"Now we just have to find that son of a bitch." Dean unloaded plastic bags on his bed.
"I'm way ahead of you." Sam gestured towards the map on the wall. "Red are the current victims. Green and black are the ones from the previous cycles. Every cycle takes place in a different quarter."
Dean stepped closer and tapped on the map. "What's in the center?"
"An old pumping station. Abandoned since the thirties."
"Sweet." He turned away and dug into the bags and spread some items on the bed.
"Dude, you are way to happy about this." Sam frowned but joined his brother who started putting things together.
"Hey, you were the one bitching about how long this all takes." He waved in Victor's direction with something in his hand that looked a lot like a little propane gas bottle. "So let's just use the few hours of sunlight we have, toast this sucker and head outa here. Do we still have those flare guns?"
"In the trunk." Sam clicked two pieces together.
"What are you doing?" Victor asked. The few information they just shared didn't make any sense to him though the Winchesters acted like they had a full battle plan on hand.
"Building flamethrowers." Dean held his one up with a huge grin on his face.
"You have pyromaniac tendencies, you know that, right?" Sam glared at him but couldn't hide a smile.
Victor's chest tightened. They were about to go out there and kill that somebody they thought was a monster. And they wouldn't just shoot him. No, they would torch him with homemade flamethrowers. Even Sam seemed totally fine with that. Icy sweat covered Victor's back. He had to do something.
"What the hell is a Wendigo?" He finally managed to ask. After a second of hesitation Sam told him about eating human flesh turning you into a monster. He looked damn serious.
"You know what I don't get?" Dean asked after his brother finished his explanation. "That one in Black Water Ridge was far of the road. But here? You can't get much farther from traditional Wendigo territory. Plus we are in a freaking town."
"Animals do that all the time. Find their way into new living environments. There live more racoons in cities nowadays than out in the woods." Sam finished his flamethrower and stuffed the pieces they didn't use back in one bag. "Hell, I'm waiting for the day we face an Okami in the US."
Dean cocked his head clearly thinking about it. "We don't have bamboo daggers in the arsenal."
Sam's jaw dropped.
"What? I know what an Okami is."
"How do you know about a monster that only lives in Japan?" Sam stopped and than added. "Besides Godzilla."
"Well, there was this Japanese exchange student ..." Dean started but was interrupted by Sam.
"Dude, I don't wanna know." He hold his hands up in surrender.
Victor couldn't help it, he threw his head back and laughed. To him it sounded a little bit hysterical, but he just couldn't stop. Both Winchesters watched him carefully.
"Great, now we freaked him really out." Dean muttered.
"No, it's just ..." He wished he had a hand free to wipe the tears of his eyes. And he wished he knew what to do.
"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed.
"You can't just go out there and kill somebody." Victor said. He had to try although he was pretty sure they would do it anyway.
"It's not a somebody."
Before they left to toast that son of a bitch – Dean's words – Sam gagged Victor once again and checked the ropes a last time while Dean painted symbols at the door and under every window.
"Just in case." He said but didn't further explain it.
"If we don't come back the maid will find you in the morning." Sam patted Victor's arm and than they left.
Victor stared at the door and listened to the rumbling engine until the sound disappeared in the distance.
He was alone. It took a minute to sink in. For the first time since the Winchesters had napped him he was alone. While they were out there to kill somebody.
That thought got him moving. He had to get free. But all shifting and struggling was useless. Sam knew how to restrain somebody, Victor had to admit. The ropes didn't give in a bit. They got even tighter from his attempts. Before he would cut of the circulation in his hands Victor stopped.
He screamed but all he managed through the gag were muffled noises nobody outside the room would hear.
Panting and covered in sweat he just sat there. Defeated. Long shadows covered the wall, the light turned into golden red. Victor figured he had half an hour before sunset. And then it would get dark. Tied to a chair was bad. Tied to a chair in the dark was worse.
Part of him wished the Winchesters would come back. They had left most of their stuff in the room so they wouldn't just take off after they did what they thought they had to do.
If we don't come back the maid will find you in the morning. He could hear Sam's voice as clear as if he stood right next to him. He hadn't really been paying attention but now he thought about his words. What they implied. And it sent shivers down his spine.
He had to get free. Victor looked around to find anything to help him out of this situation. They had left the weapons bag behind. You don't need guns when you want to toast that sucker, Victor thought. Another hysterical giggle crawled up his throat. For long moments he choked on the gag sure he would just die of suffocation before he got his breathing under control.
The bag. None of the guns in there were loaded and there was no ammo for them Victor had noticed while he had watched Dean cleaning them. However there was still the knife. The knife Dean had just recently sharpened. Victor only had to get it. Yeah, as if it was that easy.
Another laughter tickled his throat. Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Experimentally he rocked the chair. This could work. He rocked harder and the chair moved half an inch. Maybe less. But it moved and that was all that matters. Behind the gag Victor grinned.
It was dark before Victor even got close to the bag. Through the curtains light from the parking lot illuminated the room a bit. Not much but Victor could still make out the shape of the bag. The zipper even shimmered as if it wanted to mock him. Victor grit his teeth and rocked forwards.
Once or twice he gathered to much of a momentum and nearly fell but so far he got lucky. Eventually he had to fall. He wasn't looking forwards to that but he would think about it when he reached the fucking bag.
Victor had no idea what time it was. The Winchesters were gone for hours that was for sure. Dean had said something about using sunlight as if he didn't want to face the thing in the dark.
Victor froze in mid-motion. He had thought of it as a thing and not a person.
If we don't come back … Victor choked. Were they dead? A few days ago it would have been good news. Winchesters dead, hurray. One point for the good guys. But now he was kinda worried. He didn't like the idea of them being hurt or even dead. Not that he wanted them to come back right now, but still. Maybe he had developed Stockholm syndrome after all.
Victor shook his head. First he had to get free. Everything else he could figure out afterwards.
He looked down at the bag. Close enough.
Tilting from one side to the other he finally crashed to the floor. Hit his head pretty bad. For a few seconds his vision dimmed and he blinked away the tears. He tested the ropes. It would be hilarious to find the chair broken. Pure irony. But the ropes hadn't become slack.
It took him a couple of minutes to get his hand near the zipper. He thanked god as he felt the metal beneath his fingers.
To open the bag and finally get the knife out was another story. Victor had completely lost track of time. The Winchesters could come back any minute. If the came back at all.
Victor hissed in pain. The knife was sharp. Once he got the right angle it went through the ropes like a hot knife through butter. And it didn't stop at his skin. He couldn't see how deep the cut was but it was bleeding.
He got one hand free and shortly after that the other. Next thing was the gag. Victor swallowed a few times to get rid of the taste.
A rope around his chest and one at each ankle. Piece of cake. He would be out of this damn chair in a second. He had just to be careful not to cut himself again. His own blood made the knife slippery. Victor tightened his grip and started working on the rope around his chest.
Outside a rumbling car engine was cut off.