If you've never heard of a Wendigo, consider yourself lucky. North American Indians tell the story of a zombie-like creature that feeds on human flesh and flies through the frigid winter nights. If you've never heard of a human that's been possessed by a Wendigo, consider yourself even luckier.
When Sam came home that day, he found both his brother and his father sitting in front of the television, completely enraptured with what they were seeing. Sam instinctively knew that it was not a good sign.
"What's going on?"
Dean slowly turned to face him, only now realizing that Sam was back. "Sammy," he said with wide eyes. "You gotta see this."
The news cameras were jogging up to a police car, zooming into the window and adjusting the focus until a deeply lined face with pitch-black hair came into view. He stared stonily ahead, oblivious to the cameras and reporters around the squad car. Hands reached into the car and led him out, revealing a bright orange jumpsuit and hands and legs encased in iron. Several cops stood guard, outfitted in bulletproof vests with shotguns at the ready. The man was being led to dark van with tinted windows. The cameras rushed in, jostling each other to get a close-up of the man.
"Why are we watching this?" Sam asked.
"Dude went completely psycho. Hacked up a bunch of people with a Rambo knife and then ate them. Some of them were his own family," Dean informed.
Sam shrugged. "So why do you guys care?"
John's low voice finally broke in. "He says there's a Wendigo inside of him."
Sam frowned. "You think it's real?"
John was still studying the television intently. "He comes from a tribe that was apparently haunted by a Wendigo back in the 1800's. Sounds legit."
Sam dumped his backpack beside the couch with an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, or maybe he's just criminally insane. What are you gonna do? Bust into the county jail to stick a flare up his ass?"
John and Dean jerked in surprise, glanced at each other, then slowly turned to stare at Sam. Sam only then realized how uncharacteristic his outburst was. His eyes widened as he tried to stammer up an excuse. "I just mean…that…you know…"
John snorted with a bemused smile and turned back to the television. "Last I heard, Bobby lived close to that area. And I hear that Caleb was supposed to be heading up to those parts."
Dean nodded along with his dad's line of thinking. "Could probably use back-up on this one. They'd be good to bring into it."
John stood up and turned the television off with the remote. "Unless they've already caught on to it. Either way, why don't you ring Caleb up on his cell phone."
Dean hopped to his feet and nudged Sam out of the way with his shoulder as he made his way into the hallway to use the phone. John passed by Sam as well, heading into the kitchen.
Sam raised his arms. "Whoa, hey. We aren't going after this thing are we? That's almost half way across the country!"
John was digging through the fridge for a beer. Finding one, he unscrewed the cap and took a long swig before regarding his youngest son. "Won't take long," he said as he wiped his mouth with one hand. "Probably will take the weekend. In any event, I'll sign you out of school for a week."
"A week?" Sam asked incredulously. "I'm going to miss an entire section of math!"
John's eyes hardened at Sam. "Eight people were hacked to death and eaten by someone they loved and trusted. And you're worried about math?"
Sam flushed and dropped his eyes to stare at the floor. "Whatever," he mumbled.
John eyed Sam while he took another drink from his beer bottle. "Go pack," he ordered.
Sam didn't look up as he dutifully walked to his room to start packing.
Dean hung up the phone and turned to his father with a grin on his face. "Caleb heard about it on the radio. Says he was just thinking the same thing. He's all set to meet at Bobby's house in two days. We gotta hurry."
John nodded approvingly at Dean. "Good. Go help your brother pack."
Sam sat in the back of the Impala, leaning his head against the door and drawing lines through the fogged up window. It had rained for almost the entire trip, only adding to Sam's current misery. His father regarded him in the rear view mirror.
"I need you on this one, Sammy."
Sam continued drawing stick figures with happy faces on the window. "I bet," he grumbled.
Sam grimaced as they exited the vehicle. Bobby's place was a pigsty. Vehicles that had been gutted or smashed to a quarter of their normal size were littered throughout the yard. The front porch of the house looked like it might disintegrate at any given moment. The exterior paint was chipping away, practically moulding before Sam's eyes. While his dad and brother practically skipped up the porch to bang on the screen door, Sam hovered by the Impala with his hands in his pockets and doing his best to ignore the rain that had suctioned his hair against his forehead. When the screen door opened and Bobby shook hands with John and half-hugged Dean, Sam resigned himself to his fate with rolled eyes and a disgusted sigh. He pushed himself away from the Impala and slowly walked up to the house, nodding at Bobby with a forced smile as he entered. Bobby eyed him warily, all too aware of Sam's recent moodiness.
Sam's mood did lighten somewhat at dinner. Bobby wasn't such a bad cook; heads and tails above his dad's cooking in any event. It was probably the first time he had tasted vegetables in over a month. His dad really only knew two food groups: beef and potatoes. Three, if you counted alcohol. Sam studied the green bean on his fork before popping it into his mouth, savouring the taste of melted butter and the warm, crunchy texture of the bean.
"You like those Sammy? Grew 'em right out back." Bobby winked at Sam from across the table.
Sam smiled appreciatively in return. Along with the beans, Bobby had prepared them a feast of grilled salmon and wild rice. Sam wasn't sure if Dean was really taking the time to enjoy it, but from the way his older brother was shovelling away forkfuls of food off his plate, Sam supposed that Dean was enjoying it in his own, patented, Dean-sort-of-way. Dean did pause during one huge mouthful to give Bobby a thumb's up. Sam shook his head with a grin.
His mood improved even more after dinner when Caleb showed up to mess up his hair and comment on his ridiculous height. Then he snatched Dean in a headlock and the wrestling match was on. While Bobby and John talked strategy in the kitchen, Sam kept score as Caleb and Dean rolled around on the living room floor trading cheap shots.
"Don't break anything in there!" Bobby yelled.
Sam had to duck as a couch cushion came flying at his head. "We won't!" He called back.
Dean's face was turning red from exertion and lack of oxygen as Caleb tried to choke him out with a sleeper hold. Dean reached around Caleb from behind and began punching him in the thigh, trying to give him a charley horse. Caleb half-yelled and half-sobbed when Dean finally made his mark. The two broke away and remained on the floor, panting and grinning idiotically at each other.
Caleb looked up at Sam, who was sitting on the couch and shaking his head in stern disapproval at the two. "So what's this I hear about you getting a girlfriend?"
Sam's eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell open while he gasped for some kind of rebuttal. It was only when he noticed that Dean was trying to look as nonchalant as possible that he realized his secret was out and no doubt blabbed to the world care of his brother.
"How'd you know?" Sam asked accusingly.
Dean smirked at him. "Oh please. 'I'm going to a movie with some friends'? Sam, you don't have any friends!"
Sam chucked a cushion at Dean's head. A minute later, John came striding back into the room and eyed all three severely with his hands on his hips. "Clean this place up," he ordered. "Then get your asses in here. We need to talk." Sam stood up, only to have John place a hand on his chest. "You, research. Find out everything you can about the Wendigo."
Sam clenched his jaw and was about to retort but thought better of it. Instead, he nodded at his dad and went to work, tugging on books from Bobby's bookshelves and laying them out on the living room floor. Sitting in the middle of his improvised library, Sam prepared himself for long night of reading.
