Straight Shooter
According to Toby, his break was much needed and enjoyed. Faith, however, had been eager to get back on the road following the case with Jo and the Winchesters. Reluctantly, Toby gave up another day of rest in favour of travelling out west for what seemed like a simple salt-and-burn but turned into a week-long job involving three deaths, two missing girls, and a crypt full of bones going up in flames.
From there they went north, where up near the border there were some cattle mutilations that ended up being pagan rituals performed by the townsfolk. That was a tricky one, but within a week, that was solved, too.
Then they made their way slowly back down to North Dakota and Bobby's place, where they hung out for a few days and trained, before catching wind of another case over in Pittsburgh, then another in Trinidad, then another and another and another. Over time, Faith discovered that when you were looking for it, you'd find the supernatural under every stone you overturned. There was always a new case, some new job to work.
And she loved it. Maybe it was still just all shiny and new, but the possibilities genuinely excited her. The thought that there was so much work to get done – so much good to do; so many people to save – it fuelled her like a fire, the need to fight and to learn and to win. She was an addict, chasing the sort of high that came only with the fight.
September faded into October, and by the end of the month, Faith and Toby circled back to Bobby's place for Halloween.
"We're taking the night off," said Toby as they pulled into Bobby's front yard. "It's always a good idea to celebrate holidays. They help keep us sane."
"I dunno how I feel about celebrating a holiday that glorifies the sort of evil we spend all our time putting down," she replied even as she shouldered her duffel and made her way up Bobby's font porch, Toby close behind.
"Don't get caught up in semantics," he chided her. She pulled out the key Bobby had given her last time they'd stopped by.
"All your crap's here," he'd said gruffly as he'd handed her the little silver key on a keychain with a cartoon ghost hanging from its ring. "If you need to stop by while I'm not around, I'd rather you not go breaking any locks to get in."
She unlocked the front door, then called out, "Bobby?!" as she and Toby walked inside.
There was no answer but considering the absence of Bobby's truck in its usual spot, it wasn't entirely unexpected. He was either out on an errand or off on a hunt – either way, the two of them made themselves at home as they'd become so accustomed to doing. Faith kicked off her shoes by the door and went to take a shower while Toby wandered into the kitchen to brew some of his favourite fancy tea.
Bobby arrived back home an hour later – he'd been grocery shopping, rather than hunting – arms laden with enough candy to make a dentist shit themselves.
"You wouldn't believe the amount of kids who stop by every Halloween, considering how out of the way this place is," he said gruffly. "It's never a peaceful night."
The words and his demeanour were cranky, but he was putting great care into sorting out the different kinds of candy he'd bought into bowls, separating the ones with nuts from the ones without, just in case anyone had allergies.
As the sun set, Toby appeared, dressed in doctor's scrubs, hands and forearms covered in sticky fake blood. Faith took one look at him and burst out laughing.
"Your costume's on your bed," was his only reply.
She swiftly stopped laughing. "Toby, I wouldn't dress up even if you paid me."
"Don't be such a killjoy," he sniped back. "Do it for the children."
"You're ridiculous."
"Go."
Sulking, Faith stomped up the stairs and scowled to herself when she saw the Elmo onesie Toby had laid on her bed. It was cheap, as far as Halloween costumes went, but she didn't really want to be a killjoy, and besides – it was for the children.
Toby smirked to himself when she appeared, wearing the ridiculous onesie and a scowl.
"How old are you two again?" asked Bobby from where he was sat at his desk, sipping a glass of whiskey.
"We hit old and circled back around to youthful," said Toby without looking up from the TV, which was playing an old Gilligan's Island rerun. "Where's your costume, old man?"
Without batting an eye, Bobby reached for the ostentatious cowboy hat sitting on his desk, plopping it on over his thinning grey hair and tossing Toby a narrow-eyed stare.
Bobby was right – the children came in droves. Faith got the feeling that the house was something of a hotspot for the kids this time of year – because for as grumpy and sour as Bobby could be, he lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of all the kids dressed up in their cute, ridiculous costumes, and when he handed out candy, it was full-size chocolate bars and packets of the expensive brand of gummy bears.
