I watched the woods go by from my seat in the back of the Impala and tried to ignore the pangs of hunger. Dean was driving, and Sam was tossing and turning in the seat beside him, caught in some nightmare, the waves of grief and pain pouring off him, not helping my attempts to ignore my hunger.
Dean glanced over as Sam moaned in his sleep, "Why don't you just help him?"
"I could take the pain away, De," I murmured quietly, "but it wouldn't help him. He needs to work through this. He needs to feel it, in order to heal from it. Taking the pain away would only prolong his grieving."
Dean grunted; emotions had never really been his thing. He trusted me though, and he knew I wanted what was best for Sammy.
With a sudden start our brother was awake, glancing around the car to orientate himself and rubbing at his eyes. It had no doubt been a few years since he'd last woken up in this car.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Sammy was lying to us, and we all knew it.
"'nother nightmare?" Sam ignored him, "Wanna drive for a while?"
I stared at Dean while Sam gave a short laugh, "Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that."
"Just thought you might want to, never mind."
"Look, man, you're worried about me, I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay." Dean made a noise of sarcastic agreement and I just snorted. Sam's head movement as he turned to look at the road was one of exasperation.
"Alright," Sam grabbed the map off the dash, "where are we?"
"We are just outside of Grand Junction."
"You know what; maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon."
"Sam, we dug around there for a week, okay? We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica-"
There was a sharp increase in pain as her name was spoken, partly it was Sam's pain, partly I missed the girl I'd met only briefly, she'd been a part of my life, albeit only a small part, for as long as she had been in Sam's and I felt her loss keenly.
"-We've got to find Dad first" Sam studied the map and struggled to maintain control over his pain.
"Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years? It's no coincidence. Dad'll have answers, he'll know what to do."
"It's weird, man," Dean looked over to Sam and the map he held, "these co-ordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge,"
"What about it?"
"There's nothing there, it's just… woods." Sam looked up at us, dropping the map to his lap, "Why's he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"
"He's hunting something." I pointed out. It was pretty obvious really. After all, he never did anything else.
When we got to Lost Creek we headed to the Ranger Station and I followed the boys inside. It was a fairly small log cabin, there was a three dimensional model of the national park in the middle of the room, a desk to one side, an office at the back and a couple of framed photos up on the walls. I picked up a tourist information pamphlet and started to browse while Sam looked at the model and Dean was distracted by one of the photos.
"So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," Sammy starting briefing us and I drifted over to study the model with him, "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines, all over the place-"
"Dude, check out the size of this friggin' bear!"
Sam stepped up to Dean's side before continuing, "And, a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It's no nature hike, that's for sure."
"You kids aren't planning to go out by Blackwater Ridge, by any chance?" An old ranger had stepped out of the office behind us, the smell of his coffee reminding me again that I hadn't eaten yet that day.
"Oh, no sir," Sam started with a friendly smile on his face, "We're environment study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper." It was almost nostalgic; to watch Sammy slip back into lying so easily.
"Recycle, man," Dean added his two cents with a small fist pump, idjit.
"Bull!" I looked up sharply, glancing at my brothers as we all exchanged a look before turning back to look at the ranger, "You're friends with that Halley girl, right?"
"Yes!" Dean took the lead now; he'd always been the leader of our little band, even back when I'd appeared to be the oldest. "Yes, we are, Ranger… Wilkinson"
The man moved behind his desk and the three of us shifted to stand before it, Sammy and I each behind one of Dean's shoulders, "Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her; her brother filled out a back country permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the 24th. So, not exactly a missing person's now, is it? Tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine"
"We will." He turned to go back to his office when Dean called after him, "Well, that Halley girl's quite a pistol, huh?"
"That is putting it mildly."
"Actually, you know would help, is if I could show her a copy of that back country permit, you know, so she could see her brother's return date" Ranger Wilkinson considered for a moment and Dean gave him an 'I'm innocent' face which was utter horse shit, but effective non the less. The ranger gave us the copy and we left, Dean chuckling as headed back out to the car.
"You cruising for a hook-up or something?" Sammy sounded pissed. I trudged along behind my brothers, letting their fight wash over me as I considered. Dad had sent us to the middle of nowhere, and now a kid was missing, in the exact same middle of nowhere. It couldn't be chance; this was a definitely a hunt. The only question was whether Dad was still here. Or, maybe...
