Thanks to all who've been reading, I hope you're enjoying this. And of course the standard disclaimers.

Concha only half listened to Sam's polite answer to her question. She'd laid out their 'cover' story of them being archeology students for Bobby after all, but it gave her a few minutes to consider the two men. Bobby had clued her in on a few things about them, and the dynamics of their relationship, but she would have figured a lot out on her own pretty quickly. She had seen Dean step oh so casually between Sam and BJ, and the fact she'd taken Tug's bridle hadn't slipped past Dean. Ok, so the ghost crack might have been a bit out of line, but if one couldn't have fun, what was the point? And she knew damn well chain saws were used to kill vampires, so maybe that was a bit much too? Maybe things of that sort, hints, were too subtle. These were men. Men didn't do subtle. But she wanted them to tell her what they did. Not for her to just blurt out to them she knew about hunting. She wanted them to trust her enough to confide in her.

And she had two days to do it in. Peachy.

Dean was easy. Mildly aggressive, highly protective of his brother, with a major big brother complex she knew right away that once his ten thousand or so layers were peeled away underneath was a gentle soul with a heart of gold and desire to do what he saw was good. She knew all about Dean, cause hell, she had one of her very own. Dante. Dean she could handle. She had a sizable repertoire of little girl lost looks, and a bigger gun.

Sam might not be so easy. Ok, so they had the younger sibling thing, and love of debating finer points of some demon trivia no doubt. Her big brother referred to that as her being a geek. She'd be winging it in definitely new territory with Sam. Good thing she liked a challenge.

"Huh?" Concha turned to Dean, realizing a few seconds too late he'd asked her a question. She hoped it wasn't too important.

"How long will it take to get to the cabin?"

"I can get there by tonight. We won't be getting there till tomorrow evening, or maybe the following morning."

"How come?"

"Two trails up. And nobody who's not ever been on a horse has any business trying to ride one up the shorter, steeper one. My horses might get hurt. So, we're taking the scenic route, slower but a zillion times safer and easier. And I'm all about the easier."

"And your brother is ok with you riding for two days with two guys you don't even know?" Sam asked quietly.

Concha nodded a bit. "Bobby asked him and Dante asked me. They flew up there yesterday. But the plane only seats two. Besides, in about an hour neither of you will be able to move much from the riding. And since I can ride a lot better, I could get away, hell I'll be able to out-WALK you by lunch time. And if, perchance you did do something nasty to me. Well, I'd feel sorry for you. 'Cause there is no rock on this planet you'd be able to hide under. Dante would track you down, peel your skin off," she held up one finger, "which-by the way- he actually knows how to do. Pour kerosene, witch hazel, Mountain Dew….I don't know something very painful and stinging all over you. Then, he'd forget the foreplay and get mean." She had to turn her head back a bit to smile sweetly at Sam. "And these are MY horses."

"Your brother's name is Dante, as in…." Sam quickly changed the subject.

"Yes. As in that. My parents apparently had a perverse sense of humor." Name a demon hunter Dante, now that was just so wrong on so many levels.

"Is he a student too?" Dean asked.

"No. No he's not. He just flew Bobby up to the cabin. Why is it you need to go all the way up there again?"

"Extra credit." Dean gave her a slick smile.

"Graduate project." Rolling his eyes Sam offered a more reasonable excuse then changed the subject, "that saber is interesting." Concha didn't stop him.

Her attention momentarily drawn down to the old weapon laying comfortably under her thigh, she looked up, beaming. If there was anything other than her horses she was thrilled to show off it was her saber. Pulling it from the sheath, she held it so the point of the blade pointed up. "This is just the coolest thing I own." Concha checked herself, she was actually gushing. "Dante got this for me. It's an actual Civil War Cavalry saber. He had the inscription added," she turned it and held it out to Sam, not missing the fact that he handled it easily. The man had slung around a few swords himself she was sure. "He's really a sweet guy. And if you tell him I said that I'll run that saber through your heart."

Sam sort of stilled and Dean's horse was immediately urged forward, now nose to nose with her horse. Concha pretended not to notice. She pointed out the sentence near the base of the blade. That had Sam laughing, and the tension broke.

"Today is a good day to die." Sam had to laugh again. Now Dean was leaning over, honestly curious about the saber. Concha took it, and passed it along to Dean. He wasn't as easy with the weapon as his brother. Where Sam liked something he could swing, Dean liked to shoot.

"Worf's my hero." That had been a blatantly honest statement.

"He's one cool dude." Dean handed her back the saber.

