Since that clocks' first tick
A dark hue and fear-driven
It's only real till it ends
As the stars fall on our hands
Call the wind the thief for stealing their prayers

Look at us shake the sky
Pulling the whites from my eyes
And as the hands are spinning
They're waving you goodbye
A test for more is what you're striving for
As we sleep, we walk

Can't awake the ones who live this life
(Not on our own)
'Cause people are the same
(We are the same)
Only habits change
(Habits change)
But your starry eyes, no, they don't tell me a thing
Staring over heavy heads

I swear, I felt you crawling under my skin
I swear, oh, I swear
Towers won't fit our view
Forget the man in the mountains who follows you
He follows you

VersaEmerge – Clocks


Trees flew by as the Impala cruised down the long stretch of seemingly never-ending road leading to Bailey, Colorado. The stagnant air suffocating us back in Stanford had dissipated only slightly. We remained there for about a week, trying to find anything that would lead us to the cause of Jessica's death, but it was no use. There was nothing viable, no clues. The apartment was torched beyond recognition, along with everything in it. Inspectors thought it was a freak electrical accident. I might've felt the same if I didn't see Jessica pinned to the ceiling. No, it was more. We witnessed it; I felt… something. A fact I kept to myself. I wasn't even sure if it was true. So, I certainly wasn't burdening either of them with the insane idea. All I knew was that I hadn't again felt the way I did that night.

We'd been cooped up in the car for over twenty hours and barely spoke to each other. Sam clammed up, locking a door within himself and throwing away the proverbial key. He hadn't slept much either, the deep purple bags underneath his eyes showing just how exhausted he was despite his denial anytime either of us asked if he was tired. I was concerned, but I didn't push. What could I say? When he finally dozed off in the car, even though his head was craned back in a rather uncomfortable-looking position, I couldn't find it within me to wake him. A few muscle aches were worth some well-needed rest.

Behind the wheel, Dean was quietly humming along to Foreigner's Hot Blooded as it played softly throughout the car. When Sam fell asleep about a half hour ago, he lowered the volume. Focusing on the engine's hum, it lulled me into a daze suddenly broken by Sam jolting upright, gasping for air as he frantically looked around the car.

I jumped along with him, my heart just about leaping out of my chest. Somehow, Dean barely flinched. "You okay?" He asked.

Sam cleared his throat, settling back down into his seat. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Dean glanced back at me in exasperation. Sam wasn't fine.

"Another nightmare?" Dean wondered casually, keeping his eyes on the road.

Looking out of the window signaled Sam's end of the brief discussion. I understood how it felt to have someone pry and push you to talk about things you weren't ready for. It could be days, weeks, months, or even years, but I hope he knows we're here for him.

"You wanna drive for a while?" Dean asked, gaining a shocked look from Sam and myself. Ever since John more or less had given Dean reign of the Impala, he seldom let anybody else drive it. There were occasions when I did, but it was few and far between.

"I'd take him up on it if I were you," I encouraged Sam amusedly.

"It's alright," Sam replied, laughing lightly in disbelief. "Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that."

"Just thought you might want to," Dean muttered with an indifferent shrug. "Never mind."

"Look, man, you're worried about me. Both of you," Sam said, glancing back at me. "I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay," he insisted. I bit my tongue and folded my arms, opting to train my eyes on the fast-moving trees outside of the car. Dean grumbled something to himself, but I couldn't make it out, and Sam didn't bother to ask. Of course, there's no way he was perfectly okay. No one could be, not after that. Eager for a subject change, Sam plucked the map out of the glove box and spread it across his lap. "Alright, where are we?" he asked.

"We're just outside of Grand Junction," Dean replied.

"You know what?" Sam began suddenly. "Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon."

"Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing." Dean said. "If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica–"

"We gotta find Dad first."

"Dad disappearing, and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence."

I nodded in agreement, placing a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "John will have answers," I said. "He'll know what to do." Hopefully.

A short silence fell over us until Sam broke it, saying, "It's weird, man. These coordinates he left us," he gestured to the map in his hands. "This Blackwater Ridge."

"What about it?" Dean inquired.

"There's nothing there. It's just woods," Sam said. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

"I'm sure he's got a reason."

Much to my surprise, Sam didn't disagree. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but wonder. Unless John was there somewhere, hiding out, why would we need to go? It didn't make any sense. But for once, it seemed the boys agreed on something, and I wasn't about to come between that—so I bit my tongue and settled in. We passed a beaten-up, rust-stained sign shoved into the grass on the roadside that read:

'Welcome to Lost Creek, Colorado
National Forest.
'

Lost Creek. How inviting.


In hopes of getting more information on the surrounding area, we headed straight for the Ranger's Station, a small log cabin-style building in the center of a dense forest with various hikers and campers mulling around. Inside, multiple displays held the bones and stems of native fauna and flora. A 3-D map of the national forest sat near the door, illuminated with tiny LED lights. Sam and I went over to inspect it—trying to get a feel of the immense woodland we were about to plop ourselves into, with no real clue why.

"Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," Sam said, pointing to various sections as he spoke. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place."

"It seems pretty secluded," I said, grimly peering up at the map. "I'd hate to get lost out there."

"Right," Sam agreed.

"Guys," Dean called, getting our attention. He pointed behind himself to a framed picture of a man standing next to the carcass of an impressively large bear. "Check out the size of this freaking bear," he uttered.

"It is a big one," I said, making my way over to him.

Dean opened his mouth to make what I could only imagine would be a suggestive comment when Sam cut him off. "And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area," he said. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" A booming voice spoke from behind us. We jumped slightly at the sudden sound, turning to find a thin, older man in a Rangers uniform.

"Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder," Sam lied swiftly. I smiled politely at the Ranger and nodded in agreement as Sam added, "Just working on a paper."

Dean grinned. "Recycle, man," he said, pumping his fist in the air.

"Bull," The Ranger spat, shaking his head as he made his way to the front desk.

The three of us shared a trepidatious look. "What do you mean?" I inquired, trying to hide my shock at his outburst.

"You're friends with that Haley girl, right?" He questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Dean replied quickly. Judging by how this man spoke of her, he didn't seem too fond. Disappointed, even. I allowed my shoulders to drop at getting caught as Dean continued. "Yes, we are, Ranger–" he leaned forward slightly to read the man's nametag. "Wilkinson," he finished, rocking back on his feet.

The Ranger huffed, shaking his head. "Well, I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?"

"Uh, no."

"You tell that girl to quit worrying," he insisted, voice softening slightly. "I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will." Dean nodded. A slight spread across his lips. "Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?" He joked.

Ranger Wilkinson sighed in vexation. "That is putting it mildly," he grumbled.

"Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date," Dean requested, laying it on thick. I couldn't fathom why we'd need that and shot him a subtle questioning look that he promptly ignored, adding, "It would make her feel so much better."

The Ranger thought it over for a moment, looking for any sign that Dean wasn't being truthful. Apparently, he wasn't very good at judging when people were lying to him because two seconds later, Ranger Wilkinson handed Dean a freshly printed copy of the permit—and we were on our way. I plucked the permit from his hands, scanning the scribbled print filled out for Thomas Collins. He still had a few days before his return, so I couldn't imagine why his sister was so concerned. Or why Dean wanted this damn thing.

"What are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asked his brother suddenly.

My eyebrows flew up. "Excuse me?" I asked, looking up from the ticket in my hand.

"What? No!" Dean insisted, turning his attention to me. "No," he repeated adamantly.

"Yeah, better not," I said, circling the back of the Impala to stop at the rear passenger door.

Dean shot his brother a look. "You trying to get me in trouble or something?" He snapped.

"I'm just trying to figure out what you're doing, Dean," Sam said, stopping at the passenger door. "The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

"I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?" Dean said, making a logical point. "Since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later, anyway?"

Sam remained silent for a beat. "Since now," he said, getting into the car.

"Oh, really?" Dean asked, shrugging his mouth in approval as he looked at me over the top of the Impala. I bit the inside of my cheek, avoiding the elephant in the room as I slipped into the backseat. I couldn't be the only one who saw the tremendous pain beneath Sam's newfound steel exterior. That wasn't him, and it'd become an issue sooner or later.


A string of houses led to the Collins' residence, a modest two-story house with bushes sprouting colorful flowers on either side of the porch. Dean rang the doorbell beside the tall, tan wood door with three rectangular windows carved into it. A few moments later, a woman around our age with curly auburn hair opened the door, leaving the second screen one shut as she peered at us skeptically.

"You must be Haley Collins," Dean began with a friendly smile. "I'm Dean; this is Sam and Tori. We're, uh– we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother, Tommy."

Haley hesitated, her eyes moving quickly between the three of us. "Let me see some ID," she demanded. Dean pulled his fake ID out of his pocket and pressed it against the screen, glancing over at me with an eye roll that she thankfully didn't catch. Haley glanced at the card for a split second, probably having no real idea of what to look for anyway. Finally, Dean gave her a wide, charming smile, and she relented, moving to open the screen door. I glanced back at Sam, who stared on in bewilderment.

"Thanks," Dean said, about to take a step as Haley opened the door wider but stopped when she paused.

"That yours?" She inquired, looking behind us at the Impala.

Dean beamed like a proud father. "Yeah," he replied.

"Hm," Haley hummed, nodding appreciatively. "Nice car."

Oh, great, I thought, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. A pretty girl complimenting his car? I've lost him now.

With a sweet smile aimed at Dean, Haley stepped aside to allow us in. Dean entered the foyer, glancing at us with a pleased grin. I pursed my lips and pushed past him into the home to follow Haley into the dining room, where a boy, who I assumed to be her younger brother, was sitting at the table hunched over a laptop, glaring up at us as we entered. "Who are you?" He asked.

"They're Rangers, Ben," Haley explained, muttering a quick "Excuse me" as she disappeared into an adjacent room, returning with a couple of plates and a small pot of food that she set on the table near her brother.

"Rangers?" The boy questioned, an eyebrow raised. He pushed the laptop away, pulling the empty plate in front of him as Haley stirred the contents of the pot. "You're Haley's age."

"Well, the department's under new management. They wanna start 'em young,'" Dean lied with a brisk chuckle.

Ben didn't look convinced, but Haley spoke before he could say anything else. "What do you want to know about Tommy?" She asked, placing a comforting hand on her younger brother's shoulder.

"Well, you went to the Ranger's station because you were worried about him, right?" I asked; she nodded, her lips pressed into a sad, thin line. "So, you know that Tommy has a set date to return," I said tentatively. "A little bit from now."

"Yes," Haley sighed. Her shoulders dropped, but she steeled her gaze—trying to remain strong for Ben. "But something is… wrong."

"How do you know something's wrong?" Sam asked her. Through his sympathetic gaze, I could see the beginnings of doubt circling his irises. The more I heard, the less convinced I was that this was our kind of thing.

"He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now," She answered, leaning on the back of a dining chair for support.

"Well, maybe he can't get cell reception," Sam suggested.

Haley staunchly shook her head. "He's got a satellite phone, too," she claimed.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean asked.

Ben looked up for the first time since our conversation started. "He wouldn't do that." he insisted adamantly.

"Our parents are gone," Haley interjected, trying to explain her brother's outburst. "It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other," she muttered, scooping a spoonful of stew into Ben's bowl in an attempt to distract herself. I couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with her. I had empathy for all of the people we helped, but our circumstances, while not exactly alike, were similar enough that my heart ached for her. I couldn't imagine going through what she was right now.

"Can I see the pictures he sent you?" Sam requested gently.

"Yeah," Haley agreed with no hesitation. She clicked around on the laptop, pulling up a couple of photos of a man with short black hair sitting in a tent, smiling brightly at the camera. "That's Tommy," she announced and brought up a paused video of the same happy-go-lucky guy. "This is his last message," Haley explained, pressing play.

"Hey Haley," Tommy smiled on the screen, moving the camera out a bit so more of his face was visible. "Day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow," he said. Tommy seemed to be in such high spirits, and nothing appeared to be wrong. Even if Haley didn't believe it, the explanation might very well be just as simple as Tommy being unable to check in for a mundane reason.

"Well, we'll find your brother," Dean promised. It took a moment to register what he said, and I'm sure the Collins' caught my expression of pure shock when it finally did sink in. As bad as I felt for Haley, if her brother simply got lost out there, I don't see how we would find him—or why we'd even try. "We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing," he proclaimed. I shared a more subtle look of surprise with Sam. News to us, I thought.

"Then maybe I'll see you there," Haley said, standing beside her little brother again.

"I'm sorry, what?" I questioned, unsure I heard her correctly. "You're gonna go out there?"