Halloween ended up being a peaceful night, and despite her reluctance to wear the Elmo onesie, it actually ended up being pretty damn comfortable. Once the kids stopped coming, Toby put an old classic horror movie on the TV for them to watch while they ate what little candy remained and drank whiskey straight from the bottle.
"Honestly," Bobby muttered as he headed for bed, Faith and Toby arguing over who got to hold the remote. "Children."
The next day dawned, and with it came a whiff of a new case.
"Some missing hikers up in northern Oregon," Bobby explained at breakfast, slapping the day's newspaper down in front of Toby, who looked up from his eggs with a scowl.
"Who goes hiking in Oregon in November?"
"Idjits, that's who," said Bobby dryly. "And now you are, too."
Toby made a face, but Faith interjected before he could say whatever scathing remark she was sure sat waiting ready on his tongue. "What makes you so sure it's a job?" she asked, swiping the newspaper and flattening it out in front of her. The article was dated yesterday.
"These ain't the first hikers to disappear from the trail," said Bobby. "Now, the area's well known for tales of Wendigos. Just local folklore, but it's still where I'd be putting my money."
Toby was already shaking his head. "It's November," he pointed out. "Wendigos are hibernators. They'll be locked down for the winter by now."
"Not necessarily," Bobby argued. "When I first started huntin', I was on a job a few miles east of Seattle – Wendigo had taken four people over the course of several days, and we just barely found the fifth and sixth ones alive in its den. That was in the middle of December."
Toby leaned back in his chair, staring at Bobby contemplatively. Glad he wasn't arguing anymore, Bobby pressed on.
"Now, my old partner and I – we figured they don't go into hibernation until they've got enough meat to last 'em through. Only two hikers have gone missing so far. It'll be looking for more before it goes under. I'd say you've got just enough time to get there and light the sucker up before it goes under for the rest of the winter; but you've gotta leave ASAP."
Faith took a bite of her toast, running her eyes over the newspaper article before her. "And what makes you so sure it's a Wendigo?"
"Faith, you been at this as long as I have, you can tell a ghost from a ghoul without blinking."
Faith was suddenly curious – she'd never really seen him in action before. She'd learned plenty from him over these last few months, but most of it had been book-smarts; facts about lore and mythology, all the ways to kill a thing but never how to physically put it into practice. Toby had been the one to show her how to fight, how to use fists and weapons to keep herself alive. The need to see Bobby in the field was suddenly itching.
Faith looked over at Toby, who was sipping calmly at his morning cup of tea. "Well, it's not like we've got anything else going on," he shrugged. "This case is as good as any."
She agreed, looking back at Bobby. "We'll be off within the hour."
And they were. By the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky, Faith and Toby were nearly halfway across the state; then by the time the sun was setting behind the mountains, they were well across the border into Wyoming, and making their way up north-east into Montana.
By the end of the next day, they were in Oregon. It was damp and cold, and the absolute last thing Faith felt like doing was wading through the muddy forest in search of a cannibalistic monster.
But that was the job – the one she'd volunteered for as if there was more on offer than pain and the slight warmth that came from the knowledge you were doing the 'right thing'. She and Toby stopped in at a sporting goods store on the way towards the hiking trail where the college students had gone missing, grabbing galoshes and thick, waterproof parkas to wear over their normal clothes.
It was early the next morning – the sun not quite risen over the trees – when they waded their way into that creepy, dark forest, both armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. As they walked deeper into the trees, they whispered between themselves, guns loaded with silver bullets.
"I'm still not convinced it's a Wendigo we're after," Toby said, wiping the rainwater from his face. The sky had given way to rain before they'd even woken up that morning, and now they were stuck traipsing through the forest, knee-deep in mud, while their hair and faces got soaked.
"Well, you haven't exactly brought any other suggestions to the table," she replied. "And considering we came out here armed mostly with silver, I sincerely hope you're wrong."
"Casey!" Toby shouted into the forest. "Rob!"
