Before we begin, I'd like to say how grateful I am for all the messages of support you sent. Those who didn't sign in when they wrote, I'm sorry I couldn't reply to you individually, but I hope you read this message.

Secondly, (to stop me getting into trouble with anyone else!) please note, this story is following the plotline to the Supernatural episode Wendigo. It doesn't belong to me. But I have added bits and pieces in to spice things up and populate the world of the Tracy brothers.

Enjoy!

The owner of a nearby diner had been part of the crowd, wakened from a slow afternoon by the sounds of the cars. As Virgil moved forwards, he gripped his arm, dropping his voice and ignoring the curious glances thrown their way.

"You can bring him into the diner, son," he offered kindly. "It's warm and it's quiet, and I can stop people from following."

Virgil gave him a quick once over, judging the honesty of the man. He was late fifties, grey and moustached, smaller than any of the full grown Tracy's and right now, the only option other than the SUV. Virgil nodded gratefully, going to Scott, who held the sobbing child in his arms in tight fear. Virgil was relieved when the owner didn't follow him. Alan was babbling about a monster and a dead man and blood on his hands.

Virgil swallowed, grimacing. Whatever Alan had seen, it obviously wasn't pretty. Scott was rubbing his back, trying to hush him and speaking softly, but Virgil could see the cracks in his older brother's control.

"Diner," he said, indicating the building with a nod of his head, "owner's clearing the place out."

Scott nodded absently, his attention focused on Alan. The boy's tears were stopping, but he remained huddled in his brother's arms. When Scott tried to stand, Alan simply clung to him. Scott shared an anxious glance with John.

"Did the car hit him?" he demanded quietly, lifting Alan and standing with Virgil's help.

John shook his head. "I stopped it. He's probably just in shock."

Virgil glanced from Scott to the diner, judging the distance. "Want me to take him?"

Scott felt Alan tighten his arms around him. "I got him."

He slipped one arm under the boy's knees, the other remaining around his trembling shoulders. It was undignified, but it was easier to carry him this way and more comfortable for Alan than a fireman's carry. The diner's owner hurried ahead of them, opening the door wide for Scott and his precious burden, shouting at the two locals who'd been unconcerned with the commotion outside to take their burgers and get going.

"Go on, go on," he urged. "You can bring the plate back later, Jerry. Mike, just take the damn burger, would you?"

Flapping at them like an excited goose, he herded them out the door. The men, to be fair to them, didn't look as put out as they maybe ought to have and John surmised they had quite possibly been through an evacuation of the diner before. Shutting the door and switching the sign to closed, the man then hurried back to where Scott was sliding into a booth, Alan refusing to let go of him and almost climbing into his lap.

"I'll make him a cup of tea," the man offered. "Nice and sweet, good for shock."

"Thank you," Virgil replied. "For everything."

The man left and the Tracy boys focused once more on their brother. Alan wasn't crying anymore, and he had stopped babbling, but he didn't seem to want to meet any of their concerned gazes either, his head buried in Scott's shoulder.

"Allie?" Scott began, his tone one of deep love and reassurance. "Talk to us."

"I'm sorry," Alan mumbled, his voice low and hoarse from crying. "I'm sorry I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid," Gordon told him sincerely. "You had a bad scare, anyone would be rattled."

"You wouldn't cry," Alan sniffed, looking up finally.

Scott ran the back of his hand over Alan's cheek, then pressed it against his forehead. "You've a slight temperature, kiddo. You're not feeling too good, right?"

Alan nodded miserably.

"It probably went a long way in making you more upset," Scott soothed. "Nothing to worry about, okay?"

Alan nodded again, but didn't look convinced.

John glanced quickly in the direction the owner of the diner and gone, but could see no one. "Tell us."

Alan lifted his eyes worriedly. "It was dark. There was something with me, something fast. I don't know what, I didn't get a good look. And … and something else."

"Do you know what?" Virgil asked, but Alan shook his head.