Dad wasn't here, was he? He knew we'd be looking for him, and this was how he'd chosen to get us off his tail; send us off on a false lead that would keep us busy long enough to guarantee that his trail had gone cold.
The old man had always been a crafty one.
"Since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later anyway?" I glanced up as I reached the car.
"Since now." Sam's voice was quiet, he got into the car as Dean and I shared a look.
After a long overdue meal we headed to the contact address on the back country permit Dean had scored from the ranger, I stayed in the car, since the boys would be pretending to be park rangers, and again, I couldn't join in.
After that we headed to a bar, not Sam's or my first choice of location, but Dean was driving, and he was only a fan of democracy when everyone agreed with him. There was a library down the street, so Sam and I got to researching while Dean went and… did whatever it is Dean does in a bar.
What we found confirmed my thoughts that we had a case on our hands. As we joined Dean in the bar, Sam filled him in, "So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly, but still this past April two hikers went missing out there, they were never found."
"Any before that?"
"Yeah," Sam handed Dean the print outs of the old newspaper articles, "In 1982 eight different people all vanished in the same area, authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And again in 1959 and again in 1936," Sammy reached into his bag for his laptop and balanced it precariously on the small table we were sat around. "Every 23 years, just like clockwork. Okay, watch this; here's the clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop and check this out."
He clicked through the three frames on the video where something could clearly be seen moving at very high speed outside the tent, unfortunately due to the nature of how digital footage was recorded, the high speed of whatever it was rendered it impossible to identify.
"Do it again." The shape was just a blur, Dean wouldn't get anything more from it than we had, it was vaguely humanoid, with arms and legs, probably around the same size as a human, depending on the relative positions of the light source, the creature and the wall of the tent where its shadow could be seen, and it was very, very fast.
Or maybe very small and close to the light source. But when are we ever that lucky?
Sam showed the frames again, "That's three frames, it's a fraction of a second, whatever that thing is, it can move."
Dean smacked Sam in the arm, "Told you something weird was going on!"
"Yeah," Sam shut the laptop, returning it to his bag, "I got one more thing; in '59 one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack, just a kid, barely crawled out of the woods alive."
Dean regarded the newspaper article Sam had handed him, "Is there a name?"
I waited in the car for the guys to come back from questioning Mr Shaw, they were still posing as rangers, and I still couldn't tag along. Eventually they reappeared and Dean headed straight for the armory in the boot.
"So?" I leant against the side of the car, arms crossed against the evening chill, watching as Dean shoved shotguns into a duffel bag. "Add a third."
He looked up and pointed a finger at me, "You're not coming."
"That girl Halley has lost her brother out in those woods, that ain't a club I'm interested in joining. I'm coming with you."
"No!" Sam added his opinion, before turning to Dean, "We cannot let that Halley girl go out there."
"Well, what are we gonna tell her? She can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?"
"Yeah!"
"You won't be able to stop her, just like you won't be able to stop me."
They both glared at me, I gave them a 'what you gonna do?' face. They knew tying me up wouldn't work, I was something of an escape artist. That's if they could even keep a hold on me long enough to tie me up in the first place; wriggling will get you out of everything from tickle fights to being tied to a chair for your own protection.
"So, finding Dad isn't enough? Now we have to babysit too?" Sam asked, I gave him an affronted look, Dean just watched him. "What?" His voice was low and irritated.
"Nothing" Dean threw the duffel at his chest and we headed towards the motel room.
The next morning dawned sunny and bright as I bounced around the room, putting coffee on for the boys and hustling them out of bed. We hit up a diner for breakfast and I made them stop at a convenience store for snacks on the way out to the Ranger's Station. Sammy and I went for the nice, sensible dried fruit and biscuits, a couple of water bottles. Dean got M&Ms.
Halley, her brother Ben, and the guide they'd hired where already at the bottom of the trail by the time we arrived. I was secretly glad we'd have a guide, since I hadn't really had time to study the map in as much detail as I would have liked, and the last thing we needed to add to our list of problems was getting lost out there.