Two more hours and Concha stopped them with the pretext of checking a map. She didn't need a map, she knew the way. But she was going to try one more hint. The look on Dean's face was beyond priceless when he saw the crude, handmade sign she'd attached to a tree more than a decade ago to give tourists a thrill. Made of wood, with letters burnt into it along with arrows pointing out directions and mileage she was surprised it still hung there. The man had barely regained his composure when Sam turned to see what momentarily addled his brother. Eyebrows shot up under his long, brown bangs and he actually snorted some sort of noise she was sure was supposed to sound like a cough. Ok, another dirty trick. Time to quit being subtle and coy and just fess up.

Listed on the sign was the words, Wendigos (50 miles south), Sashquash (arrow pointing down indicating 'you are here') and Aroks (18 miles north).

"I was fourteen when I put that up." Deep sigh. "Look guys," she glanced from one to the other, "I doubt Bobby has seen the inside of a classroom since the first part of the last century. I've seen the artwork on his ceiling, I know what the sigils on his walls mean and are for, and I know what this," before her hand could be moved away she grasped Dean's amulet and held it out, "is and what its purpose is. I grew up in these mountains, I've heard every damn legend. So why don't you just tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can point you in the right direction, you can kill it and we can get on with our lives?"

"Not sure what you're talking about." Sam said just so incredibly smoothly. "We told you, we're students, working on our thesis. But if you have some good legends to share, that'd be great."

Concha rubbed the back of her head. "Ok. Well for the record, there hasn't been a Wendigo around here for, I don't know, forty years, the Sashquash are mostly harmless, and the Aroks really are Indian legends and honestly don't exist."

"Really? Neither do Wendigos or Sashquash." Sam said mildly. "They're all just myths."

"M'k." She smiled politely, gave him a definite, unmistakable 'says you' look and got the horses moving again. That went over REALLY well.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Two hours more and Dean was glad they'd stopped for a break. He'd grown bored with Sam's constant questions about the horses, and why her saddle was different from theirs. And what sort of work did she and her brother do, which Dean noticed had never really been answered. The sun was already past zenith when Concha asked if they'd wanted to break for lunch. His stomach had been rumbling for a half hour or so and the clearing she chose for their break was a welcome sight indeed. He stretched and twisted side to side a bit. She had been so right, his back and legs were getting achy and crampy, he felt sluggish, stiff. Flicking his feet out of the stirrups he tried easing some of the kinks from his thighs.

Concha's horse stopped, she dropped the reins, feet coming free of her stirrups she leaned back a bit and swung her right leg over the horse's neck, dropping easily and lightly to the ground. Never missing a beat she started walking to Sam's horse, "hope you guys like roast beef?"

"Yeah, that sounds great!" Sam's tone told Dean he meant it too, and was probably just as hungry as Dean.

It was time to get the hell off this damn horse, Dean really needed to unbend his legs. And Concha made it look so damn easy, getting off the damn horse. Dean however landed, ungracefully, and loudly on the ground. Sam and Concha's conversation abruptly halted when they both looked over at him. Concha smiled for a second, then was at least nice enough to try looking nonchalant. Sam, the little bastard, just doubled over laughing. Should have killed the kid earlier in the week when he'd thought of it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my fault." Concha sort of wheezed out the words, really trying not to laugh. "I should have showed you the right way off the horse."

Dean had some snappy come back all ready, which flew right out of his head when her boots appeared on the ground in front of him. He ventured a glance up, she was holding out her hand to him. Yeah, right, like she could pull me up. But a few simple facts remained, he couldn't actually get up, his legs were that stiff. And it would be impolite, down right rude, just not nice (and Dean was always nice to women not possessed) to refuse her offer. Well, he'd help her out, and no one would be embarrassed. Except of course Sam, who's ass was going to get yanked off that horse just as soon as Dean could stagger over there. The sinister glare he directed at his brother just brought another fit of laughter. I'll have to remember to kill him slowly and painfully. Dean sighed, and grasped her hand.

"Ya know, I really don't want you to get hurt, cause I'm a lot heavier than……" his smooth speech stuttered, and he realized as she stepped one step back he was now looking down at her. "…….I look." And damn didn't it feel good to have his legs straight? He thought he heard his pelvis actually crack.

Sporting possibly the sweetest smile he'd seen yet from her, she patted both his shoulders, stepped back another few paces, cocked her head to one side, "handle it from here?"

"Absolutely." He let his duffle bag slide from his shoulders. "Thanks."

"Sure."

Sam had managed to get himself off his horse, and was now bracing against the animal, pretending to pet its neck. Dean walked stiffly passed, thinking one good shove and Sam would be on his happy, giggly ass. But then Dean would just have to scrape him off the ground, and frankly he was too achy for that. He settled on grumbling in Sam's ear, "As soon as I can move again, I'm going to kick your ass." He moved his shoulders in a circle, they hurt too.

"And when would that be?" Sam's comeback was good natured. "Next week?"

