Three chapters in less than a week? You guys are lucky ducks. You know what really motivates me to write more frequently (beyond these fabulously detailed daydreams that prompt these ideas in the first place)? Reviews. And I must say, the reviews I got for the last chapter were fabulous. So a big thank you to all who took the time to review. Let that be a reminder. Reviews aren't just lovely, they boost my creative juices too.

Whitefish, Montana - One Night Later

Fire. That's how you kill a rugaru. It's also how you kill a wendigo. Hell, if this thing turns out to be just a rogue bear with the munchies, I'd be willing to wager the family farm fire would take care of that problem too. The amount of literal fire power we're currently stocked with, we could set a whole family of grizzlies ablaze.

Not that I'd set a family of bears on fire. My mom used to read me these books when I was a kid, maybe yours did too. The Berenstain Bears. After that, no way could I kill a family of grizzlies. Unless, of course, they were eating people.

I wonder where bears go when they die?

"Hey, Dean."

The cabin is dark, save for the sole lamp that glows a soft, electric blue in the center of what used to be a kitchen. A hole in the roof provides a bit of starlight and my phone offers the occasional extra visual aid, but other than that, the cabin is pretty well consumed by night. Even still, I can see Dean roll his green eye as he sips whiskey from his seat across the table.

"What?" he grumbles in a low tone, clearly irritated by my constant barrage of questions.

"Where do you think bears go when they die?"

"Really?" he groans, shooting me an annoyed expression.

"What about rugarus? Do they go to Purgatory?"

"Jesus Christ," Dean mutters between clenched teeth as he runs a hand down his face. "Yes. Rugarus go to Purgatory. And wraiths. And shape shifters, and ghouls and every other mother fucking monster on this planet."

"What about gods?"

Dean glares at me, more than bothered by my consistent blathering. After a few moments of silence, however, his hard expression falls into mild thought.

"I'm not actually sure about gods," he slowly admits. "What's with you, anyway? You've been a chatty Cathy all damn day. More so than usual, anyway."

"Sorry," I mutter an apology. "I'm just... if I stop talking, I start thinking about April."

"Well knock it off," Dean instructs me. "It's distracting and we can't afford a slip up here."

"What else should I think about?"

"Rugarus, Ben," he groans. "You should be thinking about rugarus."

Right. The thing we're waiting for. After a little research, Dean concluded our monster de jour has to be rugaru since wendigos usually drag their victims off. Whatever's in Whitefish is just eating people.

We've been sitting in this cabin for at least three hours, waiting for the damn thing to show up. Each of us clutch what could only be classified as a homemade flame-thrower - fashioned from portable butane tanks and blowtorch nozzles - and a silver zippo. We each wear a hunter's knife at our hip and carry a pistol in our jacket pockets, just in case. Dean even moved the Impala a safe distance from the ramshackle abode in case monster isn't the only thing we end up igniting tonight. We're prepared. We're ready. All we're missing now is the rugaru.

I look up and out the hole in the roof, taking in the stars that glisten through the mountain forest. I wonder if there are stars in Purgatory?

I know that I technically did the right thing, killing April. She was right, she had to go and I was the one who had to send her away. Still, every time I think about her, this knot at the pit of my stomach tightens. It makes me a little sick knowing where she ended up. It would even if I had let Dean do it for me.

Then again, would Hell really be a better place to end up?

It's not fair, April going to Purgatory. She was a good person. She saved people and didn't ask for anything in return. She was in the middle of saving people the moment her soul was condemned to that wretched place and she only existed as a "monster" for a single month. Okay, yes, she killed a few people, but that wasn't her fault. That wasn't her. It's not fair she had to go to Purgatory.

Where is God?

Does it even matter what I'm doing? Life's not fair, everybody knows that. Why does the afterlife have to be so unfair, too?

Dean hits me hard on the arm and I realize he's been talking to me.

"What?" I blink and he rolls his eye.

"Get your head in the game, man," he harshly instructs me. "I'm not kidding. We cannot afford any fuck ups here, you got that?"

"Yes sir," I reply, saluting him with two fingers, a gesture that makes him frown.

