Endless Road to Rediscover
Part 2: Wendigo
Chapter 4: Saving People, Hunting Things; The Family Business
"So, umm, iron is good against ghosts. Silver is good against werewolves, skinwalkers, shifters. Holy water is…?"
Sam trailed off, looking nervously up at Dean. They were seated in a diner in some Nevada by way town. It'd been a week before Sam had been well enough to move to a different motel, farther away from Jericho, and another week of healing. He was still pale and his breathing wasn't back to normal yet.
"Demons mainly, but honestly you see maybe a few demon possessions every year, at the most. But holy water works pretty well against anything supernatural, use it a lot to clean out wounds."
Sam nodded, eyes wide with hero worship. Two weeks of recovery with Sam had allowed them to bond in a weird way. Sam had talked some, but mainly Dean had tended to Sam and then relaxed next to him watching reruns of tv shows. Dean had promised Sam a good education in entertainment, all facets. So far he was succeeding in the movie and tv area, Sam's introduction to Metallica and AC/DC so far hadn't been faring as well. The kid didn't complain, in fact he claimed he liked it, but the strange way his face quirked when the music came on let Dean know that the kid didn't like it.
"You're doing good Sammy."
Sam grinned at the praise. "It's Sam." He said, clear pleasure at the nickname shining through his affected tone of annoyance.
Dean flicked a salt packet at Sam and felt himself smile as both Sam's indignance and happy look grew.
"Whatever, bitch."
Sam's smile fell off his face and he seemed to shrink back. Dean felt guilt well up immediately and he tried to rescue the situation.
Dean nudged Sam's foot under the table and whipped his head to the side, eyes widening in false shock. "What is that?!"
Sam fell for it and his head was turning to the side to see what Dean was referring to. Dean took the opportunity to drag Sam's plate toward him and begin digging into the half-eaten fries. Sam looked back over and his face filled with realization and then anger.
"You-you stole my food, you jerk." Sam faltered right after he finished, alarm filling his eyes as though Dean would punish him for insulting him.
Dean just smiled toothily and stuffed another fry in his mouth, eyes conveying warmth despite his bullshit grin. Sam read the unsaid 'it's okay' and the smile came back to his face.
Sam was so afraid of abandonment that Dean could feel the fear radiating off him every time he did something which he thought Dean didn't like. It hurt Dean to think that the kids opinion of him was so low, but a part of Dean sensed that it had less to do with Dean and more to do with the kids previous situation. The most he could do was let the kid know he wasn't leaving, God knew Dean had his own issues with feeling abandoned. Having Sam around was a nice distraction from the anger and hurt Dean felt toward his father, something to keep him busy and occupied. That was probably the reason why John had left Dean the strange instructions.
Sam's supposed connection with the demon that had killed Dean's mother was something that nagged at Dean's mind. So far there hadn't been anything different or extraordinary about the kid, nothing demonic or angelic that would indicate that he was somehow a key to taking the demon down. John however did everything for a purpose, and despite all the issues Dean had with his dad, he let nothing stand in the way of his dad when it came to trusting him in hunting matters. John not remembering to get clothes that fit Dean when he was a kid, definitely; John screwing up on a hunt, nigh impossible.
One thing was for sure, Sam was growing on him and though in denial of even the thought, Sam was quickly working his way into becoming a real part of his family.
"So, how do you find out that you need to hunt things? Do people tell you?"
Dean grinned in anticipation of putting Sam through the same torture he had endured when he was a kid, reasearch.
"Most people don't have an inkling of an idea about the supernatural, let alone who to turn to for help. Pretty much every hunt we take on is found by us through research or by another hunter doing the same thing."
Sam frowned as he placed the burger he'd been about to take a bite from back on the plate. He'd snatched his plate back from Dean who had given it up since Sam was a few pounds from being a skeleton.
"Research?"
Dean's grin widened. He couldn't wait to introduce Sam to the horror and boredom that was research.
"Looking stuff up, usually we-hunters that is-follow news, police reports, the like, for crazy stories or unexplainable stuff. If any of it looks like the M.O. of a monster, we check it out. From there we head to the place to snoop around and figure it out. Once we know where and what the monster is, we kill it."
"Oh," Sam said, frown fading to be replaced by a look of comprehension, "like research for a school project, when you want to know about something particular."
Dean shrugged, he didn't remember much about school projects or school in general. "Sure, yeah."
"So, is that what we're going to do next?"
Dean swallowed his half chewed bite of burger. "Do what?"
"Research."
Dean shook his head. "No, I've already found where we're going next."
Sam nodded, going back to eating. He didn't ask, but Dean could tell the kid was curious.
"We're going to Lost Creek, Colorado."
Sam still looked curious but still kept his mouth shut. Dean had pondered the coordinates his dad had left, mind racing with what they could mean. After looking them up and finding out that they were a point in the middle of nowhere Colorado in a friggin' national forest, Dean had been disappointed. The hunter part of him had him looking up articles of Lost Creek and those had revealed that a number of people had gone missing along an area called Blackwater ridge, not many, at least not many recently. It added up to nearly thirty people over a 69 year period of time, eight people every twenty three years. Dean smelled a hunt, but he was still confused as to why his dad was sending him on hunts in such a confusing and covert way.
Letting out a soft sigh, Dean stood, shortly followed by Sam as they made their way out of the diner. Soon they were headed down the interstate, Colorado their destination.
Dean could never recall having travelled so slowly, his dad had always been raring to eat up the miles, many times driving an entire day and only pulling over to nap for a few hours. Dean however, didn't want to push Sam, not with the kid barely recovering from pneumonia. John, though he loved Dean, had been negligent in his interest in Dean's basic welfare.
Currently they were just south of Provo, parked on a dirt road off of 191. Dean was giving Sam his first lesson in firing a firearm, the last couple nights Dean had spent showing Sam the parts of the gun, how to load, clean, assemble and disassemble his Taurus. Sam had, surprisingly, picked it up pretty quick. The shooting however was not going well.
Sam was shaking just from having the safety off. After the second wild shot, Dean had intervened. A calm hand was placed on Sam's shoulder and Dean was then guiding Sam's hands, speaking calm and gentle. The next shot was less wild, more sure, but it still didn't hit the target and that was all Sam saw.
Seeing the way the failure (in Sam's eyes at least) was affecting Sam, Dean took the Taurus and went back over to the Impala to pull out a sawed off. It was probably the gun he should've started off with, with a wider spread and more practical with non-lethal rounds of salt for an inexperienced user. In fact it was the first sawed off he had made, with a cylinder choke it had a wide spread, meaning the user wouldn't need good aim. With only salt filled rounds from non-metal casings the recoil was next to nothing because of mass.
As Dean offered the gun to Sam, he hesitated, remembering the pride he'd felt about the weapon. He'd always imagined it would be a gift for his younger brother to teach him with. His heart constricted and he had to make himself take his next breath. Sam was looking up at him, eyes wide again with that awe and wonder which made Dean feel like he was better than what he was, and Sam reached out to tenuously take hold of the gun. Dean had no doubt that Sam had seen the micro expression that had flitted across his face, the kid had proved to be extremely observant, and Dean smiled reassuringly. Sam's grip tightened and Dean began explaining how to use the single shot baikal.