"You guys got room for three more?" Dean called cheerily as we exited the car.
"Wait, you want to come with us?" Halley looked hesitant, so I smiled brightly at her, trying to seem friendly and helpful.
"Who are these guys?" The guide was scowling at us and caring a firearm.
"Apparently this is all the park services could muster up for the search and rescue." She gave Dean an unimpressed look before glancing at me, "I've no clue who she is."
"You're rangers?"
"That's right!" That's it Dean, confidence is the way to sell any lie.
"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Maybe confidence wouldn't be enough to sell this particular lie, Halley still looked unimpressed.
"Well, Sweetheart, I don't do shorts."
"It's 'cause he's got hideous legs!" I whispered to the girl as I passed her.
"And who are you?" Her voice had risen in pitch; she could see her control over the situation slipping.
"His sister." I gestured over my shoulder to where my brothers were starting to lead the way along the trail. "I'm the better map reader and he knows it, so I usually tag along."
"What? You think this is funny?" I'm starting to reconsider the value of this guide, "It's dangerous back country out there, her brother might be hurt."
Dean looked at Sam, I couldn't see his face, but I'm willing to bet it was 'ya think?' "Believe me," he turned back to the guide, "I know how dangerous it can be. We just want to help them find their brother, that's all."
We'd trekked a few miles out when Dean decided to make a little small talk with Roy, the guide. They were talking about hunting, Dean was mocking the man to his face, without his words ever letting it show, but I grinned as Roy became irritable, clearly aware he was being mocked, but unsure of how exactly. Suddenly he flipped the tables on Dean, stopping him from stepping in a bear trap, and getting in a gentle dig at Dean for his obvious lack of knowledge of the landscape we were traveling through.
Halley scowled at me before pushing ahead to talk to Dean. Well, that wasn't very friendly; I'd been perfectly nice to her.
"You didn't pack any provisions, you guys are carrying a duffel bag, and you brought your sister along. You're not rangers, who the hell are you?" She and Dean stopped, and I caught Dean's eye before I passed them, checking he was okay with this, he nodded and I moved along.
"We're siblings, and we're looking for our father, he might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me were… in the same boat."
"Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?"
"I'm telling you now. Besides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman, ever. So, we okay?" Dean started walking again, they had fallen behind the group, but they were still comfortably within the range of my hearing, which seems to be more advanced that a humans. "And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" I glanced back to see him pulling the bag of M&Ms out of his pocket, already half eaten. Oh, Dean.
It was hours, long after we'd stopped for lunch (and the boys had suddenly been grateful for my early morning productivity when I produced sandwiches for them from my satchel) when Roy came to a halt.
"This is it, Blackwater Ridge."
"What co-ordinates are we at?" You know, I'm starting to worry about Sammy; he's been… not himself since losing Jess. Maybe a little light pain relief was needed.
"35, -111" Came the reply after Roy checked his GPS.
"You hear that?" Dean questioned.
"Yeah," replied Sam as I cocked my head, straining my ears, "not even crickets."
"There are echoes here though," I murmured to my brothers, "Faint, a few days old, I think, but undisturbed." Pain is energy, I sense it using an additional sense, not any of the traditional five, and so describing it is difficult. I usually settled for saying that I could smell or hear it, despite the inaccuracy.
"Let me go take a look around." The guide had been helpful, but couldn't we have had someone other than this Roy? He was starting to grate on my nerves.
"You shouldn't go off by yourself."
"How sweet," Yep, I hate the guy, "I won't be long."
"Alright, everyone stays together," Dean turned to look at the rest of us. "Let's go."
We hadn't followed the idiot far when he shouted from up ahead and we all hurried along the path to join him. What we found was not good.
Tommy's campsite was destroyed, tents ripped, supplies damaged and strewn about, there was some blood on one of the tattered tents.
"Looks like a grizzly" Roy informed us. Incorrectly, but he was just a civilian; what would he know?
The pain echoes were stronger here, but disturbed, as if something had been moving about the campsite after the pain and fear had ended or moved elsewhere. I glanced around the site, could it have been staged? Could the monster have returned to trash the camp and make it look like a grizzly attack? Halley and Ben's pain was starting to rise, obliterating the delicate scent trail, so I turned my attention to the physical traces, looking for tracks, bloodstains, anything that would confirm my theory.