"This isn't a game," he growls. "Now get your head out of your ass or go sit in the car." He pauses to let out a long sigh in an effort to ease his temper. "We've got company, and I don't think it's the natural kind."

"Good," I say, rising to my feet. "I only hunt the supernatural kind."

"I swear to god..." I hear Dean mutter under his breath, shaking his head. "You check the back. I'll check out front."

Silently I do as I'm told. I tiptoe to the back of the cabin and cautiously peer through one of the shattered windows. Clear to the left. Clear to the right. No monster. No nothing, actually.

I glance back at Dean who cautiously stands less than a foot beyond the front door. He glances left, then right. Just when I think he's about to report a false alarm, he freezes. Even in the dark I can tell his ears have picked up something his eye did not.

"Shit," he mutters as he hangs his head and gradually lifts the butane tank clutched in his right hand. His left hand slowly flicks his zippo open as he prepares to light his torch at the drop of a hat.

But he's too late. From his left, it comes in swinging and knocks Dean to the ground with a single swoop. A monster who, from where I'm standing, looks just like a pale, dark haired man.

The man - or monster, rather - sniffs the air before turning to look at me. A low, vicious growl escapes his throat as his lips curl back in a snarl that exposes the mouth full of jagged teeth that seems pretty standard amongst many supernatural creatures. And then he smiles.

My brain screams at my legs to run, but my eyes see no place to go. The only way out is currently being blocked by a rugaru. Which, really, is something I should be focusing on fighting, not trying to run from. I'm a hunter for God's sake.

The rugaru pushes through the threshold of the door at a swift pace that seems almost impossible, heading straight for me. I flick my zippo to ignite my torch. When nothing happens beyond the small, yellow flame on my lighter, a wave of nausea washes over me.

Of course it's not going to light. I never cranked the butane on. There's not a single drop of gas emitting from my tank. And, given how quickly the creature descends upon me, there's no time to rectify this oversight.

So I throw the tank at him. I don't know why, but I do. I replace my lighter with the pistol, getting just enough time to fire off a single, desperate shot that seemingly completely misses the monster.

Before I can blink, I'm laying on the floor with a splitting headache. My arms are pinned down with such a force it feels like they're going to break through the wooden slats beneath me. Beyond the stars that explode across my field of vision, I can see the rugaru who sits on my chest. He snarls as he snaps his teeth, leaning closer and closer with each passing second. Like he's going to eat my face.

Shit. He's going to eat my face.

I attempt to move my arms, but it's no use. Dean wasn't kidding when he said these things were strong. I flail my legs, attempt to sit up. I do anything I can think of to get this bastard to at least loose his balance, but he doesn't flinch. He's not just strong as hell, he's as heavy as a boulder.

It's getting hard to breathe.

The rugaru leans in close, nearly pressing his nose to my face. It's now that I can see his red eyes and the dark veins that run just beneath his pale, wormy and leathery flesh.

This is the worst possible thing to see before I die.

I wonder where my reaper will take me? Was I a good enough boy to get into heaven? Did I sin just the right amount of times to get a one-way ticket to Hell? Or do I have too much unfinished business and I'll end up roaming between the veil for a hundred years until I get angry and vengeful and another hunter has to give me the final send off?

The rugaru lets out a wild hiss as his jaws open so wide they almost unhinge. He leans in to take a nice big chuck out of my throat...

Adios, cruel world.

The sound of a single gunshot rings out. The rugaru hisses again, but this time not because he's about to devour my flesh, but because he's been shot in the shoulder. A second shot rings out as a bullet enters the monster's neck. A third penetrates his arm.

The creature hisses angrily as his head snaps up and his gaze falls to the figure standing in the doorway. Dean. He aims his pistol and squeezes the trigger, sending a bullet right into the monster's skull. Which, really, just pisses the thing off even more.

Luckily for me, it also distracts him.

The creature scrambles off my chest, forgetting me almost entirely as he lets loose an intimidating roar and advances on Dean. My hands fly to my throat to check the extent of the damage. Nothing but solid, unbroken flesh. He didn't bite me.

Oh, thank God. Thank Odin. Thank Artemis and Zeus and Ra and every god that ever existed. But, above all, thank Dean Winchester.