Those were the missing hikers – Casey Lim and Robert Taylor. Casey was a world-class archer, and according to her friends, was out in the wilderness with her trainer, Rob, to get practise out in the elements. Apparently, nothing less was acceptable for someone rumoured to be up for the next Olympics.
"Casey? Rob? Can you hear us?!" Faith shouted into the void. There was no reply. She wasn't entirely sure why they bothered – search parties had come out to do the exact same thing, and they'd found nothing. Although, it had to be said, Faith didn't imagine they'd tried very hard. The chances of Casey and Rob still being alive were slim. If the Wendigo hadn't finished them off, then the below-freezing temperatures certainly would.
Toby cursed when his foot sank a little too deep in the mud and icy water flooded his boot. "Get the maps out again," he barked. Faith wisely did as she was told.
"We're here," she said, jabbing her finger at the spot on the map a little south of the nearby dam. Several points on the map were circled in red pen – helpful information from a local ranger about all the known bear dens in the area. He'd been confused as to why they'd need to know such a fact, but all they needed was to flash their fake badges and they were on their way. "The closest den is still an hour away on foot – longer, I guess, if this rain doesn't let up."
Toby gave a great sigh, wiping more rain from his eyes and reaching into his pack for a bottle of water, tossing back a swig like it was hard liquor. He passed the canteen to Faith, who took it with a nod and sipped. There was mud dripping into her boots and her hair was stuck to her face and neck. The middle of the forest was the last place she wanted to be, but it was the place she needed to be, and that was really all that mattered, these days.
"Come on," she said, passing him back the canteen and folding the map into a small square that would fit inside the pocket of her jacket, pressed against her chest to keep it dry.
They continued on, both with a shotgun threaded over one shoulder. Faith's hand never strayed far from the trigger, waterlogged eyes peering into the hazy distance, ears pricked for any noise that didn't belong.
But all of it was useless – the wind shrieked its way through the trees and the falling rain was a dull roar in their ears. The downpour made it virtually impossible to see more than a few feet in front of their faces, and the squelching mud made quick work of any tracks, leaving them nothing to go on but a vague hunch and the damp maps from the ranger's cabin.
It took them nearly two hours to reach the caves built into the side of a neighbouring mountain when it should have taken only one. The elements were particularly unforgiving, as though the world itself didn't want them to find Casey and Rob. But Faith refused to give up, and though it was unspoken, she knew Toby felt the same.
The search party hadn't come this far out – either because of the terrible weather or just the threat of crossing any hungry, grumpy bears – but the problem went far beyond that. The caves were extensive. It wasn't just a simple hollow in the mountainside, but rather a network of intricate holes and crevices, an anthill of dangerous possibility that made Faith's stomach dip.
They were better equipped to handle this than anyone else, but they were still gambling their lives out here, putting themselves on the line in the small hope that they would just be able to find – let alone save – Casey and Rob.
Taking her hand, skin wet and cold from the sleeting rain, Toby guided her under the shelter of the closest cave entrance. The icy shock of the pelting rain disappeared, but there wasn't any time to savour it. Faith had her rifle up in an instant, water still dripping from the barrel as she aimed it into the shadows. Toby did the same on her left.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent her across the other end of the somewhat spacious cave. Faith waded her way through the ankle-deep water at the mouth of the cave, finger hovering over her trigger, silver bullets ready to go.
It took only a minute to determine the cave was empty. Once they were certain there was nothing hungry waiting in the shadows, Faith dropped her rifle back onto her shoulder and began to wring out her soaked hair. Across from her, Toby was fiddling with his boots, pulling them off one by one and dumping what was inside back into the veritable sea surrounding them.
Faith could still feel herself shaking. She'd have thought she'd be warmer in the cave, out of the unforgiving elements, but instead the chill from outside seemed to have leached all the warmth from the stone, leaving the air inside nearly unbearably cold – not the mention the icy water at her feet. Faith didn't think she'd ever been so cold in all her life.
"If we don't find them soon, we'll have to take a break and find somewhere to light a fire," Faith warned Toby. He shot her an unamused look, but she wasn't kidding. "Toby, I'm literally going to lose my toes to exposure."