Haley nodded. "I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy," she placed her hands on her hips, speaking with fierce determination. "I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself."

Dean's eyes flooded with emotion-charged understanding as they locked onto Haley. "I think I know how you feel," he said. Since we crossed state lines, the only thing on his mind was John and finding him. Haley's adamant declaration about locating her loved one seemed only to further his resolve.

"Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?" Sam asked, pointing to the screen.

"Sure," Haley said. Sam gave her his email, and she sent over the files. We thanked them for their time and told them to be careful tomorrow before leaving for the Impala.

"We'll find your brother?" I repeated Dean's words back to him the moment Haley shut her front door.

"What's wrong with that?" He asked.

"That's kind of a big promise, isn't it?"

"Well, it is part of the gig," Dean said, moving out in front of Sam and me.

"Part of," I scoffed, trudging down the steps.

As we neared, the Impala Dean reached into his pocket for the car keys and turned to me. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't like making promises I can't keep," I said, folding my arms across my chest. "That's the big deal."

"Who says we can't keep it?" Dean challenged.

"You saw how expansive those woods are. Finding him would take a miracle."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off and shrugged. "We're gonna be out there, anyway."

"Yeah, to look for Dad," Sam chimed in, not stopping his stride until he arrived at the passenger side of the car.

"Oh, come on, not you, too!" Dean huffed, shoulders dropping in disappointment. "Look, let's just do a little digging; see what's going on around here. It can't hurt."

"Fine," Sam uttered through pursed lips. "I'll swing by the library; find out some more about Lost Creek."

"'Course you would wanna do that," Dean teased, getting into the car.

"Do you want me to tag along?" I asked Sam.

"No," he replied quickly and plastered on a tight smile when he realized how fast he declined. "I mean, uh–"

After everything, he wanted some time alone. I didn't have to like it, but I did have to respect it. "It's okay, I get it," I told him sincerely. Sam nodded gratefully and joined Dean in the front seat.

At the library, Dean thought he was slick about it, but I'd have to be a complete moron not to notice how he lingered in the parking lot until Sam disappeared into the building. I didn't say anything, but when he caught my eye in the rear-view mirror, he knew I knew. We traveled in comfortable silence to a nearby pub, where Sam would eventually meet up with us. I absentmindedly drummed my nails on the scratched wooden bar table, finding a particularly deep groove to focus on as my mind ran through the possible reasons John told us to come here. It couldn't be because he was here and needed our help; that'd be impossible, considering he left the journal in Jericho. Unless he thought something bad would happen to him out here, and he wanted to be sure we'd find him.

It was possible, I suppose, but that idea didn't sit right with me. There's no way John Winchester had gotten lost in the woods. I don't care how expansive, and I don't care what kind of wildlife was out there. In my head, it just wasn't a possibility. He would drag himself through the woods with a limb hanging off before asking anybody for help.

Distracted as I was, I still noticed the sensation of a gaze on me. I almost expected to look and find nothing, but instead was met with Dean's raised eyebrow. "Welcome back," he smiled.

I chuckled, licking my drying lips. "Sorry," I muttered.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, wiping some condensation off my beer. Of all the thoughts bombarding my mind, I kept returning to one and finally decided to bite the bullet. "What exactly are we doing here, Dean?"

"Drinking," he said, gesturing to the half-empty bottle of beer in front of him.

"Very funny," I droned. "Here. In Lost Creek," I clarified.

"Dad wanted us here," Dean said like it was the most simple thing in the world when it was anything but.

"Okay. Why?" I pressed.

"I don't know yet."

"Will we ever?"

Dean cracked a smile. "I don't know that either," he said.

I sighed, turning on my stool to face him. "Level with me," I requested, tucking my bangs behind my ear to get them out of my face. Dean nodded, and I continued. "Do you really think all this with Tommy Collins is our kind of thing, or are you just too close to this?"

Dean furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Haley's brother is missing, and John–"

"You think I'm letting my feelings get in the way?" He scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of beer.

I rolled my eyes at his nonchalant attitude. "You do have them, you know," I said pointedly.

"Tor, I know what I'm doing," he deflected.

"I know that," I agreed wholeheartedly. "I just have to wonder if you're letting what's happening to us… influence things. A little."

Dean put his bottle back down with a quiet clunk against the wood, staring at the dark brown glass contemplatively. Eventually, he looked at me. "Maybe a little," he admitted in a low voice, almost as though he was afraid to say it too loud.

"It'd be impossible not to," I said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"But something is going on," he insisted. "Just like Jericho, Dad brought us here for a reason. I know it."

"You really believe that?" I asked, letting my hand fall back to my side.

Dean kept his gaze locked on mine. "Yeah, I really do," he said adamantly.

Despite the dim amber glow of the room's lights deepening the color of his eyes to a shade of emerald, I could still see sparks of conviction within them. All of this was so important to him, but more than the freedom that came with hunting, more than getting to kill monsters—it was about protecting people. That's all he's ever done, it's the only thing he knew.

"Then I believe you," I said.

"But not Dad?" Dean inquired, not angry or upset but genuinely curious. I took a deep breath, trying to find the correct words to express how I felt. It's not that I didn't trust John; of course, I did. But with everything that's happened, I didn't know what to believe anymore. An argument could be made that he was laying these plans out for us, but if so, why?

"I don't know where John's head is at right now," I began. "But I do know where yours is. And I trust you. So, if you think this is the way to go, then that's what we're gonna do."

"If only Sam could get on board," he complained.

"Maybe he'll come around," I said. Dean cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Yeah, never mind," I muttered. At the mention of Sam, I checked my watch. He should be here any minute, so I hopped off the stool and headed to the bar, where I ordered another round of drinks with an extra for Sam. While I waited, I spotted a man in his late twenties with cropped, dirty blonde hair watching me across the room.

"Here you go," the bartender said, putting the bottles on the bar with a clang and a smile.

"Thanks," I smiled, picking up the beer and heading back to the table where Sam had just arrived. On the way, the same guy winked and flashed a cocky smile my way—which Dean saw. As soon as I got close enough to the stool Dean was sitting on, he brought me tightly to his side and held me there, raising a challenging eyebrow at the guy, who almost instantly shrunk back. I placed the bottles down and moved out of his grasp.

"Stop pissing on my leg, Dean," I snickered, sliding behind him to hop onto the stool next to his.

Sam snorted a laugh, putting his laptop bag down as he sat. Dean tilted his head to look up at me. "Oh, you want me to let a creepy dude stare at you?" He asked, flashing an eyebrow.

"Maybe I didn't think he was creepy," I retorted challengingly, a playfulness in my eyes that only he could see. The amused grin on Sam's lips began to fall, replaced with apprehension. I turned my attention to him. "What's wrong?"

"Are–" Sam paused, eyes darting between Dean and me. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, why?" Dean asked, his faux irritation fading away in an instant.

Sam blinked a few times, shrugging his mouth and mumbling, "No reason," before taking a swig of his beer.

"So, you find anything interesting?" I asked Sam.

"Well, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found," he finished, pulling out and opening a leather-bound notebook, taking some newspaper articles from the pocket inside.

"Any before that?" Dean asked as Sam handed us the clippings.

"Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year," Sam said eagerly. Despite his complaints, researching and learning so many different things was a side of hunting I think he always genuinely liked. It certainly didn't hurt that he was so smart and quickly excelled at it. "Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936," Sam added. "Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork."

"Kinda like a ritual," I said, setting down one of the newspaper articles.

"Or hibernation," Sam said. "And watch this; here's a clincher," he held up a finger and pulled his laptop from his bag, opening it. "I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out." He played the same video Haley showed us earlier, skipping through frames one at a time.

Tommy's smiling face took up much of the picture, but a small bit of the sheer blue tent was visible behind him. Outside the tent, a looming shadow flew by, barely rustling the leaves beneath it.

"Do it again," Dean requested, staring intently at the video.

Sam repeated the frames, slower this time. "That's three frames," he informed us as it replayed. The figure lurched past, its frame lanky and intimidating. I had no clue what it was, but it certainly wasn't human. "That's a fraction of a second," Sam added. "Whatever that thing is, it can move."

Dean smacked Sam's arm, rocking the table below us. I pursed my lips and held the two boots within reach as the liquid inside sloshed from the sudden movement. "Told you something weird was going on!" He boasted through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," Sam rolled his eyes and shut the laptop.

"You thought it was bullshit," Dean accused me haughtily.

"In my defense," I held up a hand. "It seemed like bullshit."

"I got one more thing," Sam said, handing me another article from his laptop bag. "In 'fifty-nine, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Dean quickly scanned the paper I held before looking back to Sam. "Is there a name?"


Now deemed the town recluse, Mr. Shaw, a gray-haired man with cloudy, haunted eyes, lived alone in a cluttered one-bedroom apartment. It was dark inside, save for the singular lamp sitting atop a side table. I was careful where I walked along the creaky floorboards, not wanting to step on or trip over the random assortment of items lying on the ground. Mr. Shaw faced away from us, reaching into his pocket with a shaky hand to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He took one and lit it, puffing on it as he spoke.

"Look, rangers, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "My parents got mauled by a–"

"Grizzly?" Sam interrupted skeptically. "That's what attacked them?" He pressed. Instead of speaking, Mr. Shaw simply nodded and kept his eyes trained on the lifting floorboard beneath him.

"The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?" Dean questioned. Shaw took another, more deliberate drag of his cigarette and nodded, but this gesture was weaker than the last.

"What about the missing people this year, Mr. Shaw? Are they all from grizzlies, too?" I wondered. The withered man glanced back at me briefly but still said nothing.

Dean sighed, giving me a look of exasperation before returning his sights to the man. "If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it," he attempted to convince him.

"I seriously doubt that," Mr. Shaw scoffed out a shaky breath. "Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make," he mumbled, slowly lowering himself onto his armchair. "You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

"Mr. Shaw," Sam began, crossing the small gap to sit on the couch across from him. "What did you see?"

"Nothing," Shaw replied, the first hint of truth showing in his voice since we arrived. "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar…" he looked down with round, dark eyes—the fear in them was palpable like he was relieving the night all over again. "Like… no man or animal I ever heard."

"It came at night?" Sam asked. The only response Shaw could muster was a nod, and Sam continued. "It got inside your tent?"

Mr. Shaw shook his head. "It got inside our cabin," he corrected intently as his eyes danced back and forth between the three of us. Horror seeped into them as he recounted that night. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming."

"It killed them?" Sam inquired gently.

"Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive—been asking myself that ever since." Mr. Shaw paused for a moment before pulling the collar of his shirt to the side. "Did leave me this, though," he uttered, pulling aside his shirt and sweater to reveal three huge, long scars from his shoulder and chest. Like claw marks. The man let out a slow breath. "There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon."

My entire body locked up at the word; the breath I'd been pulling lodged in my throat like a rock. No matter how hard I tried to swallow, I couldn't force it away. The nightmare I had the other night slithered to the forefront of my mind; the black and white replay suddenly cut with the color of my shaking, bright red blood-covered hands. The ashy cigarette smoke scent surrounding me suddenly turned copper by the imaginary blood. It lingered on the back of my tongue, burning as it slid down my throat…

A trail of sparks fluttered through my hand, Dean's grasp on me pulling my consciousness back to the present. The electrical shocks lingered where he touched me, and I focused on the sensation, trying to ground myself in reality. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes as the visions faded, disappearing almost fast as they'd come. Sam gave me a worried look before thanking Mr. Shaw for his time. I wanted to thank him, to tell him how sorry I was for his loss, but I couldn't seem to form the words. It was like my mind was on autopilot; I needed out, and I needed it now. I took a few slow breaths in the musty hallway to calm my ever-frying nerves. After all this time, it was very rare that I'd have such intense flashbacks if any. But now that the nightmares began again, I suppose they were to be expected. It didn't make it any easier.

I didn't realize I'd moved a considerable length down the hall until I heard the boys rushing to reach me, and I came to a halt, turning back with an apologetic gaze. Sam ignored it, his concern taking importance. "Are you okay?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," I mumbled, looking to the ground. Dean wrapped an arm around me, keeping me tucked to his side as he led us toward the exit. I knew he was worried. Part of me was, too. But it's not like this was something I hadn't dealt with before. After getting over the shock of it all coming back, I'd be alright.

"Spirits and–" Dean hesitated, glancing over at me in worry before looking forward again. "Those other things don't have to unlock doors," he finished. "If they want inside, they just go through the walls."

"So, it's probably something else," Sam asserted, glancing at me with a comforting gaze. "Something corporeal."

Dean raised an eyebrow, staring at his brother with a slight grin. "Corporeal?" he scoffed. "Excuse me, professor."