"No. Then I saw a man with a lantern and I had blood on my hands. I think …" Alan shivered. When he spoke again, it was a whisper. "I think it was his."

Scott moved to wrap his arm around him again, and Alan gripped him, hard. "I don't want to do this anymore! I don't want this!"

"Allie," Scott began, but his brother dug his fingers in harder.

"Make it stop. Please, Scotty, I just don't want to see any more."

Scott stared into the blue eyes, so like his own and it broke his heart to shake his head. "I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I just don't know how."

Alan pushed him away, angry. "I don't want it!"

"Hey," John quickly jumped in. "Come here, kiddo. You're reacting to something else, I think."

"Us?" Virgil asked.

John glanced at Scott. "Perhaps."

Scott allowed John to take Alan from him, sliding back out from the booth and fighting for calm. Alan was an empath and right now his control was stretched to breaking point. It had happened before, after visions. Alan literally absorbed everything around him, abilities fluctuating and it was important that his stimuli radiated calm. Scott was anything but.

For a moment he watched Alan talk quietly with John, the older blond lifting his thoughts to better enable him to understand Alan's frightened, angry reactions. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and headed for the back room, away from Alan's sight. He took a moment to steady his nerves, leaning his forearm against the wall and his head against it. He shut his eyes and strived for calm. Without turning, he knew someone had followed him.

"I'm drowning, Virgil. I can't help him and I can't stand to watch him suffer."

Virgil gripped his brother's arm supportively. "You can do this."

"How? How do I stop something I can't understand?"

"The same way you got Gordon through the monsters under the bed."

"This isn't a nightmare, Virge, it's real," Scott replied, turning to face his brother. "Whatever he's seen is out there and it's killing people."

"The principle's the same," Virgil insisted stubbornly. "Treating it like something he should fear isn't going to help him."

"He should fear it."

Virgil shook his head. "Not in a vision. I asked John to research them as best he could. He doesn't think anything in a vision can hurt Alan."

Scott took a moment to think. "How sure is he?"

"About 92 percent." The elder two boys turned to see John had joined them. "Alan's asking for you. Both of you. He's calmed down and thinking something big, but I can't get a lock on it."

"All right." Scott motioned Virgil to go ahead, but stopped John when he went to follow. "You need to be able to lock this thing down, Johnny. There's gonna be times in extreme situations when I need to know what everyone's thinking."

John clenched his jaw momentarily, but let it go. "I know. I'm on it."

"Good," Scott sighed. He took a calming breath and pressed all his anxiety down, hard. Clapping John on the shoulder, he forced a smile onto his face. "I know it's not easy, especially with me pushing you."

"But it's important," John agreed, giving his brother a smile. "I know."

They moved back into the other room. Scott nudged his brother. "92 percent?"

John laughed. "I can't help it. Numbers are easy. It's actually 92.357 percent, give or take."

"And the boys call me a control freak."

"Captain Control Freak, actually."

They joined everyone else at the table, the owner disappearing once again after setting down a pot of coffee, mugs and Alan's tea. He gently ruffled Alan's hair on his way past and shut the door to the back room.

"What have you got for us, Sprout?" John asked, opening the conversation.

Alan didn't connect with any of his brother's eyes, but his pale face was set, determined. "We need to see what that thing was."

Whatever Scott had expected, it wasn't that. He took his time to answer. "Why do you think that, Alan?"

It was said in utter seriousness, an invitation to convince the others and an old strategy of Scott's. It enabled them to share everything they wanted and for Scott to show he was listening and would agree, if only he had a good reason. The Tracy boys watched Alan take a deep breath, gearing up for a debate.

"Something's out there and it's hurting people," he began, small face frowning in concentration. "I didn't feel it before, I didn't want to, but there's a bad feeling. People are … uneasy."

It wasn't a word Scott associated with Alan's vocabulary, meaning he was feeding off the people of the town. He sat back, folding him arms and waiting for more.

"They're not scared though," Alan continued.

"Probably don't even realise they are uneasy," Gordon noted and Virgil nodded.

