Wendigo

Charlotte sat on that porch-like swing for only a few minutes before a familiar stranger appeared next to her. He sat next to her, and as they usually did, she talked about all that had recently happened and he listened and gave comfort and advice like it was his mission in life because it was.

The boys drove back down towards Centennial Road but not quite to Jericho, following down the road Charlotte had walked. One thing about Charlotte was she could walk the farthest distance in half a day minimum. As they drove, Sam was quiet, trying in vain not to think of Jessica, how they met, how she lived, smiled, talked, even the way she'd roll her eyes at how he made such a big deal out of being the best in his class even though she'd show how proud she was of him later. What haunted him the most was how she died. Out of all the things he would have liked to remember from her, he remembered her death. This was either in reason that Jessica had just died in front of him and the trauma of such an event was not easily and so quickly removed or it could be that, when someone you know dies, especially in front of your very own eyes, it is harder to remember how happy and jovial they used to be when in the end they vanish from the light of life. Sam's conscious swirled with the prominent memory, realizing this is the same pain that his father felt, realizing that to some extent, his dad had reason to want revenge. Sam let the rage and determination bubble up in him as Dean was trying to get his mind off what had just happened. He didn't care about these stupid coordinates Dad wrote in his journal. "Sam, are you listening to me?" Dean asked, seeing how Sam just seemed so spaced out, staring coldly down at the pavement that rushed underneath them.

"I don't care, Dean." He replied with his teeth clenched.

Dean sighed and said, "Look, Sam, I know how bad this is, I know you want revenge, but Dad could be at these coordinates, and the only way we'll get revenge for Mom and Jess is if we go find Dad…and Charlotte, obviously."

"She won't work with us. You know how she is."

"The hell did you do to piss her off?"

Sam didn't acknowledge this with a reply, and Dean rolled his eyes. Dean just tried to keep Sam's mind off Jess, if he won't take the bait then that was not Dean's problem. It did not, however, mean that Dean would stop trying.

"You remember last time Charlotte got pissed at someone that wasn't us?" He asked with a slight laugh, the memory honestly eliciting this response. Sam realized what his brother was trying to do and nodded, a small smile flicking up on his face.

"Yeah." He replied.

"With the spirit and the hotel manager, oh my god, I wonder if she's still pissed at him." He shook his head, relieved by the memory. Charlotte always seemed to have that effect on them. She affected them in ways that, if anyone else tried, they'd tell Charlie.

What had happened a few years ago when the three of them were on their first real hunt was nothing short of a usual spirit haunting. The boys had gotten there in the Baby, but Charlotte had arrived with her motorcycle. When they got to the hotel, the manager had started to speak with Charlotte about her motorcycle.

"That an '87 Sportster?" The manager asked her after they all checked in.

Charlotte smiled and nodded, the manager was kind of cute, and maybe she could get him to spill some info on the case with a bit of what she called persuasion "Sure is."

"Bit out dated, though, isn't it?" He replied, leaning over the counter. The boys behind her shuffled and stifled laughter, Charlotte took as much pride in her Harley as Dean did with his Chevy.

Charlotte kept a level head, needing this person as a liability to the case they were working. He probably had better intel than the papers were giving them. "Well, you know, I find it less of an antique. I've had it for years, so it's more of attachment love." She spoke amicably.

"Or you could trade it in for a new Mitsubishi." He suggested, looking smug.

"You mean that Japanese piece of trash they call a motorcycle? No thanks." She was pissed beyond definition, walking away before she did something harsh. Later that evening, the manager spotted her at the hotel's bar, drinking down a few shots. They hit a rut in the case and Charlotte had decided they required an 'outside influence'. When Dean and Sam had asked what that influence was, she replied "My good friend Jackie D." Usually Charlotte wouldn't drink before, but she was hanging with the Winchesters and their bad habits were wearing on to her. The manager tried being suave and slid on to a bar stool next to her, eyeing Charlotte up and down. She was in rather short apparel, though nothing that would be noted too obscene for daytime TV. He smirked at her and said

"Let me buy you a drink, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot."

"No thanks, I'm fine." She replied, downing her shot of whiskey.

"No, I insist." And he ordered her an inconspicuous drink, slipping a roofie in her drink when he thought she wasn't looking.

Charlotte smirked and rolled her eyes when she was positive he wasn't looking. This had happened too many times to count and she had learned ways to stop it. The first and second times it had happened she was lucky Sam and Dean had been around before something happened that she'd live her life with knowing had been done to her she couldn't stop.

"You must really think I'm stupid." She told him.

The man seemed like a deer caught in headlights "What?" He asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Drugging me? Is that really how you're going about it?" She replied in a humored snort. Then, she dropped the humored look, which was clearly a fake, and kicked the stool from under the manager's ass. She forced the drink down his gullet and proceeded to beat his head against the counter until he passed out, then left him to look like an idiot the rest of the night. Now he would know how it felt to wake up not knowing how he got where he is or how the bruises on his face and the rest of his body got there.

Present day, Dean said, "He did deserve way more than what Charlie gave him."

"Yeah, but murder is illegal." Sam replied, his mind somewhat wavering from the subject of Jess's demise.

"They're coming back for you, Charlotte." The old friend said, pressing a kiss to her forehead "Be safe." He smiled at her before walking into the forest and disappearing.

Charlotte collected all her things back in her bag and walked down the road she knew the Winchesters would find her on. While she sat back at the lake Gabriel told her something bizarre "What has just happened had to happen, okay Charlie? I couldn't stop it. The least I could do was keep you out of the fire."

What could that have meant? 'Keep you out of the fire' Charlotte pondered on his words, wondering what could possibly happen within five hours that she wasn't with the Winchesters.

Hours later, Charlotte heard the purr of the engine and turned around, seeing the car crawl to stationary. Inside she could see Sam 'He took my spot' She thought, and Dean who looked over at her with a face that wasn't angry anymore. Something must have happened that made him realize she did what she had done for the best because his face had that look that spoke louder than words. "We'll talk later." She read what his face was saying.

A thought struck her: Sam was in her spot. Not only should he have known better, but also it was Sam. Sam was supposed to be home, or whatever he called it, getting ready for the interview of his life. She could imagine Jess probably fixing the tie he'd wear and pecking his cheek before he'd walk out the door. It seemed like the kind of thing Charlotte would do, which is why she thought Jess would do it. Wait. Jess. Jess was the only person keeping him there since it seemed he had fallen in love with her. If he's here, that must mean- oh no.