"Tommy!" I gave Halley a sharp look as she called out for her brother and Sam hurried to hush her.
Here, at the back of one of the tents, there were marks where a body had been dragged from the tent and away from the camp; Dean and I followed it to its end. Dean called Sam over to see what we'd found and I hissed as he arrived, the puzzle resolving itself in my mind and I snapped my gaze up to the trees above our heads. "Fucker can climb."
"I'll tell you what," said Dean, rising from his examination of the ground, "It's no skin walker or blackdog."
We headed back to the campsite, wanting to keep everyone together and Dean moved to offer words of comfort to Halley while I tried to persuade Sam to lift me up on his shoulders so I could get a closer view of the surrounding tree branches. My hearing may be better than a humans, but my eyesight seems to be equivalent, if not slightly reduced.
Suddenly, away in the woods to the right, there was a human sounding scream. Everyone froze, and then ran all at once as the voice cried out again for help. We raced through the woods following the screams and then Sam, who was in the lead, stopped suddenly, listening.
I was at the back, the slowest in the group, and I stopped, straining my ears for the slightest sound. Was that a breeze passing through the tree tops above me with a slight scrape and a trace of… hunger?
"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" It can't have been a breeze, the wind was going the other way, and it was headed back the way we'd come, impossibly fast.
"Everybody back to camp." Called Sam and we set of at a brisk jog back the way we'd come, a sinking sensation in my stomach, despite the fear starting to rise in our group.
Fear, worry, hunger and distress aren't truly pain of course, and therefore not as… nutritious, but they are types of discomfort, and I could definitely smell the fear pouring off certain members of the group. And I had no doubt that the creature I now suspected was hunting us could smell the fear too.
The thing, whatever it was, was fast, it could climb, dragging its victims into the trees with it, so it was strong too. It was hungry, could imitate human voices and it was smart. The evidence was stacking up and I didn't like where it was pointing.
When I arrived back at the campsite, the packs were gone and Sam was speaking, "It's smart, it wanted to cut us off so we can't call for help."
"You mean someone, some nutjob out there, just stole all our gear?" Roy really wasn't the brightest bulb, was he?
"I need to speak with you, in private." Sam pulled Dean behind a few trees and I followed, eyeing the trees above us.
"Let me see Dad's journal." Dean handed it over and Sammy started leafing through it.
"It's a Wendigo. Isn't it?" I joined the boys, still keeping my gaze upwards.
"No!" Dean scoffed, "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or Northern Michigan, I've never even heard of one this far west!"
Sam found the right page in Dad's journal and handed it to Dean, "Think about it Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice. And Ali and I came to the same conclusion without conferral."
Dean gives us a 'do you have to use big words?' face, "Great…well, then this is useless." Holding up his gun.
Sam closed the journal and slapped it against Dean's chest as he walks past, "We've got to get these people to safety."
"Too late for that, Sam," I murmur, still searching the trees above us, "It's hunting us now."
Both boys looked at me, horrified realisation on their faces.
"Awesome."
The fire was burning brightly as night fell, according to lore the wendigo was sufficiently afraid of fire that sitting by an open fire could offer some protection from one. Come to think about it, that's probably how Mr Shaw had escaped, when Dean told me everything the old man had said he'd mentioned that he'd been sleeping by the fire when the Wendigo crept into the cabin and abducted his parents.
Dean moved around the perimeter of the little campsite, drawing Anasazi symbols in the dirt, while I sat by the fire with Halley and Ben. Halley looked up at Dean as he passed us, "One more time, that's..."
"Anasazi symbols" Dean replied in his reassuring voice, the one that always made me feel safe, like the bad man couldn't hurt me anymore, the one that sounded a bit like Dad. "It's for protection, the Wendigo can't cross over them."
That cocky and ignorant guide laughed from where he stood, rifle resting casually against his shoulder of the other side of the campsite. He reeked of fear.
"No one likes a sceptic, Roy." With that small put down Dean moved across to join Sammy where he sat a little outside the ring of firelight, scratching at the ground with a small stick.
Dean sat down beside him and spoke, "You want to tell me what's going on inside that freaky head of yours?"