Scott privately agreed, but spoke to Alan. "What else?"

"We need – I need – to know why that man came to me. It's not just being nosy," Alan insisted, looking up for the first time. "I want to help him."

Scott was silent a moment. "You realise if we stay he'll likely contact you again?"

"Yeah," Alan agreed, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. "I know. But it was horrible and I can't leave him like that."

Virgil caught Scott's eye and the elder boy read the meaning behind the gaze. This was new. Alan didn't like visions and he certainly didn't feel compelled to help the subjects of them, the Welch kids aside.

"What else?" Scott asked again.

Alan scrunched his face up, a sign he was going to say something that they wouldn't really like. "It could have Dad."

"What?" Gordon's question was more of a yelp and John seemed to jump slightly. Alan rushed on.

"I didn't see him! But what if that thing's got him and he's … asleep or something? John wouldn't be able to feel him, right? And Gordon couldn't translocate to him, could he?"

A small silence followed. Finally, John shifted.

"I could read his thoughts if he was dreaming," he said. Alan sighed and fiddled with his mug.

"Great."

"If he was unconscious, however," John continued, "I doubt I'd be able to. They're two different states of mind."

Scott glanced at his red headed brother. "Gordy?"

"I dunno, I've never tried," the teen shrugged. "Don't know anyone who makes a habit of knocking themselves out."

Scott shot him a look, extending it to Virgil when he snickered. Eventually he turned back to Alan.

"You said yourself, this place is all we've got," Alan reminded him quietly.

"I know," Scott agreed. "All right. I'll agree with you. Virge?"

The big brunette lifted one shoulder laconically. As if there was any doubt, his body language suggested. Scott glanced at John and Gordon, who both readily agreed.

"Okay," he said. "Virgil, John, get over to the local ranger's office. See what you can stir up."

"The ranger?" Gordon asked.

"Seems like the local hotspot," Scott justified. "He'll know of anything suspicious."

The ranger's office looked to Virgil like a cabin. The walls and furniture were wood, maps and photo's adorned every available inch of space. Staring up at a picture of a particularly large bear, Virgil wondered aloud if maybe a grizzly was what Alan had seen.

"You think Yogi's moved on from picnic baskets?" John asked.

"Something like that."

"Can I help you, boys?"

As one, the Tracy's turned to face the ranger, a balding man with an efficient, business-like air about him.

"I hope so," John enthused. "We're writing a thesis, wondered if you could answer some questions."

The ranger stared at him. "No."

John shot Virgil a worried look. "No?"

"No. You're wondering if I'll give you information. Friends of that Hayley girl, right?"

Without waiting for a reply, the ranger turned from them. John gave his brother another look, one that clearly said 'we're losing him'.

"You're right," Virgil agreed quickly, causing the ranger to snort in contempt. "Well, sort of. My brother's a friend of Hayley's and he'd rather not be, if you see what I mean?"

Virgil moved closer to the man, tucking one hand behind his back and waving it wildly at John. The blond didn't need to be a mind reader to work out what he meant, and started to zero in on the ranger's thoughts.

"What the hell did you hope to gain by coming here?" the sheriff demanded of him. "She's already wasted enough of my time."

Virgil answered. "Come on, man, you've been there, right? When you'd do anything to impress a girl?"

"What of it?"

"He just thought if he could help her out …" Virgil left the suggestion hanging.

The ranger snorted again, this time in amusement.

"I know she's making too much of it," Virgil continued, "but he's got this puppy dog look and it was making me ill. I promised to come with him, and came up with the story just to give myself some peace."

The ranger looked resigned, obviously buying what Virgil was selling. Virgil pressed home.

"Look, I'm sorry for wasting your time. Him too, right bro?"

"What?" John, concentrating hard, jumped, startled. He'd been close to finding Hayley's address. He blinked, trying to remember what he'd heard of the conversation. "Yeah, yeah I am."