"Shut up," Sam complained, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "So, what do you think?"

"The claws, the speed that it moves… could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog," Dean said, stopping in front of the exit door. "Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal," he flashed an eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean ignored him and continued with a point of his finger. "Which means we can kill it."

A strong wind kicked up around us as we went outside and over to the Impala. The cool air felt amazing on my otherwise warm skin, whipping my hair around my face. I didn't bother to fix it, letting it fly wildly as I leaned against the back door of the Impala and shut my eyes. To my right, Dean opened the trunk, the sound of him pulling out various guns and weapons and shoving them into a bag unmistakable as they clinked noisily.

"We cannot let that Haley girl go out there," Sam insisted out of the blue.

"Oh yeah?" Dean questioned with a scoff. "What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. My eyes flew open in shock at his suggestion. There was a reason hunters didn't just go around telling people about monsters; it'd cause nothing but panic. The few people who could handle it would never make up for those who could not.

Dean paused mid-way into stuffing a shotgun in the bag to look up at his brother in bewilderment. "You're kidding me," he uttered.

"Well, obviously, we can't do that," I said, shooting Sam a pointed look as I pushed off the car. He released a heavy breath, turning his head away. I continued. "But Sam is right about one thing—she can't go out there, Dean," I told him. "She'll end up gone, too. Or worse."

"Her brother's missing, Tor. She's not gonna just sit this out," Dean said obviously, zipping the duffel bag shut and standing upright.

"I get that, okay? But whatever's out there took Mr. Shaw's entire family, did God knows what with them, and–"

"And, what? We go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend," Dean finished with a toothy smile. "Simple as that."

"So, we have to protect her and find her brother?" I asked, folding my arms. This was a terrible idea. "Dean, that's way too much."

"We can handle it," he insisted calmly. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, kicking the ground with the toe of my boot.

"Finding Dad's not enough?" Sam asked, angrily slamming the arsenal compartment, startling me. I didn't move an inch when he also slammed the trunk. He stood toe-to-toe with his brother, glaring at him. "Now we gotta babysit too?" They stared each other down, and Sam challengingly asked, "What?"

I fully expected to have to break up a brawl but was surprised when Dean's eyes quickly snapped to mine before returning to Sam. Dean was hurt, and it was obvious—to me at least—by the look in his eyes that his brother's words struck a chord; I just wasn't sure which one.

"Nothing," Dean replied quickly. He threw the duffel bag at Sam and walked away to the driver's side of the Impala. He got into the car, shoving the key into the ignition with a bit more force than necessary.

Sam stared after him, lips pressed together in aggravation. I tapped his arm, nodding for him to follow along as I left his side for the back door of the Impala. I waited there until he relented. He was upset, sure. And I understood why I really did. But he couldn't stand there for the rest of the night.

We got a motel room so we could be somewhat rested and ready for… whatever tomorrow held. The boys didn't speak the entire drive, and Sam went straight for the bathroom with his bag in hand when we got into the room. Dean watched him go, keeping his eyes on the door long after it was shut.

After the shower turned on, I cleared my throat, calling Dean's attention to me. "What was all that back there?" I asked.

"What back where?" Dean played dumb, dropping the duffel bag over his shoulder onto one of the two beds. I lifted a displeased eyebrow to let him know I wasn't about to back down until he gave me a genuine answer. He glanced over at me before returning his eyes to the duffel bag. "I know Sam's… going through what he's going through. I get it. But it doesn't mean we stop doing what we do."

"But I gotta tell you, I don't like this thing with Haley."

"She won't back down, you know that. You saw her."

"I know. I'm just concerned," I admitted. "I mean, we don't know what it is we're walking into here."

"Never stopped us before," Dean uttered with a small but confident smile.

That was a point I couldn't argue with. We usually never knew precisely what was happening until we were deep in it. That's just how things were. "That is true," I yielded.

"So, you're saying I'm… right?" He asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"I'm not saying that," I chuckled. Dean smiled, snaking a hand underneath my jacket. He pressed it to my back and pulled me close, tilting my chin upward with his other hand so he could bend down and kiss me. I immediately melted into him, feeling his heart beating steadily under my palm that rested on his chest.

I'd been so careful not to leave any lingering touches or do anything remotely romantic in Sam's presence. After everything he lost, it just didn't seem right. We hadn't had much time for anything, let alone to talk, so I hoped Dean knew that's why I was being a little distant lately. It certainly didn't come from a lack of wanting.

Pulling back slightly a moment later, the smile on his face silently quelled my worries, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "You okay?" he muttered.

"Yeah," I replied softly, wrapping my arms around him.

"What happened at Shaw's?" Dean asked quietly. I expected the question to come eventually. I shouldn't have been so surprised.

"Same stuff that used to happen," I said, trying to shrug off the cold fingers flying up my spine. "When he mentioned… them," I spat the word, using the same amount of venom I would've if I said what they actually were. "It was just unexpected–" I sighed, trying to change his unconvinced gaze. "Dean, I'm alright."

"Are you having nightmares again?" He asked out of the blue, holding me a bit tighter. Now, that question I wasn't expecting. So, I faltered, unsure how to answer. Guilt washed over me as I stared up into his anxious eyes. I didn't want to lie to him, but he already had so much weight on his shoulders; how could I add more when I should help carry it? Dean tucked my hair behind my ear, stroking my cheek with his thumb as he searched my blue eyes for the truth. "Tell me," he insisted.

Before I blatantly lied through my teeth, the sound of the bathroom door's lock popping signaled Sam's return. Dean pursed his lips, letting me slip out of his grasp. Sam paused in the doorway, his wet bangs hanging over hazel hues that darted between his brother and me. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, tentatively rocking back and forth on his feet.

"No, it's fine," I reassured, heading to the table where I sat tiredly.

"Yeah, it's fine," Dean grumbled, pulling some clothes from the bag below him. He tucked them under his arm, abruptly shutting the bag's zipper. It didn't dawn on me until now that time I spent staring at him like a deer in headlights gave him the answer he'd been looking for, one I was too scared to say. Knowing I was about to lie to him did more damage than telling the truth. That was a bad call on my part.

"O…kay…" Sam trailed off, moving briskly through the room, shooting a questioning gaze at Dean as he passed. He ignored him completely, going so far as to look in the other direction. Sam glanced back at the shutting bathroom door before returning his confused eyes to mine. "What was that about?" He asked, making his way to the table to sit across from me. "After everything at the bar, you guys seemed fine."

I furrowed my brow. "What happened at the bar?"

"You know, that thing with that guy."

A sardonic laugh fell from my lips. "Sam, we were playing around," I said.

"Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes. We were fine then, and we are fine now," I insisted. I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping he'd just let it go. Even though he had good intentions, I didn't want to discuss it.

Sam watched me for a moment, no doubt gauging my body language to determine whether I was telling the truth. "Does this have to do with what happened at Shaw's?" He pressed gently, deciding he didn't believe me.

"Yeah, a little."

"Well, what did happen exactly?"

"Sam–"

"You should talk about it, Tori."

I huffed, pursing my lips. "I have to talk about my issues, but you don't have to talk about yours?" I questioned. Sam stared at me dubiously, unwavering. I rolled my eyes, unable to take the look on his face any longer. "Look, there's something Dean asked, something I should've said… but I didn't. I don't want to bother him with it."

"I don't think you'd be bothering him," Sam pointed out. More annoying than his persistence was that I knew he was right. Of course, I wouldn't be bothering him. He'd carry any weight for me.

After what felt like an eternity but was only about five minutes, Dean exited the bathroom, ready for bed. "Alright, we should get some shut-eye," he said, pulling back the covers on our bed.

Shooting me a pointed look, Sam got up and grabbed something from his bag before lying down in bed. He put some headphones in, slid underneath the covers, and closed his eyes. I could practically hear his music from here. I grabbed some shorts and a t-shirt from my bag and changed in the bathroom. By the time I was finished, I returned to the main room to find Dean already in bed, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

Shutting off the lamp on the table, I carefully crossed the dark room and got into bed. I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to come up with the best way to start this conversation when I realized there was no good way. I propped myself up on my elbow. "Hey," I called quietly.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, eyes pulling from the ceiling to meet mine.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, taking the hand that rested atop his stomach in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. I continued before he could deny my need for an apology. "I shouldn't have tried to keep it from you. It's just that you've got so much on your plate already…."

"It's not like you scraped your knee, Tor. This is serious."

"It is, and I know that. It's just…." I huffed tiredly. "God, Dean, I don't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it. I thought I was over it."

"So, they are happening again….?" He trailed, cautiously referencing the nightmares.

"Yes," I admitted. I wanted to remove the worry in his eyes and hurried to add, "But it's nothing I can't deal with."

Dean saw right through me and tucked my bangs behind my ear, running a comforting hand down my arm until he reached my wrist, holding it gently. "You don't have to go it alone. You know that."

"I know," I agreed, waiting a moment to collect my scrambled thoughts before speaking. Dean waited patiently, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. I sighed, walls crumbling. "It's just… scary. It feels like I'm there again," I admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Over the years, I'd come to terms with what happened. As much as one could, anyhow. Now, I felt small—weak. I shouldn't, especially not with him, but I did. Not because he'd judge me but because I judged me. Though powerless, I held myself in contempt for being so feeble. In certain quiet moments, the maybe's and what if's that learned to reside at the back of my mind sprang forward. If I had been smarter, done something—fought harder, maybe it wouldn't have happened the way it did.

Sensing my distress, Dean wrapped an arm around me and brought me close. "It's not your fault," he said for what was, at minimum, the thousandth time in ten years.

As badly as I wanted to agree with him—and mean it—I couldn't. I'd have had no qualms about it a month ago, but now? I couldn't muster the words. The actions weren't mine; they weren't carried out with my hands. They might as well have been. I did nothing, and because of that, the blood permanently stained my soul—seeping into the brand left behind by the perpetrator. That never went away. It never would.

"We'll figure it out, okay? We did it before; we can do it again," Dean reassured me, smoothing my hair and kissing the top of my head. I nodded weakly and snuggled into his warmth, trying to find contentment in his arms while I was awake, knowing that when I finally drifted off, any sense of comfort would be gone.


A painfully loud, persistent beeping filled my ears, heaving me out of my vivid sleep. My breath hitched as I awoke to the blank, white popcorn ceiling. In my tired state, I groggily searched the dark room through squinted eyes for the source of the noise, finding it coming from the shaking alarm clock on the nightstand that read five AM. I collapsed back onto the dense pillow below me. I'd been having the same dream over and over since we left Stanford; each time I so much as drifted off to sleep, I was transported to that dingy school parking lot. The nightmare replayed until I was woken up. This time, it was on its third loop, so while irritating for some, I'd never been more grateful for an alarm.

Meanwhile, Sam shuffled around, reaching to slap the snooze button with much more force than necessary as he complained about the alarm being set in the first place. He rolled over again, and with Sam's back to us, Dean snaked an arm across my stomach and kissed my temple. "How'd you sleep?" He asked quietly.

"Alright," I said. Now wasn't the time to get into it. At least, that's what I convinced myself. I'd tell him later.

Dean looked like he wanted to say something more, but Sam moved again, and he decided against it. Instead, he kissed me and tossed the covers off, getting out of bed. I remained there for a few minutes, looking for patterns on the rough surface above to try and calm my thumping heart. Eventually, I had no other option than to start my day. I brushed my teeth and hair, throwing it up in a messy ponytail so it'd be out of my face while we were trekking through the woods.

A long road barely wide enough to fit two cars at once weaved uphill through steadily thickening trees and shrubs until it ended at the mouth of an overgrown trail created only by the constant tramping by brave wilderness enthusiasts. Anxiety ripped from my stomach and into my chest the further we drove. I wouldn't think twice about tromping through the wilderness any other day, but that nightmare was fresh on my mind and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Haley, her brother, Ben, and a man looking a good few years older than us stood around the back of an SUV, strapping on backpacks.

The boys got out of the car, and whether I liked it or not, I had to force myself to follow. The nightmare was just that—a nightmare. I couldn't allow it to affect me. So, I grabbed our bag from the rear floorboard and reached for the door handle. Before I could, Sam opened it and took the duffel from my hands as I got out.

"What a gentleman," I smiled. "Thanks."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, 'course," he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

We made our way to join the group with Dean, who addressed Haley as he neared the front of the Impala. "You guys got room for three more?" he asked.

She looked a bit taken aback, her deep blue eyes going wide. "Wait, you want to come with us?"

"Who are these guys?" The unfamiliar man asked, taking a protective step closer to Haley. She specifically mentioned not having any family other than her brothers, so I safely assumed this man was the person she hired to help them look for Ben.

"Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue," she replied, tilting her head to the side in amusement.

The guy narrowed his eyes at us. "You're rangers?" He demanded incredulously.

"That's right." Dean nodded with all the confidence in the world.

Haley popped an eyebrow, her eyes trailing Dean's body, lingering a little too long for my liking. I folded my arms across my chest in displeasure. "And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" She asked.

Dean grinned. "Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts," he said as he passed by her.

"What, you think this is funny?" The man asked, glaring at Dean's back. "It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt."

"Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be," Dean said over his shoulder. "We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all."

"We don't need help from amateurs."

"A few extra sets of eyes and ears can't hurt. Especially not in a situation like this," I said. "But being an expert and all, you would know that, right?" I challenged. The man's lips flattened into a tight line, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

"Well, there you go," Dean smiled proudly. "So, can we get started here, or what?"

The further we got into the woods, the clearer it became that our presence wasn't wanted. Not by Haley—or even Ben—but by Roy, the wilderness exploration expert. The dude was a total tool. But Haley just wanted to find her brother, and I commended her for trying. It was more than most would do in these situations. Usually, people would tell themselves to wait and hope everything would be okay, that the cops would find their missing loved one. In doing what we do, I knew the sad reality was that most of the time, the longer you waited, the less chance you had of a decent outcome.

For a strikingly cool morning, it'd gotten considerably hot outside and much more humid than expected. I was half tempted to take the knife from my back pocket and cut my jeans into shorts, but I decided against it as we trudged through the high, vine-filled grass. It's probably best to avoid ticks, if at all possible. I internally laughed at myself. We didn't even know what monster we were hunting, and I was worried about bugs.

At the request of Roy, we remained in a loose line, with Sam bringing up the rear, followed by Ben—who had an earbud shoved into his ear—Haley, me, Dean, and Mr. Wilderness himself. With those two at the helm, it was only a matter of time before their egos blew up in our faces. Sure, Roy was a dick, but it shouldn't be something to get distracted over. I held onto hope that Dean realized this. Of course, he did not.

"So, Roy, you said you did a little hunting?" Dean asked tauntingly. I rolled my eyes, glancing back to see Sam already sporting a similarly exhausted expression.

Roy scoffed. "Yeah, more than a little," he bragged haughtily.

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded, a grin in his voice. "What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly buck, sometimes bear."

"Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" Dean jeered, moving to pass him as we neared a hill. Roy grabbed the back of Dean's jacket, halting his movements along with everyone else's. Part of me wanted to charge forward, but the other, more logical part told me to stay put—so I did. Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Whatcha doing, Roy?" He asked warningly.

Roy bent down and picked up a large stick. He waved it in Dean's face before poking at the ground in front of them. I flinched at the violent snap of the wood and chomp of metal that echoed through the air as the front section of the stick flew off. The flash of anger that passed through me all but forced my teeth to bear down audibly. I glared at Dean's back, burning a hole into him that I knew he felt. Too busy trying to fuck with this irrelevant asshole that we'd never seen again in our lives after today, he nearly missed having his ankle snapped in half. That would've been a great end to a hunt we didn't even start. If John were here, I couldn't help but think he'd threaten to reset the bear trap and make Dean step in the damn thing as punishment. That level of neglectfulness is not something that would fly in his presence.

"You should watch where you're stepping… Ranger." Roy spat mockingly. He purposefully stepped over the hidden metal trap and continued his trek. Any credibility we might have gained with Haley seemed to dissipate at that moment, judging by the sour look on her face.

Dean watched Roy go for a moment before chuckling, "It's a bear trap," back at us. He tried to play it off, but as I neared him, a sheepish smile twitched across his lips.

The corners of my lips turned downward into a disapproving frown. "Just be more careful," I pleaded.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, placing a protective hand on my back as I stepped around the hunk of metal. As we continued deeper into the woods, Dean opted to mostly keep his eyes on the ground now as he walked. I was way more cautious than I already had been; nearly every twig snap made me jump.

After a short, hushed conversation with Ben, Haley cut out in front of me, walking briskly until she reached Dean. "You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers, so who the hell are you?" She asked agitatedly. When he wouldn't respond or look her way, she reached out to grab his arm and turn him toward her. Haley stopped walking, forcing Sam and me to stop as well. Ben wasn't caught in the pile-up and strode right past to follow Roy, not appearing to care very much.

Dean peered over the brunette's shoulder, giving his brother and me a nod that told us to go on without them. I cocked an eyebrow but left, albeit begrudgingly, with Sam. We got maybe a yard away before I stopped and leaned against a nearby tree. There's no way I was about to up and leave the two of them. If, for whatever reason, we got separated, then at least Ben would have Sam and Roy, and Haley would have Dean and me. We stood a bigger chance of keeping everyone safe that way.

"We're looking for our father," Dean explained honestly. I was a little taken aback that he told her the truth—or at least half of it—but I suppose it couldn't hurt. "He might be here; we don't know," he continued. "I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat."

Haley pursed her lips thoughtfully, her voice softening when she replied. "Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?"

Maybe we should have told her before, but it wasn't too ingrained in us to be super forthcoming with these things. First rule of hunting; don't talk about hunting and all that.

"I'm telling you now. Besides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman… ever," he said pointedly. Even though he couldn't see, I shot a glare his way and folded my arms across my chest in disdain. "Other than that gorgeous girl, of course," Dean said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder in my direction without even looking. My spine straightened, and I quickly blinked away my glare as he tilted his head toward me with an amused look. I wiggled my fingers in a timid wave, smiling sheepishly. I hurriedly ducked behind the tree and out of sight.

"So we okay?" Dean asked Haley.

"Yeah, okay," she replied, a smile in her voice.

"And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" Dean said, the distinct sound of thick plastic crinkling piquing my curiosity. I peered around the thick tree stump to see Dean holding a bright yellow bag of peanut M&Ms. Haley watched him in awe as he grabbed a handful out of the bag and walked over to me. "Want some, Eavesdropper?" He asked teasingly, offering up the bag.

"I don't know," I grimaced, looking up at him from the neon plastic. "Where have they been?"

"My jacket."

"And how long have they been in your jacket?"

Dean pursed his lips in thought. "Since this morning," he muttered.

"Yeah, I'll pass," I laughed lightly. "And I wasn't eavesdropping, by the way," I insisted as we began walking again.

"Oh, yeah? So, you enjoy hiding behind trees?" Dean questioned, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled. "It's nice, you know? That we can still learn new things about each other."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes but did nothing to hide my smile. "I was making sure you were safe and not getting your ankles snapped in any beartraps," I jibed, playfully hitting his chest

"Eh, I knew it was there," Dean claimed, waving it off. He rolled the bag of candy back up and stuffed it into his pocket again.

"Yeah, you would've," I teased.

Dean flashed an eyebrow, surrendering his cocky attitude. "God, if Dad were here, he would've rocked my shit for that one," he said. I was about to tell him that I thought the same thing when I realized that the amusement had begun to slip from his face, eyes growing sullen as he yet again mentally tumbled into the large void created by his father's absence.

"Hey," I placed a hand on his chest as I stepped in front of him, bringing us both to a halt. "Hold on," I requested. Dean kept his eyes on my arm, but I didn't mind. Being vulnerable wasn't always easy for him, certainly not while surrounded by prying eyes. Probably sensing we needed a minute, Haley hurriedly moved forward to give us space. I gave her a thankful nod as she went, returning my eyes to Dean. I encouragingly patted his chest a few times, insisting, "We're gonna find him. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I know we will," he smiled reassuringly, his carefree demeanor bouncing back into place. "Come on, let's go."

When we caught up with the rest of the group, Sam looked at us questioningly, silently asking if everything was okay. Dean responded with a nod, but Sam didn't look convinced until I got close enough to tell him that everything was okay. After that, we re-formed our line at the behest of Roy, who was upfront with Sam this time—probably in an attempt by the latter to avoid another confrontation between the short-tempered man and Sam's almost equally short-tempered brother. Ben and Haley stayed with each other, leaving Dean and me in the back.

"This is it," Roy announced as we approached a section free of trees but still fairly overrun with other shrubbery and tall grass. "Blackwater Ridge."

Sam headed right past Roy and into the clearing. "What coordinates are we at?" He inquired.

Roy pulled out his GPS, glancing at it. "Thirty-five and minus one-eleven," he read aloud.

Nodding for me to follow, Dean began making his way over to Sam, keeping his voice hushed as we huddled. "You guys hear that?" He asked. We paused, tuning into the sounds around us, or lack thereof. Except for our breathing, there was nothing but complete silence, not even a rustle of a leaf or buzz of a bug.

"Nothing," I whispered. Even in these expansive woods, it felt like if I spoke at a normal volume, it'd be far too loud.

"Yeah. Not even crickets." Sam added.

"I'm gonna go take a look around," Roy announced, pushing his GPS back into an interior pocket on his jacket.

"That's probably not a great idea," I told him, "Going out by yourself."

Roy pushed between the three of us, looking at me as he passed. "Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said smugly.

As soon as the word left Roy's lips, I knew it would get under Dean's skin, so I held out a preemptive hand. "Not worth it," I said, lifting a pointed eyebrow. "Right?"

Behind closed lips, Dean ran his tongue across his teeth, staring after Roy for a moment before nodding. "Right," he said, looking at the slightly bewildered brother and sister behind us. "Alright, everybody stays together. Let's go."

After another God-knows how long of hiking and finding nothing but the gigantic stump of a knocked-over tree, Roy called for Haley from a few yards ahead of us. She and Ben took off sprinting after him, the three of us following close behind, coming to a crashing halt at the mouth of a slightly bigger clearing where the torn remains of a campsite sat. All of the campers' supplies littered the ground, coolers tipped over and emptied. Each tent, and all the bedding inside, were ripped to shreds—smeared with streaks of now-dried blood.

"Oh my God." Haley gasped, chest heaving as panic arose in her eyes.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy concluded, stepping over one of the tents.

We carefully walked through the destroyed camp, inspecting the area. With each step, Haley's breathing became increasingly shallow, eyes glued to the deep-crimson stains marring the tent's white fabric. "Tommy?" She called out into the trees, unbuckling and dropping her backpack onto the ground so she could move more freely, rushing to the other end of the site where she shouted a louder, "Tommy?!"

I hurried over, placing a hand on her shoulder as I shushed her. "Wait a second, Haley," I said.

"Why?" She asked, looking at me in confusion.

"Something might still be out there," Sam explained, glancing around the trees.

"Guys?" Dean called.

I turned around, looking where he'd just been standing, finding him gone. "So much for staying together," I complained, sharing an exasperated look with Sam, who took the initiative to follow Dean's voice. I looked back at Haley, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Just stay put for a second, okay?"

Haley nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Alright."

Over a thick line of shrubs, Sam's head disappeared. I headed in that direction, finding him standing over a crouched Dean on the other side of the foliage. "What is it?" I asked, nearing the two.

The closer I got, the more I could make out several lines etched deep into the dirt in front of Dean. "The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird," he mumbled, pushing up to stand. "I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog."

At the campsite, Haley was bent down, picking up a shattered cell phone coated in blood. She stared at it, lip quivering as tears filled her eyes. Dean made his way over, crouching down beside her. "Hey, he could still be alive," he encouraged. Haley glanced up, disbelief shining through her tears. Obviously, she had already resigned herself to the worst possible outcome.

Breaking through the deafening silence surrounding us was an abrupt and desperate cry for help. The voice sounded torn and frayed, like whoever it was had used their last bit of energy to release their plea. Roy bolted into the woods, the rest of us hurriedly following behind in the direction the voice had come from. We all came to a halt, scattered around a large clearing looking around frantically for signs of Tommy or maybe one of his friends… but there was absolutely nothing and no one.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" Haley asked me.

"Yeah, it did," I nodded. I held my breath waiting, listening… but there were no more screams, no echoes. Nothing but eerie silence again.

"Everybody back to camp," Sam announced abruptly. There was an urgent tone in his voice that no one, not even Roy, argued with him. By the time we returned, everything we'd put down was gone. Save for whatever weapons were on our person—we were left defenseless.

Haley threw her hands up in frustration. "Our packs!" She exclaimed.

Roy huffed, resting his shotgun over his shoulder. "So much for my GPS and my satellite phone."

"What the hell is going on?"

"It's smart," Sam said, keeping his eyes on the surrounding trees. "It wants to cut us off, so we can't call for help."

"You mean someone," Roy clarified. It amazed me how confident he was in his cluelessness. "Some nutjob out there just stole all our gear," he insisted.