"Dean-"
"No, you're not fine" I couldn't disagree with Dean's words, but whether it would be wise to interfere? I studied my brothers closely from where I sat by the fire. "You're like a powder keg man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?"
Sammy spoke; his voice quiet and disappointed, "Dad's not here. I mean that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?"
"Yeah, you're probably right." Dean answered in the same tone, "Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been in Lost Creek."
"Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad! I mean, why are we still even here?" He threw his stick at the ground.
Dean moved to sit in front of Sam, taking out Dad's journal and I moved to take Dean's unoccupied seat next to Sam. I wrapped an arm around him and leant my head against his shoulder, resisting the urge to feed.
Dean placed his hand atop the journal and stared straight at Sammy, "This is why, this book." Dean tapped at it with a fingertip. "This is Dad's single most valuable possession, everything he knows about every evil thing is in here, and he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things; the family business!"
Sam seemed unimpressed by Dean's motivational speech, though I thought it had been a fairly good one, as such things go. "That makes no sense. Why… Why doesn't he just call us, why doesn't he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is."
"I dunno, but the way I see it, Dad's given us a job to do and I intend to do it."
"Dean… No. I gotta find Dad, I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about."
"Okay, alright, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me, you've gotta prepare yourself, I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul, it's going to kill you. You gotta have patience, man." I take it back; Dean can do feelings, just so long as they're not his.
Sammy shook his head with a rueful little chuckle, "How do you do it? How does Dad do it?"
Dean looked around before focusing back on Sam, "Well, for one, them." Sam and I both glanced over to the fireplace, where Halley and Ben where huddling close to the flames. "I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others, makes things a little bit more bearable. And I'll tell you what else helps; killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can."
We shared a small smile, and I gave my baby brother's shoulder a squeeze, about to offer my particular brand of pain management, but we were interrupted.
"Help me!" The cry sounded like a desperate man, though if I listened closely I could hear a slight difference in the timbre from a normal human. "Please!"
The three of us were on our feet and back with the others in the circle of firelight before the second cry sounded. The others were all standing too, staring out into the darkness with wide eyes and in Roy's case with his utterly useless rifle raised to his shoulder. "Help!"
"It's trying to draw us out," Dean's voice was calm and unwavering, "stay cool, stay put."
"Inside the magic circle?" Some people (Roy) were just asking to be eaten by a wendigo…
"Help! Help me! Please!" The cries were cut off by a roar and a very manly scream.
"Okay, that's no grizzly." Finally got the memo, did you, Roy?
"It's okay," Halley had hold of her remaining brother's hand and was pulling him to sit down by the fire, "He'll be alright, I promise."
Dean and Roy were both pointing useless firearms into the darkness now. It was a sign of how nervous my brother was; he knew the gun wouldn't hurt a wendigo, he was doing it simply because having a gun in his hand made him feel better, more in control of the situation. Silver tipped bullets would do a little damage, not enough to kill it, or even really slow it down, but the silver bullets were back in the Impala, and regular bullets wouldn't do more than make it cross.
There was growl suddenly close by and Halley screamed, "It's here!" Sam announced before the growls and now rustling foliage starting racing around the campsite faster than we could follow with our eyes.
Roy started shooting and soon there was a squeal from the tree and the sound of something moving away, "I hit it!" and he made off into the darkness to finish his kill as he would a dear or a bear.
"Roy, No! Roy!" Dean pointed back at us, "Don't move!" and quickly followed Roy, Sam racing after him. Idjits! The fool's dead already!
Halley and I both grabbed burning branches from the fireplace, holding them in front of ourselves and standing with our backs together as cries came from the woods. "It's over here! It's in the trees!" that was the voice of the wendigo, was it still simply mimicking old victims, or did it actually understand what it was saying and it was taunting us?
The boys came back, without Roy.
The rest of the night passed in wakefulness, with the wendigo rustling the trees and calling to us, but none of us left the protection of the fire and the Anasazi symbols again.