He wavered, looking up from where he was attempting to rub some warmth back into his frozen legs. "It is rather chilly."
"Rather chilly?" she echoed dubiously. "Jesus Christ, Toby. I'm freezing my tits off, here."
"Poetic as ever, Faith."
She ignored him and focused her energy on trying keep her thoughts off the mind-numbing cold in her bones. Toby pulled out his canteen again, passing it to her sternly. The water in the canteen was as cold as the water up to her calves. A shiver rattled through her skeleton as she felt it sink down into her stomach.
"Come on," said Toby, stuffing the canteen away again and gripping his rifle with both hands. "We need to keep searching."
The caves seemed to go on forever, like the hive of a great plague of insects. They navigated the labyrinthine caves with caution, each with a torch in one hand and a gun in the other. Even if they'd wanted to talk, that weren't able to, for rather than muffle the sound of the rain the caves seemed to amplify it until it buzzed and roared. She thought she'd still be hearing it for days after this hunt was done with.
Instead, they communicated with the basic sign language Toby insisted she learn when they decided to start hunting together. She'd complained at the time, but now had to admit she was glad he'd insisted.
Long minutes passed them by – five, then ten, then fifteen… Faith glanced down at her watch, its face glowing in the dark. Twenty minutes and still nothing. Toby was shining his light at the ground, searching for tracks of some kind to lead them in the right direction. While his attention was diverted, Faith stood at his back, gun aimed into the shadows, ready to put down anything that moved. She was beginning to lose hope that they'd find Casey and Rob at all – or at least before they froze to death themselves. But then something changed.
She was peering into the dark, where one cave bled into the next, when the hair on her arms stood on end and the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly. The feeling in her gut – terrible though it may have been – wasn't unfamiliar. She was actually getting more used to it with every hunt they did.
"Toby," she barely whispered his name, so it was miracle he even heard her over the dull roar of the storm. He looked up from the dirt, finding her stood rigid before him, eyes locked on something that wasn't there.
"What?" he whispered back, alert as he scanned the shadows for danger.
Stomach hollow as a log, Faith spun in a slow circle, finger tightening on the trigger ever so slightly. "Something's watching us," she told him, moments before two glowing eyes appeared out of the dark, luminous and haunting, like full moons on a cloudless night. "There!" she screamed at the same moment she fired her gun at the eyes.
A groan of animalistic pain filled the cave, followed very closely by the metallic reek of hot, freshly spilled blood and a furious roar which rang with warning. There came thunderous thuds against the ground, heavy enough to make the earth beneath their feet quake.
In something of a stupor, Faith lifted her torch just enough to illuminate the great, ugly beast charging towards them.
It was humanoid in shape, but hideously overgrown, like its species had a stage after adulthood that it grew to. Its skin was waxy and thin, its hands too-big with a claws at the end of each finger that dripped with blackened blood. Its ears were doglike, pointed and pricked, and its face was folded in on itself. It stank like nothing else. Faith felt a wave of bile creep up her oesophagus.
"Run!" shouted Toby.
Faith didn't need telling twice. Turning so quickly she skidded in the loose dirt at her feet, Faith bolted for the closest gap in the rock, sprinting into the looming darkness in the distant hope it might save her.
Toby fired off six rounds at the approaching beast – to no avail – then Faith heard his hurried footfalls behind her.
She'd faced plenty of things in the past – demons and witches and spirits – but nothing had ever seemed quite so tangibly scary as the wendigo that chased them through the network of caves. She was uncomfortably aware that there was now nothing between them and death except their own weapons, skills and wits.
Faith was taking random turns, knowing it would probably only serve to wedge her deeper within the mountain, but uncaring so long as it bought her time to stay alive. Every now and then, the bang of Toby's gun thundered through the air, followed closely by the wendigo's furious roars.
She knew they couldn't keep running forever, and just when she was about to turn and take a final stand, Faith tripped over something in the dark. Somebody screamed as she fell to the ground. Whatever she'd hit was cold and fleshy, and she scrambled backwards while at the same time swinging the light of the torch around until she found the source.
