Chapter 2: Killing and Time:

"I swear to God if we're stuck behind this Desoto for another minute I'm gonna get out and make sure they get a piece of my mind." Dean muttered as he angrily glared at the red and white station-wagon in front of them. The brothers had left Pennsylvania and were taking Route 17 into New York, but had been stuck behind a particularly slow driver for the better part of half an hour. Unfortunately with the constant traffic there hadn't been time to pass, meaning that the two had been stuck as the second car in a line of nearly twenty following the elderly drivers in front of them. The wagon flicked on its turn signal as it rounded the bend ahead and finally disembarked, allowing Dean-and the row of cars piled up behind him-to finally go above thirty miles per hour.

"Finally!" He cheered and pushed the accelerator down as the traffic cleared. A few minutes later he glanced over at Sam who was busily making notes on a legal pad as he flipped through the research he'd been compiling on their current case. "So Poindexter, mind filling me in on some more of the details on the hunt?"

Sam rolled his eyes as he pushed up his glasses-while he might look a bit nebbish with the coke bottle frames in reality he was stronger than Dean at most things, though his brother refused to let him live down his book smarts-and huffed, "John Keller, age 34, of Rockwell, New York was last seen with his truck at the edge of State Gameland 43. He was reported missing after three days when he failed to show up for church on Sunday. He's the fifth person to disappear from Rockwell in the last month. All the victims disappeared in or near the gamelands, and while they are disappeared their belongings are usually found untampered with."

Dean raised a corner of his mouth as he thought, "It's not close to the new moon, so it isn't a werewolf. What do you think, maybe a pack of vamps?"

"No. I think it might be a wendigo. I called the Rockwell Historical Society, they had records going back nearly a century and it looks like there were major disappearances every twenty-six years. The biggest group was back in 1906 when an entire hunting lodge was found deserted except for a woman who'd been sleeping off a hangover beside the fireplace in one of the upstairs bedrooms while everyone else had been in the main hall downstairs. She claimed she saw something that looked like a hairless bear dragging away one of her friends when she looked out the window, but by the time she arrived it had disappeared."

"Sounds like a wendigo." Dean commented, "Which means this thing is going to be an absolute bitch to kill."

"Well, it isn't the first one, that one in Maine back when dad was around was a nightmare, but we still took care of it." Sam shrugged as he shuffled the papers back into the manila envelope he was holding.

"True, and this time we actually brought enough flares." Dean nodded toward the trunk where the brothers had thirty flares and two flare guns.

"Here's hoping it actually ends up not being a total disaster this time." Sam muttered as he took a sip of Diet Rite.

**SPN**

After a three hour hike into the wilderness-during which Sam tripped and momentarily lost his glasses and Dean proceeded to laugh while refusing to help, which was swiftly paid back by a kick to the groin-the brothers set up a tent and fire at the campsite that three of the five missing people had used. They then set about tracing the anasazi symbols around the campsite, then watched as the sun began to set.

"These things always creep me out." Sam stated as he added another log to the fire. "They're strong, fast, and they mostly hunt at night. Plus they're smart. It's a royal shaft going against them."

"Yeah, it's not exactly a walk in the park." Dean paused as Sam pulled a patented bitchface-really?-"Okay, so maybe it is a literal walk in the park, but still…" He trailed off as he heard a rustle in the undergrowth not too far away.

He nodded slightly to indicate the noise before continuing talking as if they were unaware of the new presence lurking in the shadows beyond the edge of the campsite, "You got a church key?" Dean held up a beer.

"Yeah, gimme a sec. It's in the tent." Sam opened the canvas flap and disappeared into the tent. Dean stood up and walked a slight distance from the fire.

"Hey, you mind getting some more wood?" Sam's voice rang out. "We could use some."

"Sure." Dean shouted back. He turned toward the wood pile and started to walk as he heard a slight rustle.

"Gotcha." He smiled as Sam burst out of the tent and sent a flare over to the wood pile where a crouching wendigo had been lurking, hoping that its ventriloquism would've given it a late-night snack. It screeched as the flare shot into its torso and burned a bright hole. As its face contorted in anguish its body ignited and was soon nothing but a pile of ash.

Dean turned to his brother who had returned the flare gun to his holster. "Nice shot tex."

"Even though you were navy dad still made sure we practiced." Sam smiled as he handed Dean a can opener, "I had to get good or else he'd've threatened to ship me out."

Dean chuckled, "I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have taken anyone as scrawny as you."

"They took you." Sam joked as he punched open his can, "And I might've been a small kid, but look who's the big one now."

Dean huffed, "Whatever attack of the 50 foot brother. I'm still the one with the medal of honor."

"And while we're all quite proud of you sinking that plane before it managed to destroy your aircraft carrier, it's been fifteen years. You're gonna have to come up with a better response to arguments you can't win one of these days." Sam took a swig as Dean pulled out and subsequently polished the pin he always kept inside his shirt pocket. His brother was tremendously proud of the medal, and while normally a relatively humble person it was one of the few things he used to make sure he got his way. Probably to have a fighting chance after learning that my puppy dog eyes are nearly impossible to beat.

"Nope. There's no argument I can't win, and besides it's a guaranteed girl magnet." He smirked as he put it back into his shirt pocket.

Sam sighed as the two continued chatting. He was glad to have Dean back. It had been over a decade since the war had ended, but being constantly worried your brother was going to die fighting in the Pacific against a kamikaze was something that took a while to get over. Especially when your father dies while you're still in high school. Hunting might not be an easy life, but it was a helluva lot easier when you have family with you.