On his way past, Sam tapped my shoulder, silently asking me to follow him. On the other side of the desecrated campsite, Sam spoke to Dean in a hushed tone. "I need to speak with you two… in private," he announced. Ignoring the question-filled look from Haley as we separated from the group, we headed a good distance away. Far enough to be out of earshot.

"What's up?" I asked Sam.

"I think I might know what we're up against," he said, extending a hand toward Dean. "Let me see Dad's journal," Sam requested. Plucking the journal from inside his jacket, Dean gave it to Sam, who purposefully flipped through the pages until he landed on one. "Alright, check that out," he said, turning the book toward us.

On a spread of two pages, the first was titled Wendigo with a black marker stick-figure-like drawing of a thin creature with a squared ribcage and lanky, bony arms that ended with large claw-like fingers smack in the middle of John's scribbled handwritten information written in pen about the monster. On the second page were two lines of symbols drawn in the same black marker, the details of what each one did written in pen beside it. My mouth went dry, my tongue turning to sandpaper. How could we go up against… that with no preparation?

"Oh, come on," Dean scoffed, smiling in disbelief. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west."

"Think about it, Dean," Sam began, then ticking off similarities between what we'd witnessed and the characteristics of a Wendigo. "The claws, the way it can mimic a human voice."

"That's true," I uttered, folding my arms while wishing it weren't. Facing a Wendigo is one thing, but facing a Wendigo without any supplies and a group of civilians tagging along is another beast entirely.

"Great," Dean grumbled, lifting his pistol pointedly. "Well, this is useless then."

"Yeah, pretty much everything we've got is useless," I complained. "I highly doubt our lighters are enough," I said sarcastically.

"Yeah, definitely not," Sam scoffed, pushing the journal back into Dean's hands. He neared the camp but stopped and turned back to his brother, pointing a figure at him. "We gotta get these people to safety," he ordered and left.

"Yeah… we should've talked her out of it," Dean mumbled, eyes full of guilt.

There was no use in dwelling on what we couldn't change now, and I didn't want him to be any harder on himself than he already was, so I bumped my shoulder into his arm. "Are you saying that I was… right?" I recalled his words from last night with a lighthearted smile.

Dean chuckled lightly, doing the same to me as he muttered, "Well, I'm not saying that."

At the camp, Sam began addressing the group. "Alright, listen up–"

"Come on," I urged Dean. "Let's go."

"Things have gotten… more complicated," Sam explained, his words deepening the confusion and fear on Haley and Ben's faces.

"What?" Haley asked, brows furrowed. She looked to Dean for answers as we came into view. "What does that mean?"

Before Dean could say anything, Roy paused his exploration of the ransacked tents and butted in. "Kid, don't worry," he told Sam flippantly. "Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Sam insisted. "If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now."

"One, you're talking nonsense," Roy began, eyes narrowed. "Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders!" He spat.

"Relax," Dean barked at Roy.

Sam attempted to make everyone, but especially the confrontational man, understand. "We never should have let you come out here in the first place, alright? I'm trying to protect you." He insisted.

"You protect me?" Roy laughed condescendingly, stepping up to Sam. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight."

"Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter," Sam said with a tilted, sardonic smile. I'd never seen him act so superior—not when it came to hunting, anyway. It was a strange sight, but I couldn't say I minded considering the person it was directed toward. "It's smarter than you," Sam paused to punctuate the insult, allowing it to fester before continuing. "And it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here."

Roy scowled, nostrils flaring in quickly escalating anger. "You know you're crazy, right?" He snapped with vitriol, grabbing the front of Sam's jacket.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, fiercely pushing Roy's grasp off him before either of us could react. Seemingly, all the anger he'd bottled up came out in that instant. "You ever hunt a Wen–"

When the word hunt left Sam's lips, my feet moved seemingly without my permission—the loose dirt kicked up beneath my boots and Dean's as he started for his brother at the same time I did. Dean thankfully reached Sam before he could finish his sentence, effectively pushing him away from Roy. Haley stepped in and told Roy to stop, putting herself between him and us.

"Chill out," Dean demanded, keeping his eyes locked on Sam warningly.

Sam's chest heaved through heavy breaths, and I placed a hand on his arm, attempting to relax him at least a little bit. "Calm down," I told him, glancing back at Roy with ice-cold eyes. "He's not worth it," I said loud enough for him to hear.

"Everybody just stop," Haley demanded with desperate urgency. She was fed up with all of the drama in the midst of searching for her loved one, and I couldn't blame her one bit. None of this was how it was supposed to go. "Look. Tommy might still be alive," she continued, her steadfast voice breaking slightly as she pointedly looked at us. "And I'm not leaving here without him."

"It's getting late," Dean said. Even if we wanted to drag her and Ben out of here kicking a screaming, we didn't have the time. "This thing is a good hunter in the day but an unbelievable hunter at night," he added. "We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

Haley's brow creased. "How?" She asked.

"We have our ways," I said. Roy scoffed, but I ignored him. "Listen, why don't we go get some wood and build a fire?" I offered Haley. It'd be crucial to our survival, and I'm sure she could use a break, no matter how small.

"Yeah, okay."

Across the campsite, we collected some stray pieces of dry wood for our fire while Sam and Dean drew the appropriate warding symbols into the dirt surrounding the small area we'd be occupying until morning. Thankfully, Roy kept to himself and stayed near Ben, who hadn't spoken since we arrived. You'd think being outside—underneath a nearly cloudless, deepening amber sky—would make it impossible for tension to linger in the air, but it almost felt the exact opposite. It stuck to the tall trees hovering above us and dug into the soil beneath us. There was no shaking it, even after the dust had settled.

After a brief silence, Haley spoke again as she followed me. "So, how do you guys know about this stuff?"

"Uh," I paused, debating how much information I should divulge. There was no reason to go into the gory details, so I kept it sparse and shrugged. "It's just what we do," I said. Haley stared blankly, and I pressed my lips into a tight line. "You probably think we're crazy, huh?"

"Yeah…" Haley uttered. I scoffed, about to turn away when she continued. "But, I believe you so, what does that make me?" She chuckled lightly.

I smiled gently. "More open-minded than most," I told her.

Haley nodded slowly, thinking something over. "So, that thing Dean said about his father–"

"Oh, that's true," I replied quickly. "Yeah, no, he wasn't lying about that."

"How long has he been gone?" She asked, quickly shaking her head at herself. "Sorry, I shouldn't pry."

"No, it's okay," I insisted with a light chuckle. As I dwelled on the length of time John had actually been missing, the smile slipped from my face. "It's been over a month. Which, realistically, isn't a long time," I quickly added the ladder half upon thinking of how stupid it must sound to her that I was worried for a grown man who'd only been gone a month.

"I get why you're worried," Haley said, a despondent look creeping into her eyes. Melancholy waves radiated off of her, swirling around us. "Trust me," she uttered, swallowing hard as her blueberry eyes met mine. They filled with tears that she attempted to blink away.

About an hour later, the sun had finally set, plunging us into near-total darkness—save for the slightest bit of moonlight peering out behind puffy and sullen, ash-grey clouds. The temperature had dropped considerably, cool breezes blowing by every so often, waving through the fire Haley, Ben, and I was crouched around. From the corner of my eye, I caught another glimpse of Sam, who had planted himself toward the edge of camp after we lit the fire and hadn't moved since. His arms were draped over his knees, hands fidgeting with a small twig as they hung in the air. I stared back into the deep orange flickering embers, poking at it with a stick and tossing more wood to ensure it remained burning. We certainly didn't need any mishaps, considering how much was already stacked against us.

"One more time," Haley muttered. "That's–"

"Anasazi symbols," Dean explained, passing by us to scrape the last symbol into the dirt with a stick. "It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them," he explained. Behind us, Roy let out an arrogant bray. Dean kept his gaze ahead, saying, "Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy."

"So, I'm just supposed to believe those cute little doodles are gonna keep the big, bad wolf at bay?" Roy questioned.

"Trust me, I wish that's all it was," I said, glancing at him over my shoulder. He laughed and shook his head, beginning to pace back and forth like a caged animal, constantly crunching leaves beneath his feet. "You wanna keep it down?"

"Why, because the monster will get me?"

Before I could tell him, No, it's because I'm gonna shoot you, I noticed the way Dean was watching Sam. His eyes briefly broke away and darted to me. Even in the darkness, I could see the concern vibrating in them. So, when he closed the small distance between him and his brother, I took that as my cue to join and handed the stick I'd been poking the flames over to Ben, who was kneeling beside his sister. I pushed upright, careful not to move too abruptly so as not to disturb the flickering fire on my way to the boys.

Dean sat down on Sam's left, clasping his hands in front of him. "You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?" He asked.

Sam barely even looked up as he began. "Dean–"

"No," Dean interjected, knowing exactly what Sam was about to say. "You're not fine. You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?" He joked.

Sam didn't even crack the smallest of smiles, keeping his eyes downcast. "Dad's not here," he mumbled, jaw clenching as he swallowed hard. I took the space beside him, tucking my arm around his as I leaned into his side. Sam sighed and continued, glancing over at me and then at Dean. "I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right." Dean nodded. "Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek," he said.

His admittance completely floored me, and I peered around Sam to look at him. "Really?" I asked. If he knew that, why didn't he say so? It could've saved us a lot of time, not to mention we wouldn't be out here right now.

"Yeah, really," Dean replied, shooting an apologetic glance my way for not telling me sooner.

"Then let's get these people back to town, and let's hit the road. Go find Dad," Sam said, tossing down the stick he'd been snapping into pieces. "I mean, why are we still even here?"

Dean moved from his perch and crouched in front of Sam, holding out John's journal. "This is why," he said, placing a hand on it. "This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off," Dean uttered convincingly. "You know, saving people, hunting things—the family business."

"That makes no sense," Sam muttered. The desperation he'd been trying so hard to hide over John's absence and Jessica's death nearly bubbled to the surface of his sea foam gaze, but it was quickly cut by fury. "Why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?" He steadfastly questioned John.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, determination steeled in his eyes. There was essentially nothing John could tell him to do that he wouldn't. Even with him not here, he still held such power over him. "But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it," he finished adamantly, too loyal to wonder what the other options might be. At this point, I was too deep into it to care what they were.

"Dean… no. I gotta find Dad," Sam argued, his nostrils flared as he worked himself into a tailspin—thick tears building in his eyes. "I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about."

"We will find him. And we'll find whatever it was that took Jess from you, too," I insisted, tightening my grip on his arm. "But you have to relax, Sam."

"Relax?" He repeated incredulously. "How the hell can I?"

"Listen," Dean said, his tone of voice much more stern to capture his brother's attention. "You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man."

Staring at the ground, Sam momentarily thought over Dean's words before looking back up with a sad smile. "How do you guys do it?" He asked us. "How does Dad do it?"

"Well, for one—them," Dean explained, pointing over to Haley and Ben. Through the haze of the fire, Haley held Ben's hand, clutching it tightly. Neither of them spoke; they didn't have to. They just simply needed to be, and that was enough. "I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable," he said. "Wanna know what else helps?"

Catching the mischievous look in his eyes, I rolled mine. "Oh, this should be good," I mumbled.

"Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can," Dean said, a wide smile spreading across his face. The ghost of a smile tugged at Sam's lips. It didn't meet his eyes, but it was a start.

There was only a moment of peaceful silence before twigs snapped like breaking bones in the distance. Their echo was quickly overtaken by the same voice as before, crying out for help again; only this time, it sounded more wretched, more excruciating. We hurried back to the camp's center with the rest of the group. The boys searched the perimeter while I tried to calm Haley and Ben, the latter of which clutched onto his sister, face stricken with fear.

"It's gonna be okay," I reassured.

"Help!" The voice screamed again. Sam turned on his flashlight, peering out into the trees.

"He's trying to draw us out," Dean told everyone. "Just stay cool, stay put."

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy mocked, shotgun at the ready.

Any filter I might have possessed disappeared. I was done with his sour, holier-than-thou attitude. "Why don't you quit being a jackass?" I snapped at him.

Before he could arrive at a decent comeback, another shout reverberated through the trees, shaking them. "Help! Help me!" The voice cried. It sounded so believably distressed that if I didn't know better, I would run out to try and find whoever it belonged to.

If there were any doubt about what we were dealing with, the guttural growl that resonated from deep within the dense treeline confirmed it. Goosebumps tingled across my skin, making me shiver. That was one of the most immobilizing sounds I'd ever heard. Dean looked back at me, another apologetic look in his eyes.

"Okay, that's no grizzly," Roy said, pointing his gun in the direction the sound came from.

"You think?" I questioned.