Casey Lim was curled up in a ball, her lips blue and her entire body trembling something fierce. Faith heard gunshots around the corner, followed by Toby's voice cussing up a storm and the wendigo snarling hungrily in response.
"Casey," Faith cried, scrambling back towards the girl. It would have been easy to assume she was dead – she looked like little more than a corpse, laid curled and frozen in the dirt – but she saw the way Casey's eyes followed her as she moved and knew she wasn't gone yet.
Faith crawled towards Casey, doing her best to ignore the brutal sounds of Toby fighting for his life against the wendigo and not think about her own gut-wrenching panic. Instead, she placed her hands on Casey's ice-cold cheeks and turned her head upwards, forcing Casey's listless eyes to meet hers.
"Casey, my name's Faith. We're here to help you," she told the girl, who was so cold at this point that she wasn't even shaking. "Where's Rob?"
Casey's eyes slammed shut and she let out a sad little sob. Knowing she wouldn't get an answer out of her – not in this state – Faith shone the light of her torch into the darkness until, finally, it fell over a body slumped, half-eaten, in the far corner. Rob was little more than a lump of bloody flesh, most of his neck torn out. Faith didn't need to get any closer to know he was already long since dead.
"Okay, Casey, listen to me," Faith said, doing her best to pull the poor girl from her despair. "Casey, I'm going to get you out of here in one piece, I promise. But you need to stand up for me."
Faith began to forcefully pull her to her feet, but Casey cried out in sharp pain and Faith abruptly let her go. Looking closer, she saw Casey was clutching her right arm close against to her body, and looking closer still, that a piece of jagged bone protruded from the skin at her elbow.
Faith cursed just as the wendigo gave a great, haunting howl that seemed to fade away the longer it went on – as if the creature was fleeing, fast.
Toby appeared not a moment later, blood gushing from a split in his head and a gash in his shoulder, which he was holding at an awkward angle. "Where is it?!" Faith called as he limped towards them.
"I think I scared it off, but it'll be back," he panted, collapsing to his knees at their side. "Can she be moved?"
"I don't think so," said Faith quietly. On the plus side, the adrenaline kept her teeth from chattering. "Her arm's in shards, and who knows what else. We need to use the satellite phone and get the rangers up here."
Toby was shaking his head before she was even finished. "The storm's still too bad, they won't be able to get here at all, let alone in time to help. And besides, we spoke about this – we can't let them see the wendigo."
"But they'll bring backup-"
"We do this ourselves, Faith," said Toby sternly, meeting her eyes in the dim light given by their flashlights. "That's the job."
She wanted to argue, but he had a good point. Hunters existed so that the rest of the planet got to stay in blissful ignorance. If they called in the rangers for backup, people might talk – or worse, they'd get photos of the thing and it would become the next Bigfoot, which would lead only to more deaths as stupid believers came up here hiking, looking for proof of their own.
No; Toby was right. They had to do this on their own.
A brisk search of the cave turned up a few old, wooden crates that Faith made quick work of, breaking them into shards and using the lighter in her pocket to start a fire. It might attract the wendigo back faster, but at this point if they didn't get some warmth back into Casey, then it would have all been for nothing, anyway.
Setting Casey close as she dared to the fire, Faith dug out her canteen, forcing the young archer to take small sips. She found some Tylenol in the bottom of her pack and made Casey swallow them, too. It wasn't the morphine she desperately needed, but it was better than nothing.
Toby didn't rest, even though he probably should have tried. Instead, he paced a slow, limping circle around their makeshift camp, staring into the shadows, gun at the ready.
Faith wasn't sure how long they were there, but the warmth of the fire was blissful, and she found herself slowly rocking a drowsy Casey back and forth, clutching her like she could hold all the broken pieces of the poor girl together.
Eventually, the pills, water and warmth helped clear some of the haze from Casey's vision, and she looked up at Faith with sweat coating her brow.
"Who…" she coughed hoarsely. "Who are you?"
Toby's relentless, uneven pacing wavered as he turned towards them. Then he started walking again, pausing at the mouth of the cave to listen for any approaching monsters. Faith knew it was up to her to be their voice for the day.