When morning came, I was sat with Sam, curled around him, reducing his pain to something he could think around more easily. Being unable to feel emotional responses can be disconcerting, it can make things worse in the end, but Sam's knowledge of what I was doing, coupled with the fact that I was reducing, not removing, the pain would hopefully be enough to prevent further damage. I was slowing easing it back, allowing the pain to ebb and flow back to full strength so that Sammy could get to grips with it, rather than throwing him in the deep end. We were still on a hunt, we needed him to be able to think clearly without my assistance.
Dean was giving the civilians 'The Talk' and examining the marks the wendigo had left on the trees around the camp during the night.
"I don't…" Halley wasn't as accepting as her brother Ben. "I mean, these types of things, they aren't supposed to be real."
"I wish I could tell you different."
"How do we know if they're out there watching us?"
"We don't," That's really reassuring, Dean, "but we're safe for now."
"How do you know about this stuff?"
"It kinda runs in the family."
Sammy and I returned at this point, "So, we've got half a chance in the daylight, and I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch."
"Well, hell, you know I'm in." Dean smirked at us.
Sam got out the journal and showed it to Halley and Ben, "Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours'."
"They're hundreds of years old. Each was once a man, sometimes an Indian or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter." Dean had read Dad's journal so many times he practically had it memorised word for word.
"How's a man turn into one of these things?"
"Well, it's always the same. During some harsh winter, the guy finds themselves starving, cut off from supplies or help - becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp."
"Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities - speed, strength, immortality."
"If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less-than-human thing. You're always hungry."
"So, if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?"
We exchanged a look, "You're not gonna like it."
"Tell me."
"More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it's awake, it keeps its victims alive. It stores them so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, safe. And we've got to track it back there."
"And then how do we stop it?"
"Well, guns are useless, so are knives. Basically, we've got to torch the sucker." Dean held up the Molotov cocktail he'd cobbled together from the remains of the campsite, a grim smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye; Dean lived for the hunt.
After the activity of the night before there were plenty of scratch marks on the trees surrounding our little campsite, but further off there were fewer and it didn't take us long to pick up a trail. Every few yards a tree was marked, it was clear, very clear, and none of it had been there the day before.
It almost reminded me of a school trip when I was younger. We'd gone to the woods, a park, and the teachers had split us into groups. Each group followed a different coloured trail, the trails were marked by squares of paint on the trees. Squares, not claw marks and blood, but these were markers all the same, markers that were meant to be followed. The only question that remained was whether or not the trap was in the direction of the lair or not.
"Dean!" Sam called from up ahead and we jogged up to join him where he was staring up at the trees, which were marked in a circle all around us.
"You know," Sam kept his voice low enough that Halley and Ben couldn't hear, "I was thinking that those claw prints were so clear and distinct. Huh, they were almost too easy to follow."
Sudden growling and movement in the bushes around us had us all on high alert and Halley backed up towards a tree. A sudden silence fell, broken by a dripping noise, blood was falling onto the shoulder of Halley's jacket, she turned to look above her as I grabbed her sleeve and yanked her towards me, out from under the tree. I don't know if her scream was caused by our falling to the ground, or what she had seen in the tree, but there was a crash and Roy's body tumbled to the ground where she had been standing only a moment before.
Sammy rushed towards us, helping us to our feet and asking if we were okay. Dean checked the body, which was giving off no pain. "His neck's broken."
There was a growl from somewhere above us and Dean took command, "Okay, run! Run! Let's go, go, go!"
We took off, flying through the trees in a panic, Ben tripped not far ahead of me and Sam looked around at the sound, he stopped, grabbing at a tree to help control his momentum and came back helping Ben from the ground and grabbing at my arm as I got closer, dragging us both along. "Come on! I gotcha!"
From up ahead the sound of footsteps stopped, there was a growl and then Halley's loud scream. With a sound of smashing glass and a rustle in the tree tops, all was quiet up ahead.
"Halley!" Ban raced ahead, Sam hot on his heels until they stopped suddenly; Sam reaching down to pick up the neck of a smashed bottle with a meths soaked rag through it.
"Dean!" I caught the boys and stood stock still, searching.
Somewhere, there had to be… There! It was faint, high in the trees, only a trace drifting down to me where I stood on the ground below. "This way!" I gasped and surged forwards.
I hurried onwards, desperate not to lose the faint trail of my brother's distress, careful to keep a little ahead of the others, not wanting their fear and anxiety to cover up the barely discernible trace.
