorated her arms and shoulders, making it look like something, or someone, had bitten large chunks out of her. The woman's mouth was covered with blood and she reached her dirty hands towards the man, yanking him out of a surprised Sam's hands, and latched her teeth on his neck again. Pulling her head away, stings of muscles ripped as she took a chunk of neck out of the man, who then fell to the floor, no longer screaming nor moving. The woman looked from the dead man on the floor and to Sam before stumbling over the body and towards him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, reaching for his gun and firing at the woman before she could get any closer to his little brother. The bullet hit the woman in the shoulder and sent her stumbling back a little, but she recovered like she didn't even feel it and started towards Sam again. Dean fired again, this time hitting the woman in the chest, but it didn't do anything either. She just kept coming for Sam. Finally, Dean aimed for the head and squeezed the trigger. The bullet made impact in the center of the woman's forehead and she fell backwards onto the ground, not moving this time.

"Dean, what the hell was that?" Sam finally said, staring at the two dead bodies that were in front of him.

"I have no idea, Sammy," Dean breathed, feeling relief flood through him when he knew that his brother was safe again. Then there was the screams. Dean's feet moved before his mind realized it and he pushed the doors of the police station open. He froze as he stared at the absolute chaos that were the streets of the once peaceful town.

"Dean, what's happening?" Sam said, coming to stand out next to Dean and stared at the scene in front of him.

"I have no fucking idea," Dean replied. Someone that resembled the crazy chick in the police station noticed the brothers and began its stumbles towards them.

Dean raised his gun and fired.

xXxXxXxX

He was woken by a noise outside the tent. Breathing hard, Dean stayed still and listened. Voices could be heard outside the tent and that was when he realized that someone has found his tent. Freezing, Dean stayed still as he heard the sound of his tent flap being unzipped. His hand tightened around the knife below his pillow, ready for someone to attack him.

"Looks like I found the person. It's a dude," the person who opened the tent called out, most likely to his friends. Thankfully Dean could tell by the voice that this wasn't someone from the farm, so he wouldn't feel bad about attacking them.

"Well, fucking kill him then. Just don't shoot, we don't want to alert anything," another man said from outside the tent. Dean heard the man inside huff and slowly move towards him. As soon as he was close enough, Dean acted.

Springing up and ignoring the pain that shot through his body, Dean plunged the knife into the chest of the man who was leaning over him. Dean met the man's wide eyes, but he simply twisted the knife. The man went still and Dean pulled the knife out, letting the man slump to the ground. Quietly getting to his feet, Dean cautiously walked to the open flap of the tent and peaked out. Two other men were rummaging through his things that were outside the tent, throwing things around that they didn't need. Slipping out of the tent silently, he made his way to the closest man. Moving like a snake, Dean wrapped his arm around the man's head and yanked it back, exposing his neck. The man started a yelp in surprise, but it was cut of when Dean ran his knife over the man's neck. The noise, unfortunantly, alerted the last man and he spun to look at Dean. He raised his gun.

"Bad move, bud," the man said, and Dean saw his finger tighten around the trigger. Dean was ready to moved when needed, but that never came.

Something dropped from the trees and onto the man, knocking him the the ground. The man screamed as the thing ripped into his back. Dean could only watch in a mixture of surprise and awe as the wendigo tore into the man. Once the man was still, the wendigo stood up and looked at Dean, the shadows almost hiding it. Dean tensed, waiting for the wendigo to come at him, but it never did. It just watched him before it climbed back back up the tree and disappeared into the tree tops. Dean could only watch in surprise at where the wendigo was just standing.

What the hell happened?

xXxXxXxX

Dean had seen the man when he was climbing up the side of the hill. He was covered in dirt, blood, and water. Even through all of the grime, Dean recognized the man from the farm, more specifically as the man that the wendigo wanted. He stopped his walk and watched the man climb. He could hear the man talking to something, and Dean prayed that the man hadn't gone crazy. When the man finally got to the top of the hill, he began limping through the trees. Dean followed closely behind, ready to help the man if he needed. As it turned out, he did. When the man stopped to lean against a tree, Dean saw him begin to sway and he finally moved forwards to help. He wrapped one arm around the man's waist to keep him from face planting into the ground. The man froze for only a moment before trying to get away from him, but he was too weak.

"Woah, hold your horsed cowboy," Dean said. He gently lowered the man to the ground before sitting down across from him. He reajusted his flannel and Sam's shirt that he had found in his bag to hide the guns and knives that he had strapped to his waist.

"Who the hell are you?" the man said, his thick southern accent making him sound like the normal redneck. Dean had to bite the inside of his check to stop from smiling.

"It doesn't matter. I just happened to be walking by and saw that you needed help," Dean said. "Catch your breath and I'll help you back to your camp."

The man visibly tensed and he glared at Dean suspiciously. "How do you know I have a camp? Have you been watching me?"

Excused instantly began to run in Dean's head and he laughed to buy some time to come up with some excuse. "No, I haven't, but you must have a camp somewhere because you have nothing on you, no backpack or food."

The man looked frustrated. "Well, I don't need ya fuckin' help."

Dean watched as the man tried to get to his feet, but saw him almost fall over again. Jumping to his feet, Dean wrapped his arms around the man again to keep him from falling. The man seemed to think for a moment before finally coming up with a decision, which he didn't look very happy about.

"Fine, I'll let ya help me, but we need ta get a few things set first," the man said angrily, and Dean nodded. "First, ya don't touch me unless I tell ya. Second, you leave me when I tell ya ta. Got it?"

"Yup," Dean said and flashed the man a brisk grin.

xXxXxXxX

Dean heard the gunshot as soon as he turned around. His heart jumped into his throat and Dean spun around and ran back to the edge of the forest. He saw the two men that he met in the woods help man to his feet, who looked unconcious. There was nothing for him to do but watch as the men drug the unconcious man back towards the farm.