"My name's Faith, and that's my partner Toby," she told Casey quietly, still holding her tight, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "We heard you were missing and came out here to find you."
Casey took a moment to process that, licking her cracked lips before asking, in a small voice that made her seem so much younger than her eighteen years. "What is that thing?"
Faith considered telling her the truth, but sometimes that wasn't what people needed to hear. The truth wouldn't help her get through this in one piece; all it would do was make her afraid of the dark, of every single goddamn shadow she ever came across.
Faith knew what that was like.
"It's just an animal," she told Casey quietly.
But Casey shook her head. "I've never seen an animal like it."
Faith hesitated, but Toby was no help. "We think it's something mutated," she said, and it wasn't a complete lie. "Over time, we think it's just a normal creature that's become something…terrible."
"It killed Rob," said Casey with a sniffle.
Faith's heart twisted in her chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "And now we're going to kill it."
A long minute of uneasy quiet passed, then Casey asked, voice wrenched with agony, "Can't we just go now? Make a run for the town?"
Faith met Toby's eyes across the fire-lit cave, both of them grim. He nodded once down at Casey, and she understood what he meant – this was just one facet of her training. Dealing with the victims of the monsters was just as much a part of the job as dealing with the monsters themselves.
"It's the storm of the century out there," Faith told Casey softly, apologetically. "We wouldn't get far – especially not with your arm."
Casey flinched at the reminder, and her eyes darted to her compound bow, forgotten and having already gathered some dust over the few days she'd been in the caves, illuminated by the light of the fire. Faith knew she must be thinking about whether she'd ever use it again. She squeezed the girl, who shook her head to clear it.
"Didn't I hear you say you had a satellite phone?" she asked.
"It won't penetrate the cloud cover," Faith told her. "We're on our own until the storm abates."
Casey shuddered, pain and fear mixing together into something potent and awful. Faith held her tighter, knowing it likely wasn't as comforting as she meant for it to be. Faith was a stranger, after all.
"Don't worry, Casey," Faith said earnestly. "We're going to keep you safe. You're going to walk out of here. I promise."
Casey didn't respond, but Faith hadn't really expected her to. After a while, she seemed to drift, losing her hold on consciousness, which was probably for the best. Oblivion would be a lot more comfortable than whatever was still coming.
It took an hour, and slowly the deafening roar of the rain outside began to fade. The terrain would still be tricky with Toby limping and Casey with a broken arm, but at least they wouldn't freeze as the day turned to night and the Oregon frost began to creep in. Faith opened her mouth to say as much to Toby, but he held up a hand to silence her.
Faith went perfectly still, every atom of her on alert. The back of her neck began to prickle and once again the hair on her arms stood on end. Faith stopped breathing, keeping one arm wrapped around Casey while the other reached for the gun at her hip.
She'd just managed to get it free of its holster when the wendigo appeared in a flurry of too-long limbs and a mouth overcrowded by fangs. Acting instinctively, Faith threw herself over a barely-conscious Casey while Toby fired four rounds of silver bullets into the thing's torso. But they might as well have been pelting it with nerf darts for all the good it did. It kept on coming, horrifying mouth open in the most animalistic roar Faith had ever heard.
"Watch Casey!" Toby bellowed at Faith, sliding the already bloodied tomahawk free from the brace on his back, holding it out and bracing himself to run at the beast before them.
"Toby!" she shouted back at him, scrambling closer, but the fire they'd built was in the way, and besides, what could she do against such a beast? As Toby threw himself at the wendigo, it took an embarrassing amount of time for Faith to fight through her own panic and realise she was anything but defenceless.
Pulling the gun from her thigh holster, Faith tried to aim at the monster Toby was fighting – but they were far back in the shadows, and the risk of hitting Toby was too high.
"Dammit!" she cursed, flinching as the wendigo snarled. Toby let out a snarl of his own, though it was nowhere near as horrifying, and she heard the wendigo yelp as his tomahawk hit something vital.
Faith scrambled backwards for Casey, who was too far gone to so much as tremble with fear. Her eyes were open though, staring at the horrible scene before her with a certain amount of removal while she struggled to get air into her bruised and slowly-thawing lungs.
