Chapter 2: A House in the Hills
After a short drive out of the main street the town became significantly hillier. The road snaked along through fields and trees until it crested over a large valley.
"Suburbia ahead." Sam dryly quipped, glancing at the large sign announcing "New Phase This Summer" for some neighborhood he couldn't be bothered to read. The road followed the edge of the valley for a short portion before opening up into a large suburban neighborhood. What looked to be well over a hundred two-story homes were arranged in neat rows and cul-de-sacs below them. A sea of beige and tan vinyl glistened in the late afternoon sun.
After a series of left turns through the maze of conformity, Mike eventually pulled the Camaro into the driveway of a brick colonial with blue shutters. He opened the garage door and parked the car inside. Dean parked curbside.
"Nice car! What is that, a 68?" A middle aged man called from across the street.
"It's a 67. Close though." Dean opened the door and began to stand up, Sam meanwhile had gotten out and had raised an eyebrow in disbelief as the man waddled over to get a closer look. He was as stereotypical a suburbanite as possible. He wore a yellow polo shirt, navy cargo shorts, and a pair of socks with sandals. He also appeared sunburnt, but didn't seem to mind.
"She is a beaut!" He looked up to Mike, "I don't know where you all find each other, but I swear every one of your friends must have a classic."
"Well, in this case they're my cousins, so I guess good taste is genetic."
The man laughed as Mike led Dean and Sam inside. "I hope you guys don't mind my lying, I just figure it would be easier to pass you off as family than have someone else see through your badges." Mike paused smirking, "If you guys want to wait down here I have my stuff upstairs, I'll bring some of it down. Feel free to grab a drink from the fridge-but leave the Pediasure- Avery hates the stuff but he has to drink it."
Mike gestured toward the kitchen, then walked up the staircase from the foyer, leaving Dean and Sam to explore the house. Dean immediately went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Behind the apple juice and Pediasure he found a few beers, scratch that, a few light beers. Well, it was better than nothing. He found a bottle opener attached to the side of the fridge and opened up a bottle. It was flat, but it certainly wasn't the worst beer he'd drank in the last month. That dubious honor went to a skunked out bottle he mistakenly left in the trunk for a few too many hot days.
Sam decided to try to make himself comfortable in the living room. It was at the front of the house and appeared to be more of a playroom than a living room, in all honesty. There were legos, hot wheels, and toy trains scattered throughout the room. The coffee table was covered in crayons and construction paper. Clearly there was at least one kid in the family. A photograph above the fireplace confirmed his suspicion, there was a family portrait with Mike and two boys-one he guessed was Avery. On the wall next to it was a family tree.
Dean came in a minute later holding a few beers. "Want one? They're light beers, but I guess it's better than nothing." Sam shrugged and took a beer. "Could you ever imagine living like this? I mean, the guy seems happy but I don't think I could ever handle the monotony of this…" Dean gestured out the window as the same neighbor from earlier stood taking pictures on his phone of the Impala.
Sam didn't seem to be paying much attention; instead he looked at the family tree. For some reason one of the names sounded familiar. How the hell did he know a Dave Campbell? Before he could ask Dean Mike came into the room carrying a stack of notebooks.
"This is everything I've got. Most of it is mine, but some is adapted from the stuff my dad wrote when he still lived around here. We're pretty sure the thing in the woods is a wendigo, but it's not exactly easy to get someone to hunt one of those things… they have a reputation of being tricky to put down." Mike sat down in an easy chair, brushing off some of the crayons first. "You guys are hunters, right?"
"How did you know that?" Sam asked, nervously eyeing Dean.
"Well, for one thing you didn't think I was crazy-and neither of you seem nuts either. Plus my family's been working with them for a long time. My dad settled down here because he knew there was plenty of work to keep busy without having to leave home. For some reason the area around here is a hotbed for the supernatural. I'm pretty sure that the Native Americans jinxed the land somehow, but there isn't enough evidence to support my guess."
Mike glanced at Sam and Dean, reading that they didn't entirely trust him. "Let me guess, you want to make sure I'm not possessed and not just screwing with you before I decide to pin you to the wall and make like Ed Gein." He sighed, opening his arms out into a t-pose."Go ahead, spritz me."
"If you insist." Dean pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket and splashed Mike in the face. He simply blinked and began wiping off his glasses.
"And as for the silver, my wedding band is silver." He held up a hand with a wedding ring on it. "Now, if you trust I'm not a shapeshifter or demon, may I continue?"
"Sorry, just had to be thorough." Dean grinned, awkwardly.
"Yes, I suppose. Anyway, my father worked a day job at the plant in town and at night he hunted. Taught me most of what he knew, but refused to let me hunt. Said it'd ruin me. So I ended up going to school, getting a job, mortgage, my slice of suburban normalcy." He frowned, "Well, it was until everything went sideways. After my parents moved away and Wendy died I was in a dark place. I tried to start hunting on my own but all it got me was beat within an inch of my life. I'm not cut out for it, and because hunters aren't exactly in the yellow pages I wasn't able to get any help to take care of the stuff happening."
"What about all the guys your dad worked with? Surely they would've been willing to help." Sam asked, turning from the family tree to face Mike.
"If they were alive, maybe. Last time I checked all but one of them was dead, and the one alive was in a super-max because he got caught on camera killing a werewolf who'd just been turned."
Mike flipped to a list of hunters in the back of an old maroon notebook and held it out for Sam and Dean to see. All but one were crossed off.
Dean looked at the list, some of the names were familiar, others totally foreign. At the bottom of the list was a single name under the header, "In Case of Emergency", J. Winchester.