"It's okay. You'll be all right, I promise." Haley tried to convince Ben, who was mere seconds from hyperventilating.

"Just sit down, okay?" I instructed gently, helping Haley lower her brother to his knees.

Gone were the snaps of twigs and rustles of leaves, and in its place was absolutely nothing. The silence was arguably worse than the noise. There were no indicators of where it was—how close or far. My paranoid mind wandered, imagining a small woodland creature—frightened in its own right—running through one of the carefully drawn symbols and breaking our protective barrier. Would any of us be fast enough to fix it in time? Most likely not. Lost in my own thoughts, Haley's unexpected shriek combined with the whirling howl of wind and bristling leaves as the Wendigo's large, lanky silhouette sped past the campsite soared my heart into my throat. The ground crunched, and each stomp grew more violent than the last as the monster realized there was no way of getting in.

"It's here," Sam announced.

I jumped, not because of the large branch the Wendigo had just snapped, but because Roy shot blindly into the trees, hurriedly following it up with a few more. The Wendigo yelped in pain. "I hit it!" Roy exclaimed, disappearing within the thick brush.

"Roy, no!" Dean yelled after him, rushing to the edge of the camp. "Shit," he huffed.

The look that passed between the two of them sunk my already erratic heart into the depths of my stomach. "Stay here," I gently but sternly told Haley and Ben. Haley nodded, dunking a long stick into the fire to create a makeshift torch, all while clutching her brother to her side.

I reached the boys just as they were about to step out of the circle. Dean stopped and turned to me. "You're staying here," he ordered with a point of his finger.

"While you two risk your lives to chase down that idiot?" I scoffed, tossing a hand out in the direction Roy had gone. I shook my head. "No way."

"Someone's gotta stay with them," he said, gesturing to the Collins' behind me.

"They're safe–"

"I can't be worried about you and Sam out there," Dean stated firmly. "You're staying."

He was right. I didn't like it, and I certainly wouldn't tell him, but he was right. "You better come back," I uttered relentingly.

"You know it," Dean answered with a wink, giving me an encouraging smile before he and Sam left, the leaves rattling as they exited our protective circle. I wished I was as positive as him, but instead, the only emotion that overtook me was an overwhelming layer of nervous dread.

Staring at the now-stilled leaves, I realized my standing here wasn't doing anyone any good and eventually returned to the fire, sitting cross-legged in front of it on the opposite side of where Haley and Ben stood. "You two should relax," I suggested, watching the flames flicker. "We're safe."

Haley leaned the stick she'd been clutching back into the fire, slowly sinking onto the ground next to me. Ben followed soon after, crouching beside his sister. "Are you okay?" She asked me, concern swirling in her blue orbs.

Bringing in a deep breath, I held it in my expanded lungs for a second or two. I knew the boys could take care of themselves, but this wasn't just a vampire or werewolf; this was a big, fast, and frankly… scary thing. "Yeah. I'm fine," I lied.

Like I'd done for her, Haley placed a comforting hand on my arm. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, and I was debating going into the woods to search for the boys when a rustling behind us caught my attention. I half expected to turn and see Sam dragging a blood-covered Dean behind him or vice versa, so I was more than relieved when they broke through the treeline in near-perfect condition, save for a few scratches here and there due to searching the dark woods.

"Oh, thank god," I breathed, hurrying to hug Dean tightly.

"Told you I'd be back," he said, the smugness in his voice contrasting the sweet smile he wore when I pulled back.

"Yeah, you did," I said with a nod. We parted ways, and I wrapped an arm around a concerned-looking Sam. "Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replied, patting my back reassuringly.

"Where's Roy?" Haley asked tentatively.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, looking back into the trees. "Couldn't find him."

"So, it, what, killed him?"

"We don't know," Sam said. Roy was a jerk, sure, but he didn't deserve whatever it was the Wendigo might do to him.

A heavy sigh escaped Haley's lips. "I don't– I mean, these types of things, they aren't supposed to be real."

"I wish I could tell you different," Dean said.

"So, what do we do?" She asked in a constricted voice, wrapping an arm around Ben's shoulders to keep him close.

"Stick to the plan; wait 'til morning."

"How do we know it's not out there watching us?"

"We don't," I told her honestly, much to her dismay.

"But we're safe as long as we stay put," Dean added, tucking his gun back into his belt. "Get comfy."

Waiting for daylight to come had never been so tedious. Yes, we were safe, but that didn't completely remove the fear. Every snap of a twig had me looking over my shoulder, and every chirp of an insect made me inspect the treetops. The sky remained dark, with no streaks of light coming through. It seemed never-ending. And if that's how I felt, I couldn't imagine how Haley and Ben did. Most of the time, they stayed by the fire, keeping close to each other.

About a foot away, I found my spot beside Dean, leaning into his side with his arm draped around me as we rested against a large tree stump. On the other side of the campsite, Sam was flipping through John's journal, absentmindedly playing with the rosary that hung from it. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off his hunched form.

From the moment I met them, I knew the goal in mind; find the thing that killed Mary. Revenge was practically the only thing John focused on. Over time, it spiraled into something else; this life became less about vengeance and more about helping people, but the desire for it was always lying in wait, lurking in the shadows. We told ourselves each job pushed us closer to it, even though it seemed to venture further away. That never mattered; we kept trying. Somehow now it seemed closer than ever before and maybe that was because Sam was on board. It should be a relief that he finally wanted in so badly, but his unrelenting attitude toward it scared me.

No one knew what John was like before Mary's death, not really. Dean remembered little things here and there, but he was only a small child. Certainly too young to understand the depths of a personality. But I knew in my bones that John wasn't the same man that he is today. There were moments when I could see glimpses into the person he used to be before the revenge he set out to achieve scarred him from the inside out. Watching the same thing happen to Sam in real time was terrifying. The person I knew was fading more and more with each passing hour. I didn't want him to lose himself as John did, and I had no way of stopping it.

"We're okay," Dean said, playing with the ends of my ponytail. He probably assumed my unease was due to the Wendigo, and he wasn't wrong, not totally.

"I hope so," I replied. Maybe it was for the best that Dean thought I was speaking of our current, current situation and not his brother. He was already concerned about Sam, and with us unable to have a real conversation with the subject of said conversation within earshot, there'd be no point in bringing anything up right now.

"You should try and get some sleep."

"Oh, yeah, all this just screams naptime," I chuckled and shook my head. "No, I'm good," I peered up at him. "Why don't you?"

"Nah, I'm alright," Dean replied nonchalantly.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to be sleep deprived," I said pointedly.

"I'll catch up on it later."

I shook my head. "You can't catch up on sleep."

"Maybe not, but I can try," he joked, running his fingers through my hair. "Anything you wanna talk about?" Dean fished. I knew what he wanted, but I was scared to give it to him.

I'd been so distracted by everything else, but now my worries were free to run. The forest slowly closed in on me. Each tree, each source of oxygen, was suddenly suffocating, looming over me menacingly at the very thought of uttering things aloud. "Can we not do this here?" I asked quietly. "Please?"

No doubt seeing the fear in my eyes, Dean relented with a nod. "Yeah, okay," he said. I snuggled into his side, and he tucked my head under his chin. With the impending conversation successfully pushed off once again, my chest expanded with a full breath.

Minutes passed slowly, each one feeling like an hour. Being afraid to sleep was an excellent motivator when you needed to stay awake. Almost every time I blinked, images of my last nightmare flashed behind my eyelids. Dean noticed my sporadic, hitched breathing, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he held me a bit tighter each time. The twilight that surrounded us appeared neverending, and when the sun finally began to rise, casting deep orange hues over the steady-lightening sky, I almost thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But, thankfully, it wasn't, and we were okay to head out, something Dean just announced to the siblings while Sam did a once over the campsites parameter.

"And we'll be safe out there?" Haley asked from her spot in front of Tommy's destroyed tent, eyes darting between Dean and me.

"Safer," Dean said.

"We won't let anything happen to you guys," I said adamantly.

Leaves crushed behind me, and I turned to find Sam making his way over. "So, we've got half a chance in the daylight," he paused. "And I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch."

A slight look of surprise crossed Dean's features before settling into a small smile. "Well, hell, you know I'm in," he said.

"But we have to get them out first," I said quietly, nodding to Haley and Ben.

"We won't have the time," Sam said.

"Then we make it," I argued.

"Wait," Haley called. "That thing took Tommy. We need to be here."

I shook my head. "Haley–"

"Please," she pleaded, her eyes brimming with pain. If I were in her shoes, I'd feel the same. I'd want to do whatever I could, no matter the risk. When I thought of it that way, it became exponentially harder to say no. I couldn't do it.

"Okay," I nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"...what are these things, exactly?" Ben asked, speaking to us for the first time since we'd been out here.

"Well," Sam took the journal tucked under his arm and flipped to the two pages dedicated to Wendigos, showing Haley and Ben. "Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means evil that devours. He explained.

"They're hundreds of years old," Dean said, moving some clutter on the ground with his boot. "Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter."

"How's a man turn into one of those things?" Haley asked with curious eyes. She was handling this a lot better than I expected.

"Well, it's always the same," Dean said, bending down to pick up a stray glass bottle and cloth. "During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp."

"Like the Donner Party," Ben said.

"Yeah, exactly like that," I told him.

"Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities," Sam continued. "Speed, strength, immortality."

"The more eat, the more you want," I added. "And over time, it takes away your humanity, and you become this ravenous… thing. You can get never get enough."

Haley's curiosity slipped. "So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?" She inquired hesitantly.

"You're not gonna like it," Dean said.

"Tell me."

"More than anything, a Wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake, it keeps its victims alive. It stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants," he said. Haley's lips tightened. She tried to keep a tough exterior for Ben's benefit, but her despair was obvious. "If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there."

Haley pulled in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "And then, how do we stop it?"

"Well, guns are useless, so are knives. Basically–" Dean lifted the items in his hands. "We gotta torch the sucker."

"You're joking," she balked.

"Not joking," I replied.

"That means you have to get close."

"You guys can still leave," I gently nudged, hoping she'd give in. The siblings shared a glance, silently steeling their resolve. It was clear there was no changing their minds.

If I thought I was excessively cautious before, the moment we exited the circle, a new wave crashed over me. Still, my frenzied nerves didn't stop me from spotting the deep, bloody claw marks marring the mid-section of trees spaced out every few feet. Each one I saw, I made it a point to show one of the boys and vice versa. The section of woods we happened upon—while looking like every other part of the forest—somehow bore a striking resemblance to the one from my nightmare.

My stomach filled with bricks, weighing me down into the loose soil. I expected to plummet into darkness when I blinked, opening my eyes to find everyone gone. Almost as if to test my sanity, I blinked, letting my eyelids linger shut an extra millisecond or two. Of course, I was still here, and so was everyone else, but the jarring, panicked hum didn't go away.

"I'll never forgive you for this, you know," I told Dean teasingly, trying to take my mind off its imminent spiral.

"Can't say I blame you," he chuckled, fiddling with the Molotov.

A few feet in front of us, Sam stopped before a tree, looking over the bark intently. As we caught up, deeper, more prevalent gashes blemished the wood. "Hey," Sam called as we neared.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"You know, I was thinking. These claw prints are so clear and distinct. They're almost too easy to follow."

My body tensed. "So, you think it's trying to trap us?" I asked.

"It's smart," Sam shrugged. "it could."

"Great," I huffed. "Just what we need."

Almost as if on cue, a rumbling growl rattled the thicket behind us. Everywhere I looked, leaves were trembling. A figure too fast to make out dashed by and out of sight. Branches creaked, a few of them falling to the ground nearby. I followed their sound in time to spot Roy's lifeless body slipping from the top of a particularly tall tree. Haley, who had been standing underneath, jumped out of the way just in time, falling onto the ground at the same time Roy did. He landed with a sickening crack, a puff of dirt flying around him. I hurried to help Haley to her feet. She gripped my arm tightly, true fear breaking through her carefully constructed wall for the first time.

Dean crouched down to take a look at Roy, a grimace on his face as he righted himself. "His neck's broken," he announced. Another, much closer gnarl bounced off the trees. "Okay, run," he said. Run, go!" Dean ordered firmly, taking my arm to lead me in the opposite direction.

We took off, sprinting through the dense underbrush. It'd be difficult to traverse on any given day, so navigating it while running from a creature twenty times faster than you was grueling. My calves burned, but I ignored the sensation and kept going. Jagged branches made up a particularly compact section of the woods, cutting and scraping any exposed skin in their path. Thankfully, I managed to shield my eyes, but I couldn't say the same for my face and the scratches across my cheek.