An hour later they were back on the horses, the trail definitely getting steeper with each passing mile. Before they'd restarted however, Dean quietly secured his weapons' bag to the back of the saddle. The sun was setting, and long shadows flowed across the ground. All day, every clearing they'd come to Dean had glanced at Sam, asking the unspoken question. Every time Sam's response was a bit of a shrug and just the barest shake of his head. If they'd traveled through the clearing of Sam's vision he didn't recognize it. Dean made sure to get off the horse the right way when they stopped for the night.

While Concha took care of the horses, he and Sam wandered a bit, stretching their legs and collecting wood for a fire. He'd grown very tired of trying to communicate with his brother using only glances and nods.

Just out of Concha's sight and hearing Sam stopped, one hand against a tree, the other against one thigh and did a couple of knee bends. "Ouuwww….I'd never have thought sitting on a horse would hurt so much."

"Yeah, makes you wonder why someone tried it a second time." Cracking his back, Dean looked around. "Anything familiar here Sammy?"

"Just the horses." Sam shrugged a bit, "but honestly, Dean, one clearing looks the same as the next." He straightened and rubbed the knot in his shoulders. He reached up and pulled a few loose branches from a tree. "Don't take them off the ground, they'll be too wet."

"I know dooffus." Dean shoved playfully against his brother's side with one shoulder.

Any retaliation from Sam was cut short when they heard a soft whoosh from the clearing Concha and the horses were in. FIRE!

"We shouldn't leave her alone." Dean started back to the clearing, Sam right behind him.

"Dean, I think we're the ones who shouldn't be left alone here."

Concha just looked up at them mildly when they appeared carrying a few small branches and looking worried. "Starter logs." She said simply when Dean's eyes fell on the very well burning fire. And she didn't seem to notice how his gaze narrowed for just the briefest time.

They cooked burgers, and Concha had come complete with the fixings for s'mores, which thrilled Sam to no end. Dean too, actually, but he wasn't going to really admit it. However managed to get two more than Sam did. Dean had no idea what time it was when he dozed off. The mountain air was very pleasant, he was dog tired and the camp fire glowed warm and steady. Camping out wasn't such a bad thing after all, maybe he and Sam should do this just for fun once and a while. A few beers, some burgers and s'mores….maybe some fishing….yeah, they'd do that….it'd be fun.

One minute Dean was happily dreaming about beer, trout and s'mores (ick!) and the next he was literally wrenched from sleep by screaming. In the first few seconds he'd thought, more out of habit than anything, it was Sam having a nightmare. Yeah, like one he's never had before, 'cause he's never screamed like that! The next two seconds had him on his feet, knife in hand, realizing it couldn't possibly be Sam, because no human ever made such a sound, then praying it wasn't Sam possessed or some stupid shit. Something moved to his right, he swung in that direction and froze. The movement next to him registered. It was familiar, not possessed, long-limbed and looking decidedly freaked.

Another scream, but it was impossible to tell from which direction it came. Then a soft, most assuredly human groan. Sam must have had the same thought at the same time because just as Dean pivoted around, his brother did the same thing. Toward the sound of a female voice.

Concha sat up in her bedroll. Knees bent, elbows resting on them, chin against her palms, watching the brothers. She shook her head a bit, reaching up with one hand and brushing it through her long hair before returning to her original position.

Another scream.

Concha flopped back on her back, craned her head back and hollered, "Shut… the HELL….. UP!"

Another scream.

Concha blew out a disgusted breath. "I hate when they do that." She motioned to Dean's knife. "You actually think a knife would be helpful?"

"Whaaaa….???" Smooth Dean, real smooth.

Another huffed out sigh. "That, or rather they," she held up one finger, "would be the Sashquash that doesn't exist, except in myth. It's mating season. Or the kids are fighting again, I don't know. Oh, sit down and relax. They're VEGITARIAN, and unless one steps on you, 'cause they aren't called Big Foot for nothing, and weigh like a eleventy-million pounds, they're harmless. Just freakin' noisy! They smell bad too."

It took a full minute for the complete meaning of her words to register in Dean's head. He glanced at Sam, who was a bit pale, hands balled in fists, body tense looking like a coiled serpent ready to strike. Dean imagined he didn't look much different.

"And sticking one with a knife would be sort of like poking it with a toothpick."

Dean took a few big, deep breaths, and put the knife away. "Well that's just gonna get annoying if they keep that up all night." Behind him Sam laughed softly, a small, shaky laugh. It was then he noticed the horses had barely moved, and were dozing again.

"They'll quite in a bit." Concha poked at the fire, then rolled to the side and snatched a water bottle.

"I'm going to take a quick look around." Dean retrieved a flashlight and small canister from his bag, "I'll be right back." He would have certainly liked to have Sam come with him, but there was no way either of them would leave Concha sitting alone until they were convinced she was safe. Sam would also know Dean had another motive of laying down a ring of salt. He didn't go far, and could hear their voices, knowing Sam was purposely engaging her in conversation so Dean would hear, and know they were doing ok. A comforting life-line of contact.