"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" Ben asked, just as I lost the scent.
"Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off." Sam replied, I was staring upwards, 'sniffing' and 'listening', with no luck.
Ben bent close to the ground, picking something up, "They went this way!"
Sam and I hurried over, relief flooding me as I saw the M&M he was holding; I wouldn't need to find that trail.
"Huh." Sammy took it, looking at it before tossing it to the side, "It's better than breadcrumbs"
We followed the M&Ms to the entrance to an old mine, Dean's words from earlier resounding in my head 'it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, safe.' A deserted mine could certainly be considered all those things by a wendigo. We exchanged a glance, then Sammy stepped through the hole left by the missing boards over the entrance and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
The air inside the mine was still and the cold and damp seemed to seep from the rocks around us into the air, so that you couldn't even breath without knowing you were underground. Our footsteps echoed through the darkness, disturbed only by the dripping of water somewhere further ahead. The only light came from the entrance behind us and the torches Sam and I had retrieved from our pockets.
There was a growl and we both switched off the lights, ducking to the sides of the tunnel, pressing back against the cold stone. The wendigo stepped into view, silhouetted against the sunlight from the entrance behind it. Ben made a small whimpering noise and Sam covered his mouth with a hand, turning to look at him and shaking his head.
When it had moved passed we ducked down the passage it had come from, it was quite possible that it was keeping its prisoners down there. The torchlight reflected off the damp stone walls and I dropped behind slightly, directing my torch to the ground, wanting to see any slight trace of regular passage, a sign that the wendigo came this way often.
The footsteps ahead of me suddenly changed from walking on stone to wooden boards, creaking wooden boards. With barely any warning, and not enough time to react the boards gave way beneath the boys and they disappeared into the blackness below. I held back the little scream of shock I wanted to give. There was no need to draw more attention to our presence than the sound of breaking boards already had.
I edged closer to the hole. The boys weren't seriously hurt, just a bit banged up, but they weren't the only people whose pain whispered to me from below. I rummaged through my satchel for the rope I'd brought. It, a first aid kit and the snacks we'd bought from the convenience store were the only supplies I'd brought with me. I found the end of a wooden beam that still looked fairly sturdy and secured the end of the rope before shimmying my way down it. The ground wasn't too far below, and by the time I got there Sam had already cut Dean and Halley down from where the wendigo had tied them up. I grabbed Dean's face, drawing the pain from his wrists, concussion and assorted contusions. I gestured to the other being whose pain I could sense, "Cut him down too."
Halley and Ben approached the figure, reaching out to touch his face Halley whispered a name, her voice trembling with tears, "Tommy?" Then she jumped, screaming a little as he awoke with a gasp. They made quick work of cutting the boy down and I moved across to join them. The boy was in a lot more pain now that he was awake. He grinned up at his siblings and they whispered reassurances to him. I checked him for injuries and fed deeply from his pain, the head injury would keep him confused enough that he wouldn't link the decrease in pain to my presence.
"Hey, check it out!" Dean's voice was upbeat, drawing our attention to him and the flare guns he held in either hand.
I grinned at him, "Those'll work."
Halley and Ben hauled their brother to his feet and I rested a hand on Sam's shoulder as Dean handed him one of the flare guns, drawing the mild pain from his ankle and back where he'd fallen to the floor. We ignored the rope I'd used to descend; there was no way we'd be able to get Tommy up that route.
Sam and Dean led the way from the 'pantry' while I took the rear, listening closely and feeding off Tommy's pain. The effects of my feeding would last a short while, that combined with adrenaline would keep the party moving at a reasonable pace.
There was a growl up ahead and we all stopped, "Looks like someone's home for supper."
"We'll never out run it." Halley pointed out, hauling her brother's arm higher on her shoulder.
Dean glanced to Sam, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yeah, I think so." I frowned, I hated it when Dad used to make Dean be the bait, and it was always Dean, I ran too slowly, Sam was the baby, too precious, so it was always Dean who was placing himself in the line of fire.
Dean took a few steps forward before turning to address the others, "Alright, listen to me. Stay with Sam and Ali, they'll get you out of here."
"What are you going to do?"