Behind me was an abrupt bustle of leaves followed by a grunt. I skidded to a stop, hurrying back to help Sam pick up Ben from the dirt floor. "Come on, I gotcha," Sam coaxed the scared teenager.

"You okay?" I asked him. Ben simply nodded in response, seemingly unable to find his voice. I patted his arm comfortingly and turned back for the small clearing I stopped in. "Come on, we–" I paused, shocked not to find Dean and Haley anywhere in sight. "Where did they go?" I asked Sam.

"I don't know, I–" Sam's reply was interrupted by a piercing scream in the distance.

Ben's eyes widened frantically. "Haley?!" He shouted, taking off in the direction of the wail. We bolted after him, and the three of us reached a short hill overlooking a surprisingly sparse area. .

Sam bent down, straightening with a shard of the broken Molotov bottle. Worry filled his eyes. "Dean?!" He yelled in desperation, to no avail.

My chest clenched, air rushing out of my lungs fast and strained simultaneously. I scanned the immediate area, hoping to find something—anything—that told me where they were taken but came up empty-handed.

"What do we do?" Ben questioned nervously, fiddling with the lanyard hanging around his neck.

Everything in me wanted to panic, but I knew I had to keep a level head. At least somewhat. "We gotta find its hideout," I said.

Sam agreed with a nod. "But stay close," he added to Ben. "This thing wants us separated and scared."

This time, our steps were filled with even more determination than before. This was more than helping people, this was personal. I kept my eyes peeled for any signs of Dean and Haley or where the Wendigo could have taken them. If it did take them somewhere and had not done what it did to Roy. Each time my mind drifted to those dark spaces, I had to reach within and pull myself out. Dean was still alive, he had to be.

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" Ben wondered out of the blue.

"Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, pissed it off." Sam replied, slowing down to match Ben's stride.

Stepping around the two, I remained within a foot of them but took the lead this time. I carefully searched the ground for tracks when something unnaturally orange lying in the otherwise neutral surroundings caught my eye. I bent down to pick it up, huffing an amused laugh at the brightly-colored orb pinched between my thumb and pointer finger. "You've got to be kidding me," I uttered in disbelief.

"What is it?" Sam asked, stopping behind me. I stood up and handed him the small item. He looked at it in confusion before it registered. "Dean," he said with a smile.

"Yeah."

"It's better than breadcrumbs," he said, tossing the M&M to the side.

The trail stretched for a good mile, at least, up an incline of sharp, moss-covered rocks, through overgrown vines, and down a steep hill—all leading up to the mouth of a long-abandoned mineshaft. I had no idea how Dean possessed the wherewithal to do this while being dragged.

Above the mine's entryway hung a huge, dirty, rusted sign reading:

WARNING! DANGER!
DO NOT ENTER EXTREMELY TOXIC MATERIAL

The threat of a Wendigo far outweighed the toxic material, but neither made a difference. One way or another, I was going in there. Save for the entrance and a few cracks at the start of the tunnel that allowed in the budding sunlight, it was pitch-black. Sam flicked on his flashlight so we could see, and we began our descent into the mineshaft. Almost instantly, it became difficult to breathe—what little amount of oxygen left down here was tainted by the sickening scent of decay. Each step on the damp wooden tracks only worsened the horrendous smell. Halfway down the first shaft, a guttural moan echoed down one of the adjacent tunnels, reverberating off the walls. Sam shut his flashlight, and I grabbed Ben's arm as we hurried to the nearest passage, flattening ourselves against the wall for cover.

Heavy footsteps stomped closer and closer. I stopped breathing, listening intently. Highlighted by the light shining through the entrance, the Wendigo's silhouette appeared—its tall and lanky form illuminated just enough to make out its scarred-over flesh. It lumbered by, long, clawed limbs nearly dragging along the dirt as it went. Ben panted, a scream threatening to bubble from his lips. Thankfully, Sam clamped a hand over his mouth to silence him. The Wendigo retreated down a different tunnel, disappearing from view. I released the breath I'd been holding, swallowing to coat my dry and crackled throat. Sam was the first to step out of our hiding spot, tentatively turning his light back on; he looked both ways like he was crossing the street before nodding for Ben and me to follow. The three of us continued our trek down the mine until the boards beneath our feet began creaking loudly, straining to hold our weight.

In a huge puff of dust and onslaught of splitters, we crashed through the floor, landing on the hard ground below. When I hit the ground, the back of my head smacked into the compacted dirt. I groaned and rolled onto my side, blinking a few times to clear my cloudy vision. Mere inches from my face sat a pile of bones and a skull, the latter of which had a chunk of rotten flesh dangling from it. Out of instinct, I jerked away, and the room spun. Ben released a disgusted grunt, desperately skittering away from another set of discarded remains.

Sam sat up behind him, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he reassured. Ben nodded weakly, keeping his eyes locked on the ground while still breathing heavily. "You okay?" Sam asked me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, pushing to my knees. I squinted in the darkness of the makeshift graveyard, only able to see what was illuminated by the light seeping through the cracked floorboards above.

About a foot away were the faint outlines of bodies hanging from the ceiling by their wrists. I stood and walked around Sam and Ben, cautiously approaching the figures. The thudding in my chest escalated the closer I got, clopping in my ears like the hooves of a running horse. The closer I got, the better I could make out who they were, and quickened my pace until I reached him. Somehow I retained enough sense not to attract the attention of the patrolling Wendigo and kept my voice low.

"Oh my god," I muttered, hands fluttering around Dean frantically, unsure where to make contact. Save for the dirt he was covered in and the scrapes filled with drying blood, he didn't look injured, but I had no way of knowing for sure. Finally settling my hand on his chest, I waited for it to rise and fall. Just when fear gripped my heart, a shallow breath came and went.

"He's alive," I announced to Sam as he rushed over. Ben zoomed past us both, calling for and shaking Haley. Sam grabbed the front of his brother's jacket, jerking him forward, trying to wake him to no avail.

I didn't love what I was about to do, but I had no other choice. We couldn't carry him out, not if he were unconscious. I gently pushed Sam aside to take his place. "Sorry, babe," I muttered an apology to Dean before slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound bounced off the cavern walls, echoing in the darkness. Dean's eyes snapped open, wide and confused. Behind me, Sam let out a shaky but thankful laugh.

"Oh, thank god," I breathed in relief. From Sam's flashlight, I could see Dean's pupils jump to normal size as they adjusted to the shadows. "Are you okay, baby?" I asked, gently touching the spot I struck.

"Yeah," Dean slurred in a gravel-filled voice, still dazed. "Did– did you just hit me?"

"What? No!" I sputtered, pulling my hand away, eyes darting around momentarily. "Maybe," I mumbled quickly and waved a hand. "But that's not important. You're alive; that's what matters."

Even in his disoriented state, Dean narrowed his eyes at me. "Right," he said, unconvinced.

"Let's get you down," I said. Dean grunted in response as I pulled out my knife, reaching up to cut the ropes secured around his wrists while Sam supported his weight.

"Kinky, huh?" Dean chuckled weakly when my chest brushed against the length of his torso as I reached to undo his binds. Of course, even with the injuries he sustained, he couldn't help but make a comment. Sam let out an audible grunt of disgust, and I pulled back to stare at Dean's scratched-up face in disbelief.

"You're unbelievable," I laughed.

Cutting the last bit of rope, Dean groaned as he was freed. Sam assisted me in lowering him safely to the ground. I knelt beside him, keeping a hand on his arm. Ben had gotten a groggy Haley down.

"You sure you're alright?" Sam asked his brother.

"Yeah," Dean grimaced, adjusting himself up against the wall. "I'm fine."

"Can you walk?" I asked

Dean shook his head slightly. "I'll be able to in a minute. Son of a bitch whacked me pretty hard," he paused to breathe. "Speaking of, where is he?"

"I don't know. It left, I think. Probably not for long, though."

Boots shuffled as Haley scrambled to her feet, slowly approaching another body hanging to the side of the cavern. "Tommy…?" Haley murmured.

When he didn't respond, a quiet sob escaped her lips. Dean uttered a muffled shit under his breath. All that we went through—all that they went through—just to find their brother wasn't alive? It isn't fair.

Haley reached up to brush her fingertips across her brother's cheek, and as soon as her skin came in contact with his, Tommy jolted awake, startling all of us. "Cut him down!" She demanded, clutching the front of his t-shirt. "We're gonna get you home," Haley told Tommy as Sam and Ben got him down.

It didn't take long for the happiness I felt watching the Collins siblings reunite to dissipate with the realization that the most difficult part was yet to come. We still had to get the hell out. Tommy was weak, he could barely stand on his own. Running wasn't an option, and fighting back would be, well, impossible.

Although my thoughts were racing, I noticed Dean eying something over my shoulder. "What is it?" I asked, glancing behind myself.

"What's in that?" He asked, nodding to a beat-up duffle bag lying underneath debris. I dragged the black duffle bag over to us and unzipped it so Dean could rummage through. "Well, I'll be dammed," he smiled slyly, pulling out a flair gun.

I lifted an eyebrow. "And that'll work?"

"Worth a shot," he shrugged, pushing to stand.

"Wait, Dean–" I protested, reaching out to stop him.

"What?"

"Let me help you."

"I don't–" he protested until he saw the agitated look I sported and promptly stopped. "Alright, alright. Don't slap me again."

"Don't give me a reason to," I grumbled as I got up. I didn't bother to dust the soot off my jeans, knowing they'd only get dirty again. Snaking an arm underneath Dean's, I supported him to his feet. He didn't put nearly as much weight on me as he could've, but at least he let me help.

Once stable, he reached back into the bag and took out the other flare gun. "Check it out," Dean announced to the group, holding up and twirling the guns.

"Flare guns," Sam smiled, making his way over to take one. "These'll work."


Fortunately, there was a tunnel out of the small section of cave we'd fallen into, so we didn't have to climb out. Unfortunately, it brought us through a portion of the mine we hadn't covered already. Even though it looked the same, the layout was wildly different. It would've given me at least a little bit of comfort to retrace our steps, but we didn't have the luxury—not with Tommy in the condition he was; his siblings supported his weight almost entirely with his arms slung over their shoulders. Of course, Dean took the lead, not listening to either Sam or me when we said it'd be best for him to hang back just in case he was hurt more than we could see. I stayed near Haley and her brothers, keeping an eye on Sam bringing up the rear.

The only sounds that could be heard reverberating off the walls were our shuffled footsteps along the hold tracks and Tommy's tired breathing. It was so quiet, and that was somehow more unsettling. We came upon crossing intersections of tunnels—one in front and one to our right—but before we could even think about deciding which one to go down, that same warning growl we'd gotten so used to hearing echoed through the shaft in front of us, growing closer by the second. I instantly regretted my desire for noise.

Holding a hand behind himself to silently tell us to stop, Dean halted at the mouth of the mine, craning his neck to look down the trench. "Looks like someone's home for supper," he said as he righted himself.

"We'll never outrun it," Haley muttered, her voice shaking.

A calculating look crossed Dean's eyes as they passed from mine to Sam's, silently exchanging his plan with us. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Dean asked. I adamantly shook my head.

Never in a million years would I think he should use himself as bait, but it was always the first thing on his damn mind.

"Yeah," Sam answered with a nod. "I think so."

My eyes widened. "No way," I declined. "Dean, you're not doing that."

"We don't have a choice," he argued.

"Yes, we do!"

"What are you gonna do?" Haley asked.

"Listen to me," Dean addressed her and her brothers. "You stay with Sam and Tori, they're gonna get you guys out of here."

"Dean–" I began.

"It's gonna be fine," he told me.

"And if it's not?" I questioned, trying to hold my fear-charged emotions at bay. Dean didn't reply with words; instead, he closed the small gap between us and intertwined his fingers through my hair, bringing my lips to his in a kiss that said everything we couldn't at this moment—everything we both secretly feared we might not get to say again.

He pulled back before I was ready to part ways and winked at me, backing up toward the passage. "Chow time, you freaky bastard!" Dean yelled. "Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good!" He waved for us to go and disappeared from view.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam scope out the shaft to our right to ensure it was safe. I should have gone with him, but I couldn't move. "Alright, come on," Sam coaxed forcefully, reaching to grab my arm. "Hurry!"

Somehow I unstuck my feet, and we rushed in the opposite direction Dean had gone. It wasn't before the growling returned, growing louder. Behind us, the tall, thin shadow of the Wendigo crept across the wall, looming closer.

Sam came to a halt, pointing his flare gun at it. The moment he looked over his shoulder at me with that same stupid self-sacrificing look his brother wore only minutes before, I knew exactly what was on his mind. "Take them out of here," he told me.

