Dean turned right and made his way around the clearing in the opposite direction from Sam. There was no movement from the cabin, but he picked his way through the underbrush rather than be exposed. Twigs and leaves clung to his shirt as he moved and more than once he had to pick himself free rather than swat the damned greenery away like he wanted to. His half of the perimeter was shorter than Sam's, so he reached the decrepit school bus after only a few minutes.

The windows on derelict vehicle were mostly gone, and the door was just a dark opening. Again, there was no sign of Hector, but Dean was still uneasy. Gun raised, he stepped out into the open and quickly climbed into the bus. The inside of the vehicle was hollowed out and empty. Nothing but a few brackets suggested that there had once been seats. At one point, the walls and ceiling had been painted white, but the paint was almost invisible under the black marker that covered most of the surface.

Lowering his gun for now, Dean examined the cramped writing. It vividly reminded him of that bedroom in the bunker where Gabriel wrote his life story all over the walls. Except this was messier. At first, there was no rhyme or reason that he could see to the scribbles. They went in every direction, up the walls and onto the ceiling, breaking off and starting again at random intervals. He was able to make out disturbing words in both English and Spanish – 'death', 'spell', 'haunted', 'desire'. The handwriting was all the same, but from what he could read, it was as if two people were having a twisted conversation. Wishing Sam was here instead of on the other side of the cabin, Dean took out his phone and quickly took careful photos. These hieroglyphics might not matter once they found Hector, but since magic was involved, he didn't want to leave something dangerous lying around. Sam would know if they needed to take care of the writing.

After he'd documented the interior of the bus, Dean checked that the clearing was still empty and stepped out. Movement from behind the cabin caught his eye and he raised his gun. It was just Sam. With a quick gesture that he was going deeper into the woods, Sam melted into the trees. Dammit Sammy! Screw it, he was done skulking in the bushes. Sprinting across the open area, Dean found the trail that Sam had disappeared down. Before he could follow his brother, there was a sound from inside the cabin. Ducking down, he edged closer and scouted through the window. The old, wavy glass made it hard to see, but he could make out a young Hispanic man climbing out of a trap door in the floor. It had to be Hector.

Torn between following Sam and taking care of Hector, Dean vacillated for a minute. Sam was most likely safe if Hector was here, so he decided to keep an eye on their quarry. It was awkward trying to peer in the window without being seen. He kept having to pop up and down to sneak a peek. Dean watched as Hector pulled out a backpack and began loading it. After emptying the bookshelf, he went to the wall of whiteboards and began to wipe them clean. Looks like the kid was planning to leave. They couldn't afford to lose him, so Dean would have to confront him alone.

Waiting was irritating and Dean was itching to just kick his way inside and start shooting. The threat of magically turning into a sculpture kept him at bay. He figured he'd wait until Hector went out the front door, dash around the cabin and catch him by surprise. It was a solid plan that should have worked. Except that the next time he checked, the cabin was empty. Dean sprinted to the front of the building dropping any stealth. The clearing was empty. Even at a dead run, there was no way Hector could have made it across the clearing unseen. That left only one exit, the trap door.

Slamming his way into the building, Dean cursed the lack of cell phone service. He didn't like following Hector without letting Sam know. But his brother was smart, he'd just have to figure it out. Dropping to his knees, Dean searched for the trap door. If he didn't know it was there, the trap door would have been practically invisible. Finally, his fingers found a hole around a knot in the wood that acted like a handle. Yanking the door open, he pointed his weapon below. Based what he could see it was just a dark hole in the dirt, but if Hector could get through it, so could he.

"Why does it always have to be a friggin' hole?" he asked under his breath. Taking a few deep breaths to psych himself up, he dug a flashlight out of the weapons bag and poked his head down. He half expected Hector to be just beyond the lip of the pit ready to attack, but there was nothing but a dark tunnel. Lowering himself down, Dean left the door open above him for Sam to find and started crawling.