"You're gonna be okay," Faith promised her once more, unprompted. Some part of her wondered if maybe Casey wasn't the one who really needed to hear it.
For a time, it seemed like Toby had the wendigo dealt with, but then across the length of the cave and even over the crackle-pop of the fire, Faith heard a wet crunching sound that was followed quickly by a sound that could have only been human agony.
"Toby!" she screamed into the darkness. They were too far away, the light of the fire too faint for her to see. "Toby!"
"Take Casey and run!" Toby screamed back at her.
It wasn't exactly a sound plan. Even if Faith could carry all hundred-and-seventy-something pounds of Casey out into the forest, there wasn't a chance in hell of them being fast enough to outrun the wendigo.
Faith had to act – they couldn't die here, in this cave, where nobody would ever find them (at least not before the wild animals did). But she couldn't use the gun – the bullets were too great of a risk, and from what she'd seen, Toby's bullets had barely given the thing a tummy-ache.
Scrambling for something – anything at all – Faith's eyes fell on the quiver and bow set in the dirt before her, abandoned and now unable to be used by Casey and her shattered arm.
Use the bow, some strange voice whispered in her head, so distinct she knew it wasn't her own. It was something entirely other, removed from herself. But was it wrong?
It was a ridiculous idea – Faith had never used a compound bow in her life. Sure, she was a more than decent shot with a gun, and she knew how to throw a knife well enough, but could she honestly pick up a weapon she'd never even seen in person and use it to save them all?
Use the bow, that impossible voice whispered again. Pick it up; you'll know what to do.
And maybe because it was so cold, or maybe because she was so desperate, or maybe it was just because she was a giant idjit and had nothing better up her sleeve, but Faith grabbed the bow. It felt strangely familiar in her hand, but she didn't stop to think about that as she yanked one of the arrows out of the pretty leather quiver.
She acted entirely on an instinct she didn't understand as she grabbed the hem of her undershirt and ripped. A long line of fabric tore free, and Faith didn't hesitate to wrap it tightly around the tip of the arrow. Towards the mouth of the cave came an utterly human cry of pain, and Faith's heart threatened to give out at the sound of her friend – her best friend – in agony.
"Hold on!" she screamed, her voice breaking over the words.
Faith nocked the arrow, knelt down at the fire and held the fabric-wrapped tip of the arrow in the flames. It caught in moments, and then she was shooting to her feet with an energy that almost didn't feel like her own.
All she could hear was her own pulse in her ears, and Toby's wrenching cries of pain, but she fought past that to scream, "TOBY, TO ME!"
It said a lot about how far they'd come that Toby knew in an instant what she meant. A beat, then the wendigo's angry roar, and Toby was stumbling into the ring of light made by their fire, blood pouring from his head, cradling his broken wrist to his chest. He was sprinting, fast as he could, towards her. And just like she'd somehow known it would be, the wendigo wasn't far behind.
It was so ugly in the firelight, and the shadows it cast seemed to have life in themselves, writhing and twisting and slithering like they wanted to break free of their master and devour everything good in the world.
Faith didn't wait to see if they would succeed. Acting still on impossible, senseless instinct, she drew back her arm, the arrow drawn and aimed. Almost mechanical, she released a heavy breath in the same moment as she loosed the arrow.
Time didn't slow at all, but rather she blinked, and the flaming arrow went from nocked in the bow to inside the chest of the ravenous wendigo. The monster jerked backwards at the impact and opened its mouth to snarl in fury, but the fire had already caught. It spread faster than Faith would have thought possible, and in moments the unspeakable creature was burning alive.
The sounds it made as it died were unbearable, but she forced herself to listen, to watch. She felt almost a sick sort of pity for the thing as it collapsed to the dirt – a hunk of searing, cooking flesh – and writhed in agony. The rank smell of its burning skin made her want to hurl, but she swallowed it back and turned to the others.