"Sam, no," I insisted. There's no way I'm going to allow both of them out of my sight. Not now. I couldn't take that chance.

"I'll hold it off–"

"You can't!"

"I'll be close behind; just go now!" Sam demanded.

Despite every fiber of my being screaming for me to argue—to stay with him, I paused when I saw a glint of stubbornness in Sam's eyes, one eerily similar to the look I'd grown accustomed to seeing John sport. I relented, corralling the frightened siblings to the end of the tunnel. Ben exited first, helping Haley and me lift Tommy out onto the grass and behind on some rocks a little ways away from the entrance.

Haley's understanding eyes were all the confirmation I needed to know that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't hiding my panic well. Everything about this situation was wrong: before, Sam had been the one to usher people away, the one to be sheltered from the things that went bump in the night. For the past ten years, it was ingrained in me to watch out for and protect him. And now, I was the one waiting in the wings. It didn't matter that he was an adult; it didn't matter that was more than capable—he was still my little brother. If there was danger, it should be me facing it.

A shot echoed in the mineshaft, the flare illuminating the tunnel with bright yellow smoke. "Stay here," I told Haley and her brothers. I felt bad for leaving them alone; I wasn't supposed to. But Sam should have known I'd find a way to come back; I had a history of not doing what I was told.

From the look Haley gave me, I knew she understood, so I ventured back into the mine. Rushed footsteps approached, and Sam broke through the hazy air. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied briskly, grabbing my arm.

"Did you get it?"

"Uh…" he trailed off. "I think so!"

"You think so?"

A guttural groan reverberated off the walls surrounding us, confirming that he did, in fact, miss. "Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry!" Sam pressed breathlessly as we picked up speed, and he pulled me down an adjacent shaft in an effort to lure the creature away from the siblings waiting outside.

We didn't stop until we reached the end of the tunnel, and with nowhere else to go, we backed up against the wall. "Get behind me," Sam said, not giving me much choice as he sandwiched me between his back and the rock.

We didn't breathe, we didn't move an inch; silence overtook us, and for a moment, I thought the Wendigo had gone, but any hope dashed away with the monster's sickeningly labored panting and heavy stomping across the gravel littering the compact dirt. I grabbed Sam's arm, clutching it tightly as we waited with bated breath.

The monster came into view, lumbering closer, until Dean shouted, "Hey! Come get me, you ugly son of a bitch!"

From the unexpected noise, the Wendigo stopped and turned toward him. Dean took the shot, the flare making a sharp flimp! as it sailed through the air before lodging into the Wendigo's stomach. The monster screamed in pain as the flames tore through its thin flesh, rendering it a pile of ash on the ground.

"Not bad, huh?" Dean boasted, lowering his gun and settling a big smile.

"Yeah," I smiled through a shaky laugh. "But what took you so long?" I teased.


By the time we left the woods, nightfall was well on its way; golden orange whisps filled the sky. We somehow all piled into the Impala, Haley, Tommy, and Ben in the backseat, leaving Sam, Dean, and myself sharing the front. I insisted on driving, much to Dean's dismay. There was no way I was about to let him before we had the chance to ensure he was okay.

At the Ranger's station, where the proper authorities were called, paramedics had already checked Ben, Sam, and me out. After determining that we were okay, two police officers interviewed us next to a police cruiser. A few feet away, Dean leaned on the trunk of the Impala—all cuts and scrapes patched up—talking to Haley.

"And the bear came back again after you yelled at it?" The Officer asked, jotting down our statements in his notepad.

"That's when it circled the campsite," Ben said. "I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred—nine hundred pounds," he added animatedly. Sam and I nodded along to his story.

Unsurprisingly, the officer bought it hook, line and sinker. "Alright, we'll go after it first thing," he said, tucking the pad into his back pocket. I excused myself then, slowly making my way over to Dean. He smiled at me over Haley's shoulder.

"So… I don't know how to thank you," I overheard Haley say. Dean smirked lasciviously at her and she scoffed. "Must you cheapen the moment?" She wondered with a smile.

"Yeah!" He replied jokingly.

Haley folded her arms. "And what does Tori think about that?"

"She thinks he doesn't stand a chance," I said as I approached.

Haley smiled at me before returning her attention to Dean. "You know, you better take good care of that girl. Not everyone would put up with you, I'm sure."

"Oh, don't I know it." Dean said, reaching out to pull me to his side, tucking me under his arm as I wrapped mine around him.

"Here," Haley said, handing me a small piece of paper. "Call me sometime, okay? Just to talk about whatever. I won't mind. I know it's hard always being around… boys," she finished in jest.

I chuckled lightly, putting the paper in my pocket with a nod. It was something I couldn't do, but still, a nice gesture all the same. She didn't have to know that she would never hear from me again, not right now. "Thanks, Haley," I said, sliding out of Dean's grasp and into her hug.

"Take care."

"You too," I replied, patting her back a couple of times as we parted. Leaning back into Dean's chest, he intertwined his arms around me, placing a kiss on top of my head.

One of the paramedics tending to Tommy exited the ambulance and came over. "You riding with your brothers?" He asked Haley.

"Yeah," she nodded. Sam made his way to us with Ben in tow, and Haley held out a hand for him. "Let's go," she said. Ben didn't say anything, but he grabbed his sister's hand and held it tightly, and that was enough.

"Thank you, guys, so much," Haley told the three of us. She and Ben were about to walk away when Haley paused and turned back. "I hope you find your father."

The mention of John was enough to make our collective bubble burst. Once happy expressions at the Collins' safe reunion turned melancholy. An abnormal mixture of elation swirled with despair. I wasn't sure which would win. Neither of the boys said anything; they just nodded. Haley meant well, so I forced a small, thankful smile onto my face that dropped once they turned. Just before the ambulance doors shut, Haley hugged Tommy, and for a moment, any bleakness filling my chest washed away; for a moment, it made up for each and every struggle. All the hardships didn't seem so dreadful anymore.

"Man, I hate camping," Dean complained, holding me tighter against him.

"Me too," Sam agreed, sitting on the bumper next to us.

"One good thing came from it," I began, trying to lighten the mood with a teasing smirk aimed at Dean as I peered up at him "I got her number," I finished, waving the small piece of paper.

"What happened when Sam and I were gone?" Dean asked with wide eyes. His shoulders dropped dejectedly, shaking his frame behind me. "Don't tell me I missed something good."

"Oh, yeah. We rolled around naked by the fire," I said in faux seriousness. Dean's eyes grew wide, his mouth falling open slightly. His belief in my sarcasm could only be chalked up to getting knocked around in the woods. Thankfully, his head was hard enough to resist any permanent damage. "Yeah. Right in front of her baby brother," I finished pointedly with a shake of my head.

"Jesus," Dean breathed. "Don't do that to me."

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You're a moron," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Dean smacked Sam's shoulder, the sound echoing through the night air. "Who asked you?" He complained.

"Alright, alright," I laughed, putting a hand between them. "Enough," I said, settling back into Dean's arms. A comfortable lull of silence fell over us as we watched most of the police cruisers drive away, no doubt off to wait around for their shift to be over, considering this was the most exciting thing to happen in a town this small.

"Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?" Dean asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied. Much to my surprise, a small grin spread across his face. "But in the meantime? I'm driving."

Even more surprising was Dean's reaction. I thought for sure that Sam had missed his opportunity, but Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. He looked down at them in silent contemplation before tossing them to Sam, who caught them with an excited smile.

I could almost see the light bulb go off above Dean's head."You know what that means, right?" He asked me.

"What?" I wondered.

"We can sit in the back," he said. I raised an eyebrow. "Together."

"Okay..."

Dean smirked, glancing at my lips. "We can make out."

"If you do that, I'm driving the car into a ditch," Sam threatened on his way to the driver's door.

I tried not to laugh as Dean's head snapped up so fast that he risked whiplash. "Like hell you will," he spat.

Sam simply shrugged and sunk into the Impala. I turned around in Dean's arms, fixing the collar of his jacket. "You know, as tempting as your offer is, I think you should get some sleep," I said.

"I'm fine, I was out of it before–" Dean began.

"Knocked out," I clarified.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "Same thing," he said nonchalantly.

I cracked a smile. "Not the same thing," I said, letting my hands slide from his collar to his chest. "You know, you really should rest up because I was thinking that we could get our own room at our next stop, and–"

Dean's eyes widened comically. "What are we waiting for?" He asked excitedly, gently, but hurriedly, moving me back by my hips so he could hop down off the Impala. "Let's go," he said, taking my hand and leading me to the car. I chuckled, shaking my head at him.

At the back door, Dean kissed me and winked as he slipped into the car. Sam was already watching us, only breaking his gaze when I shut my door. Once on the road, it wasn't long before Dean was softly snoring in the backseat. In the peaceful safety of the Impala, I rested my head against the window, finally letting my exhausted muscles relax.

The haze tried to force its way down my throat, clawing with dagger-tipped fingers as I choked. I stumbled, and the center of my back hit a tree. The brittle bark cracked, crumbling to the ground beneath my feet. I used the trunk to support myself as I regained footing and fled. The wind howled, whipping my hair into my face and obstructing my already diminished vision. Discarded twigs poked my bare feet, and offshoots from tangled vines scraped my exposed legs and arms, but I didn't stop. If I did, it would get me; I knew it. With each frantic, unsteady stride, the figure-like smog followed just close enough to keep me paranoid. It appeared behind every tree, within every bush. My lungs burned, begging for a more significant breath than I could muster while trudging through the mossy dirt. Thunder boomed above, shaking the land below. Somehow the sky was growing even darker by the second; any more, and I'd be unable to see my hand in front of my face.

Just as I neared a break in the thicket, my foot caught on a tree root, and I flew to the ground, bracing myself for impact on the dry soil. Instead, I landed in a large, warm puddle. A sickeningly bitter and rotten scent filled my nose—coating the back of my throat. It filled me with nausea I was barely able to contain. My fear of the fog stalking me evaded my mind as my eyes focused on the thick, deep red liquid drenching the front of my body. A tremor wracked my body, quaking through my already cracked and anxious mind. I should have wondered whose blood this was… but I already knew. Arising out of the pool's depths, a blood-soaked hand grabbed my forearm, erupting an inhuman exclamation of horror from my lips. The disembodied extremity dug its nails into my skin, ripping my flesh as it jerked me forward.

A gasp of air forced its way through my clenched throat, waking me from a sleep I didn't even know I had fallen into. Before I registered where I was, I patted my hands across my arms and chest, coming up with dry, clean palms. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sam nervously darting his eyes from the slick blacktop beneath the Impala and over to me.

"Bad dream?" He inquired gently.

I gulped down the thickness in my throat. "Uh… no. No, it was just, uh– it was nothing," I said. Sam nodded, unconvinced. Before he could say anything else, I changed the subject. "How's Dean been?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder to see that he was still sound asleep, lying in the backseat with his jacket over him.

"Fine," Sam uttered, knowing exactly what I was doing.

"You want me to take over?" I asked, nodding to the steering wheel.

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm good," he insisted. Though his demeanor was way less urgent now, I still noticed traces of the stubborn Sam I'd seen before. The one that struck me with the realization that he could hold his own.

"Hey, Sam," I called.

"Yeah?"

"I know things have been tough lately, but I just wanted to say that you did really good today," I said. Sam's surprised eyes fell on me for a second. "You figured out what we were up against and the way you stayed behind to protect them. And me."

"Anybody would've done it," he dismissed.

I shook my head. "No, they wouldn't."

"Look, you did it for a long time," he said warmly. "I'm just trying to return the favor."

"I guess sometimes it's hard accepting that you're not the same little kid," I muttered, fidgeting with my jacket's sleeve. "You can take care of yourself, you don't need me anymore."

"That's not true," Sam argued without a second thought, looking over at me as he stopped at a light, the tint of red filling the car. "I mean, yeah, I can take care of myself. But I'll always need you."

"Really?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said, giving me a small smile. In the dim light of the Impala, he looked strikingly similar to the boy I met ten years ago. One that was full of hope and kindness. "And look, if you need to talk about whatever it is going on… I'm here. I, uh– I know a thing or two about nightmares," Sam admitted, that somber look bouncing back into his eyes. He seemed relieved when the light changed, and he could pull his gaze away from mine.

"Thanks, Sam," I told him sincerely. He changed, yes. But perhaps not so much—not yet. And maybe, just maybe, we could achieve what was needed before he reached the point of no return. I'd thrown myself into it wholeheartedly all those years ago for people I didn't even know—people I had no clue would become the most important in my life. I had no idea what I'd do, but I'll be damned if I let this consume Sam and eradicate that part of him—no matter how small of it left—that held out hope.


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