The tunnel was old, the smell of dirt was heavy around him as he shuffled along on his belly, shoving his duffle ahead of him with his flashlight between his teeth. Hector must be one skinny kid to have gotten through so quickly. Of course he'd used it frequently, Dean had to be more cautious. Luckily, after a few feet the tunnel grew taller, and he was able to shift to all fours. Rocks dug into his knees and although he didn't bump his head, he had to deal with roots that dragged through his hair like freakish fingers. His light illuminated the old, crumbling wood beams and interwoven tree roots that were the only thing stopping him from being buried alive. Dean repressed a shudder and forced himself to just keep moving forward.

xxxxxx

After signalling to Dean, Sam had hustled down the path as quickly as he could. If Hector was ahead of him, he wanted to catch up to the student. Based on the creepy flowers, Sam suspected that the young man had gotten in over his head, magically speaking. Not that it excused killing three people and hurting Dean, but Sam understood how easy it was to get hooked on the feeling of power.

He made good time down the path. The way had been well travelled and so the trail was relatively clear of the branches and shrubs that had plagued his route around the cabin clearing. Not sure what he would find at the end of the path, Sam held his gun at thigh level, senses on full alert as he jogged. Curving around a cluster of pine trees, the path abruptly came to a halt at a ravine. Down below, a deep blue stream meandered its path through the forest. A quick exploration and Sam saw a steep route down to the water, but nothing else unusual. Hector was nowhere in sight.

Feeling foolish, he turned around. Dean was going to be annoyed at having to wait while Sam went on his little wild-goose chase. And they were still no closer to finding Hector. He'd barely retraced his last few steps when heard a woman's voice.

"Help! Help!" There was panic and fear in the cry. The call came from his left, at a right angle to the path back to the cabin. Someone was in trouble! Instinctively Sam headed towards the woman, shoving through closely packed trees and vegetation. Struggling to make headway, Sam cursed his slow progress. The cries for help had become weaker and he pushed hard, the brush tearing holes in his light overshirt. Finally, he forced himself free of the dense woods.

In front of him was a woman dressed for hiking. She was tied to a tree with bulky loops of rope around her torso. He hurried over but then recoiled in shock. The mottled grey of the previous victims was steadily expanding across her face and bare arms. She was still screaming, although little more than air escaped her open mouth as her neck and face grew more and more stone-like. Shaking off his shock, Sam pulled his knife and began to cut the bindings. Her terrified eyes met his. Then as he watched, the grey crept across her sclera and iris, draining away life and leaving her entire face like carved granite. She was gone.

Sam wanted to punch something or scream in frustration but settled for dragging his fingers through his hair. He had no idea what to do next. Should he cut her free, go find Dean, search the woods for Hector? Any sympathy he'd had for the student scientist was gone. Magic might be addictive, but tying someone up and inflicting a torturous death like this on them? That was a choice. Fists clenched, he turned his back on the poor woman only to find a himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

"You shouldn't be here" Hector said. He was shaking and held the gun awkwardly, obviously not used to handling a weapon. Sam was angry but not stupid enough to lunge for the weapon. Hector had demonstrated that he had no qualms about killing. Instead, Sam slowly edged closer to the potential cover of a large pine. Maybe he could talk the young man into surrendering.

"Look, you don't need to do this." Sam held his arms out wide, palms up and attempted to look non-threatening. Hector shook his head, the gun shaking just as vigorously as he pointed it at Sam. The guy looked unhinged, scruffy and drawn as if he hadn't slept in days.

"You don't understand," he whined. "I need to do this. I have to do this!" Hector shouted the last. He kept jerking his head towards his right shoulder as if he was trying to shrug off some invisible yolk.

"Why?" Sam asked, hoping to get some insight that might calm him down.

"It's the only way," he moaned in a hoarse whisper. Starting to cry, he sniffed, wiping at his nose with his other hand.

"Just put the gun down, Hector. We can talk. Maybe I can help?" Sam tried to fake empathy, or at least pity for the young man. Anything to avoid getting shot.

"No. It's useless. I've ruined everything." He moaned, then shook his head again, turning half away and swinging the gun wildly. "But you're so close! You can't stop!" He shouted, spittle flying. His desperate ranting didn't seem to be directed at Sam. It was as if Hector was talking to someone only he could hear. Considering whether he could disarm the guy before he could pull the trigger, Sam took half a step closer.