That's the closest to death I've ever personally been, and my body is well aware of it. My heart races within my chest and my limbs, though finally free to wave around and stand and hold weapons, are numb from shock. For now, I find myself incapable of doing much beyond watching the rugaru rush the one-eyed hunter at full speed.

Dean is, of course, completely ready for the creature. He drops his gun and waits for the perfect moment, waits for the flesh-eating monster to get close enough to him. And, when that perfect moment arrives, Dean lights his torch.

The rugaru walks right into the flames. He was moving too fast to avoid it. He screams and cries, a sound almost more chilling than having his red eyes stare coldly into yours mere inches from your own face. The rugaru falls to the ground with a sickening thud just outside the cabin and begins to roll, but it's no use. Dean's there with his fire aimed directly at him, and that's where he keeps the blaze until the monster falls silent and still.

Gradually my body regains enough mobility and sensation for me to climb back to my feet. I collect my fallen gun as I amble with a slight limp towards the doorway where I pause to watch Dean extinguish his torch. I eye the monster that smolders at his feet, burned to a nice, even black crisp.

I should feel disappointed in myself for my epic fail, and I kind of do. This was about the last thing I wanted Dean to see and it probably set me back a bit as far as proving myself as a hunter. But holy shit, I'm alive. Dean saved my bacon and that's honestly all that really matters to me.

"So..." I begin once we're positive the monster is long gone from this world. "That's a rugaru, huh?"

It happens almost as quickly as the creature had pinned me to the floor. Dean's got me shoved up against the cabin wall with a fury in his face I find equally as terrifying as having a rugaru sitting on your chest.

"What did I tell you?!" he rages with a bark.

I open my mouth to make what would probably be a smart-ass remark, something like "to think about rugarus", but I think better of it. Because right now I'm almost positive Dean's going to rip my head off.

"No fuck ups," he loudly reminds me. "I told you to pull your head out of your ass and not to fuck up."

Technically he told me we can't afford fuck ups, but now doesn't seem like a good time to point that out.

"You almost got yourself killed in there," he states, backing off just a smidgen. As he moves a step away, I can see the blood glistening on his scalp, wetting down a spot of hair on the right side of his head. The rugaru must have knocked him down harder than I realized.

"Yeah," I agree, slowly nodding. "You were right about rugarus. Son of a bitch was strong."

"There's no reason he should have even gotten that close," Dean snaps. "What happened to your fire?"

"I... forgot to crank the butane on..." I begrudgingly admit.

"You let yourself get distracted," he says. "Again."

A thick and uncomfortable silence falls as Dean angrily begins to pace in slow, wide circles in front of the cabin. He scratches at the stubble that's taken over his chin as he carefully thinks about what he's going to say next. I'm surprised he hasn't...

Hup, there's the flask.

"I'm sorry," I quietly and shamefully apologize. He pauses in his pacing long enough to glare at me.

"You bet your ass you're sorry," he says.

"I am," I insist. "That was dumb and it won't happen again, I swear. No need to get all pissy about it."

This only seems to light a deeper rage from within.

"You have no idea..." he begins and then, just as I think I'm really going to get it, he trails off and swallows whatever emotion I've managed to subject him to. "As long as you ride with me, you're my responsibility," he says with a forced calmness. "But you have your own responsibilities in this job. And I'm not..." Pause. Hard swallow. "I'm not gonna bury you, Ben. I'm not. And I'm not gonna be the one to tell your mom you got killed on the job. If you can't shape up and do the job right, I'm sending you home."

He turns his back to me, slowly walking towards the Impala as he takes a sip from his flask.

I frown.

"I got in this life without you," I angrily call after him. "You can't make me get out."

"Wanna bet?" he calls back with a firm grumble, not bothering to face me.

I think what bothers me the most about Dean pulling the "authority figure" card is how eerily natural it feels. Not because I've idolized him from a far for so long or even because he's the veteran hunter in this partnership. It's something else that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's there and it certainly enhances the shame I feel for letting Dean down.

Never again. I won't let this happen again. I swear, Dean. I won't.