Returning to the camp he glanced briefly at Concha, who hadn't moved from her spot, then his eyes flicked to Sam. His brother had stretched out on the opposite side of the fire from Concha. To anyone else he would look relaxed propped on his elbows, almost casual. But Dean knew better. A brief glance between them went totally unnoticed by Concha who was now gazing up at the stars. Sam's eyes met his, and Dean saw some of the tenseness replaced by relief. They both relaxed by slow degrees. Sam's gaze shifted periodically between Dean's and the sky. Cause Concha was pointing things out and Sam, Dean could tell, even wound up and tense as he was, was also interested in what she was saying. "You're such a geek." Dean muttered, probably only Sam heard him, as he settled himself on the ground in a position that put him between his brother and the fire, and Concha.

Dean studied her. She was looking up at the myriad of bright points in the sky. There were far more visible out here than closer to the cities, what he was used to. He couldn't pick out much. That's what she was doing, tracing constellations with her finger. Now that Dean had returned she had Sam's full attention. She seemed oblivious to the fact Dean watched her, almost carefully, purposefully oblivious. She was a nice woman, he liked her, more to the point he wanted to like her. There was something about her that niggled at the back of his brain. Concha seemingly was harmless. On the other hand she was far too comfortable with screaming monsters in the night and jokes about Wendigos. And sweet lord she had enough guns for all of them! Without warning Sam shifted positions behind him, sitting up straighter, knees now bent, forearms draped across. That was Sam in full attention to what she was saying mode. Dean's own attention snapped to her, curious to what was alerting his brother so.

"And that one there," she pointed to a group of stars. It was the tone of her voice Dean realized that had captured Sam's undivided attention. "That's my favorite. There's the belt, those three stars, and they point down to Sirius, the dog star. Those up there, the shoulders, and that one is Betelgeuse." Concha smiled softly. "Orion, the hunter."

Dean's attention was completely on her now too. There was something way she said the word 'hunter', softly, lovingly?

"I bet you didn't know that in most of the world's major civilizations that particular grouping of stars is basically the same thing?" She didn't wait for a response. "Guardian, protector, hunter…the chaser away of all things evil." Her eyes slid, for the briefest second to Dean and Sam, then back up to the sky.

Dean ventured a glance back at Sam, and his opinion of Concha did a complete one-eighty. He owed her, he owed her big time. She had, in one simple, heartfelt, honest statement driven home to his brother what he'd been trying to get across for years. A pride he'd thought he'd lost swelled in his chest and for the first time in a very long time he felt good about what he did. There were people he and Sam helped, people who appreciated what they'd done, people who said Thank You! He knew sort of all of a sudden she had seen, at some point in her life, the things that went bump in the night. She knew what they were, or at least what some of them were. And someone had helped. Someone like him and Sam. Hunter. The chaser away of all things evil. Dean liked that, he'd have to remember that! She knew exactly what he and Sam where, and yes, they did sometimes see ghosts and play inappropriately with chain saws.

Leaning forward a bit, Dean took a deep breath. Time to come clean. "We're not students." When Sam sucked in a breath Dean dropped his hand onto his brother's ankle, pressing his thumb in just a bit. The gesture got him exactly what he knew it would, Sam's trusted silence.

"Really?" Concha asked mildly.

"And we don't know exactly why Bobby wanted us to go to that cabin. He said he'd fill us in on everything when we got there. A, ah, bit of a job to do."

Then she dropped the next bombshell, and he thought maybe he should bottle a few of these gems for the next time Sam got pissy on him about hunting. There was no two ways around it, she was definitely getting points across, and she didn't have to use the sledge hammer Dean generally did.

"Meet with Bobby and my brother. He, my brother, he's a hunter too."

Another glance back at Sam, because Dean thought maybe his kid brother had stopped breathing he was so quiet and still, told him she'd hit an even deeper chord with Sam. Wasn't so much the two words in the same sentence, brother, hunter, it was the tone she'd used. It wasn't a bad thing to her, she admired it. A brother, Dean realized, for whom she'd travel up the side of a mountain with two strangers for, just because he'd said it was important. A brother she'd follow through the gates of hell if he'd asked….or even if he didn't. Sam's gaze dragged to Dean, for once Dean wasn't quite sure what he saw in there, but it was good, very good, whatever it was. It made him feel good again. He gave Sam's leg a gentle squeeze before leaning back, arms folded under his head.

It was how it happened then. They came to an understanding, the three of them. The beginnings of friendship cemented.

"Good night." Concha rolled over, snuggled down into her bedroll and smiled to herself. She had done what she was pretty sure no one else had done before, and might not likely do again.

She left Dean Winchester speechless.