Jerking the gun up, Hector seemed to gain lethal focus and Sam froze. "No! I'm not going to let you stop me!" he shouted. Sam dove for the safety of the big tree just as the gun fired, startling the birds in the treetops above.

xxxxxx

Dirty and aching, Dean crawled out of the tunnel into the sun. He was getting too old for this shit. The tunnel exit was hidden underneath a low scrub pine, and he had to protect his face as he wiggled his way out into the open. Brushing the worst of the crud out of his hair, he carefully looked around. Hearing voices, he darted for cover behind a flowering bush. Directly ahead, he saw a tree with thick rope wrapped around it. At the same time as he recognized Sam's voice. Had his brother gotten himself captured? Hector didn't seem to be someone who could get a jump on Sammy, but you never knew. Inching closer, he crept up behind the bound tree.

From this new perspective Dean finally laid eyes on Sammy. Hector had him at gunpoint a few feet in front of the roped tree meaning at least his brother wasn't tied up. Hector was raving like a madman and Sam was too busy tracking his erratic movements to notice Dean. A crazy person with a gun on his brother was one of Dean's least favourite things. Hector was a murderer, dabbling in the dark arts was the least of his crimes. Keeping low, Dean got into position. In a fair fight, he preferred to face down his enemy, but this wasn't a fair fight, and he was perfectly okay with shooting someone in the back if they threatened Sam.

"I'm not going to let you stop me!" Hector shouted, practically frothing at the mouth with insanity.

Dean couldn't say for sure who fired first, but three things happened simultaneously. He saw the muzzle flash from Hector's gun. Sam dropped. Dean fired and Hector bucked forward, blood spraying from his back.

"Sam!" Lurching out from behind his cover, Dean ran towards the huge pine, skidding to a stop as Sammy sat up, picking himself out of some scrubby vines.

"I'm okay." Sam said and Dean's heart stuttered back to life. Thank Jack.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked as he pulled Sam to his feet and helped brush away the twigs and dirt that clung to his brother. If he took a second to confirm that the kid was unhurt, sue him. A splintered bullet hole in the pine not far from where Sammy's chest had been, was proof that while Hector's shot had gone wide, it had still been a close call.

"I was too late." Sam gestured towards the tree where Dean had been hiding. Tied to the trunk with the rope was a pretty, young hiker. Like Emily and the Reverend Wilson, she now looked like she was made of stone. Regret dripped from Sam's voice and Dean squeezed his shoulder in silent solidarity. You couldn't save everyone, but it still sucked when innocent people died on your watch.

As Sammy finished dusting himself off, Dean went to check on Hector who was face down, bleeding into the forest floor. Careful to avoid getting blood on his hands, he rolled the dead man over. Dean didn't regret shooting him, but it was still a waste, the guy couldn't have been more than 25. At least Hector wouldn't be killing anyone else.

Looking around for any evidence to clean up, Dean saw Hector's backpack. Unzipping it revealed the notebooks from the cabin and a large creepy ass black book. Even closed, the book gave off some seriously bad vibes and Dean was careful not to touch it. The book was unmistakably powerful and dark. Sam appeared at his shoulder and Dean handed him the bag. His brother was the magic expert of their operation. With a grimace, Sam zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder where is bounced against his own backpack.

There was always more work to do, but for a moment, they stood together catching their breath. This case wasn't exactly a win considering the innocents who had died, but they were both alive and unhurt. That counted for a lot these days.

"What about Hector or the girl?" Sam asked.

"We'll call it in when we get back to cell service. Now is there a path or something?"

"Yeah, this way." Sam slung Hector's bag over his shoulder and gestured into the trees. "Hey, how did you even get here?"

"Creepy ass tunnel. Don't recommend it." Dean walked over to the tunnel opening and retrieved his duffle bag. Sam may have dodged a bullet, but he hadn't beat his knees to hell crawling through the dirt. Dean was looking forward to a hot shower and a couple of Advil. But they had work to do first.