"All right," the ranger sighed, warming to Virgil. "But I'll tell you just what I told her. They're boys. They go into the woods, they're having fun, roughing it and fishing and playing Davy Crockett and they forget to phone home. Happens all the time."

"That's what I told him, but he wanted to try anyway," Virgil agreed. He glanced at John, who nodded, signalling he had gotten what they wanted. Virgil smiled back at the ranger. "Thanks for your understanding, sir."

"Do me a favour and tell her that you agree with me, would you? She wanted me to send a search party out there."

"A search party?" Virgil whistled, getting into his stride. "But it's only been …"

Virgil trailed off, realising he didn't really have any idea how to finish the sentence. The ranger, who he'd hoped would pick up where he'd left off, simply lifted an eyebrow.

"Two days," John stepped in. Virgil allowed himself to breathe again. "You wanna talk to someone, bro. Get that memory looked at."

Embarrassed at his near slip, Virgil pushed him towards the door. "We've taken enough of the ranger's time. Thanks for your help, sir."

"Tell Hayley that she's overreacting. Maybe she needs a hobby, eh?" the ranger added, winking at a pink faced John. The Tracy's left quickly, Virgil striding ahead.

"Don't say anything," he told his brother, as John laughed silently behind him. "Just don't say a word, John."

Scott was watching him. He'd been watching him since he'd come back from speaking to the owner of the diner they were still sat in. Scott had assured the man, Lee, that they were fine, that he shouldn't lose money because of them and his kindness and had persuaded him to open the place back up. He'd even ordered some food. Not many had wandered into the diner since, Gordon was for once content to eat in silence and that left Scott sipping his coffee with nothing to distract his attention from Alan.

Alan, for his part, was trying to eat. He was sure the waffles tasted good, the smell was making his mouth water. But it was also making him feel sick. Whenever the saliva welled on his tongue, all he could think about was the wet, sticky blood on his hand and the way the ghost had looked at him. Silent, accusing and angrily asking why Alan was disturbing him and Alan standing with the blood still wet on his skin.

Nausea rolled in Alan's stomach again and he finally gave up all pretence, pushing the plate towards Gordon. Scott frowned in concern, but Alan was tired of giving him explanations and simply drew his jacket tighter about him, hunkering down in his seat and staring moodily out the window.

Gordon snuck Alan's waffles onto his own plate and carried on people watching, trying not to attract Scott's attention. He was obviously in mother-hen mode and any Tracy within sight was considered fair game. The door chime jingled and two men entered, big, burly and smelling of the wilderness. Gordon watched them as they headed for the counter, ordering coffee and food enough to feed a workforce. They were quiet, sombre, they had a stillness about them that Gordon couldn't stop watching and Lee lent across the counter to speak to them.

"Gil? What's happened?"

"Grizzly tracks."

Gil bent to his meal, but his friend set down his mug. "Big ones."

"We get lots of bears, Mark."

"Found its lair, too," Mark told him.

Lee leaned back, breathing out heavily through his nose. "What of it?"

"Cloth mixed with the scatt."

Gordon turned to Scott, finding his brother just as interested in the conversation as he was.

"Come on guys," Lee said, lowering his voice and glancing across at the watching boys. "Bears raid old campsites all the time."

Gil stabbed at a sausage. "We set traps. Probably nothing doing, but it don't hurt to be safe."

"You don't seriously believe there's a man eater out there?" Lee asked.

Mark shrugged. "We've had no missing persons, Lee. Don't get wound up, okay? Just being careful, all right?"

John and Virgil returned then, sliding into the booth.

"Ranger's being bugged by some girl who's convinced he needs to go the woods," John said, helping himself to a waffle from Gordon's plate.

"You know, that's not the weirdest thing you've ever said," Gordon told him.

"It's not a bear," Alan hissed furiously. "Why can't they see that?"

"What's not a bear?" Virgil asked, confused.

Gordon quickly filled the other two in. Virgil turned to John.

"You got her address?"

"Yeah."

Virgil turned to Scott. "We should have a word with this Hayley girl. I think she might have a missing person she's been trying to report."