Dean didn't answer with words, just a wink, and then he was off, shouting for the wendigo to "Bring it on, baby! I taste good!"
Of course, it was entirely possible, the wendigo being as smart as it was, that Dean wasn't actually being the bait this time; that the wendigo would ignore him and come after us instead.
Sam went a little way ahead, checking around a corner with the flare gun raised to shoulder height, "Right, come on, hurry!"
We could hear Dean still shouting, and somewhere much closer, the wendigo growling as we found a place where daylight could be seen. Sam checked around the corner towards the light, then moved towards the tunnel where the growling was getting louder, "Get out of here."
"Sam, no!"
"Go!"
"Get out of here, so we don't have to worry about you." I handed Ben my torch and gave Halley a small shove down the passage. They moved, slowly, but they did move.
Sam tucked himself against the wall and I sank to the ground finding a crevice where I could watch from the shadows.
There was quiet for a second before my sensitive ears picked up the sound of stealthy movement above Sam's head.
"Above you!" I shouted the warning and then launched myself down the tunnel after the others. There was only one shot in the flare gun, if Sam missed, I needed to run, there was nothing more I could do. My shadow ran long in front of me as the flare lit the tunnel behind me in bright white light, there was an angry roar from the wendigo and Sam was pelting down the tunnel behind me, shouting at the group ahead of us to run!
We hurried around the corner, only to find another corner and another, daylight streaming in through holes in the roof of the mine, but no way out. We could hear the wendigo following us, perhaps it was cautious because we might have more flares, or perhaps it was playing with us. We hit a dead end and Sam stood to the front of our little, unarmed and utterly helpless group. I wrapped my arms around my brother, my heart racing and eye wide as the wendigo stepped into view.
It had leathery looking grey skin, its arms and legs longer than was right for something that was once human. Its head was bald, making its ears more prominent, the tops pointed and folded slightly like a bat's. It stood tall and screeched at us, its cry cut short by a welcome shout from behind it.
"Hey!" Dean! Our hero! His face, dirtied from our misadventures, was briefly illuminated by the flare as he pulled the trigger before the fiery projectile struck the wendigo square in its bony chest, the flames burning into the hideous creature and consuming it from within. The passage lit up with the flames from the surprisingly flammable wendigo, Dean grinned at us from beyond the fire, "Not bad, huh?"
Hours later we had finally made it back to the Ranger's Station, I hadn't been kidding when I'd told Halley that I was better with maps than the boys. We might have been much later getting back if I hadn't found us a trail to follow that was relatively clear of trees overhead, keeping what little light remained to us as darkness fell. We'd reported our experiences, with much inaccuracy, to Ranger Wilkinson and he had called in the police and ambulances. Ben was busy telling the officer about the huge grizzlies that had attacked us as Tommy was loaded into the ambulance. I had hovered by his side, absorbing as much of his pain as I could, but the paramedic was now asking me to leave, and the pain killers they had given him were starting to kick in, so I returned to my brothers, leaning against the bonnet of the Impala.
"Man, I hate camping."
"Me too."
I disagreed with my brothers; there had been a few times, when we were little when we'd taken a sheet and made a funny little tent against a tree, taking all the pillows and blankets from the motel room to make a comfy little den. Dean had managed to find a lighter from somewhere and we gathered enough tinder to make a small fire, and we'd roasted marshmallows beneath the stars. After the first time, when Dad had been cross that we'd gotten the bedding dirty, and that Sammy had caught a cold, we'd been more careful. We'd used ground sheets, and I'd ensured that my baby bro was dressed as warm as could be, and then I cuddled him close all night. Those times were so simple.
"Sam, you know we're going to find Dad, right?"
"Yeah, I know, but in the meantime," Sammy turned to face us with a self-satisfied smirk, "I'm driving."
Dean seemed to consider this, while I tried to hide my amusement; Dean had offered to let Sam drive. Eventually he tossed the keys in the air and Sam caught them. We loaded up, and with a few revs of the engine, and a wide grin at our older brother, Sam pulled away from the lodge.
We didn't know where Dad was, we didn't know where our next stop would be, or where our journey would take us, but the three of us, driving down the road together, I just knew we'd make it somehow.