Toby was collapsed against the wall of the cave, panting for breath while Casey seemed to have given up staying conscious and had drifted into deep exhaustion. Faith hurried towards her, collapsing at her side to check her pulse. Once she was satisfied that Casey wasn't dead, Faith turned to Toby, finding him cradling his wrist gingerly against his chest.
"Bloody hell, Faith," he panted, bloodied and dirty and exhausted, "I didn't know you could use a compound bow."
Realising rather suddenly that she was still holding the bow in one hand with a death-grip, her fingers white and numb, Faith released her hand. The bow fell to the ground with a clatter that went unheard over the wendigo's dying howls.
She swallowed; her mouth dry. "I can't."
Toby's face scrunched in confusion, but rather than ask questions, he nodded to his pack. "Think we can get a signal through the clouds?" he panted through his pain. The dull roar of the storm was gone, and Faith had to hope the worst was over.
"I'll go to the mouth of the cave and try," she offered numbly.
The signal got through – barely – but the rescue wouldn't come until after the storm had fully passed. Faith spun a quick story about fighting a bear (considering the convenient bear carcass in the far corner of the cave, it seemed the easiest story to back up) and her companion getting torn up, then agreed to wait in the relative safety of the cave until the rain lifted enough for a helicopter to get through.
With that done, she returned to the others. Toby made her check on Casey first, wrapping her in even more layers and assessing her breathing and circulation before he finally allowed her to tend to his wounds.
"You're an idjit," she informed him crossly, distractedly using some of the wood not on fire to fashion a splint for his wrist. "Taking on a wendigo by yourself…telling me to run…British fuckin' moron…" she muttered, talking more to herself than to him, at that point. Anything to distract herself from the terrible present.
"Faith, can you do me a favour?" Toby asked tiredly. She looked up from her task with a glower. "Save the scolding for after we're out of this bloody cave?"
As difficult as that seemed, she agreed. But a scolding would certainly come, and they both knew it.
Five hours later found them all safe, warm and dry, but Faith was still fucking furious. However, she reined in her anger, resolving to let it loose on Toby once she was certain he was going to be allowed to keep his mangled hand.
The doctors informed her that Casey was going to live, and Faith just about melted into a puddle of relief. She met up with Toby, who had just gotten back from his own x-ray, to give him the good news. If he weren't in so much pain, he might have smiled.
She pretended to be his sister to stay in the room with him while a young nurse put his broken wrist in a cast.
"You two are the heroes who saved that young girl, aren't you?" asked the nurse, a woman who looked barely old enough to be out of high school, let alone college.
"Just a happy coincidence that we found her in time," said Toby with an impatient flap of his good wrist.
"I heard her parents are going to give you a reward."
Faith recoiled at the thought, exchanging a horrified glance with Toby, and she imagined in that moment they were both plotting the quickest route out of the hospital. "Oh, uh, that's very kind, but we really don't need anything," Faith said quickly. "Right place, right time. We're just glad she's okay."
"Well, the local news station will want a few words," the nurse continued brightly, oblivious to their discomfort. "This is the most exciting thing to happen in La Grande since Eloise Mason got her fingertip bitten off by a chipmunk."
Thankfully, Faith was spared from further babbling by the shrill ring of her cell phone.
The nurse cut her a stern frown. "You can't use that in here."
"I'd better go outside then," Faith replied sweetly. Toby glared at her for abandoning him, but she just wriggled her fingers in farewell and left the medical clinic, stepping out into the icy November air. The storm was over, but everything was left damp and slick with ice. "Hello?"
A moment's pause, then, "Faith?"
It was a familiar, husky voice. One she hadn't heard in over two months.
Faith still spoke to Sam semi-regularly; they'd text or call one another in between hunts – and what had once been general acquaintanceship had turned into something resembling real friendship. Sam would rant about how annoying Dean could be, and Faith would reply with irritating anecdotes about Toby, or they could talk about the cases they were working and the things they'd seen. Through it all, Faith hadn't spoken to Dean once. She had a feeling Sam usually waited until Dean was out of the room – probably off getting food – to actually chance calling her.
For some reason, Faith seemed to grind Dean's gears, and for all he'd done for her, it really wasn't too much to ask for her to give him some space. Besides, he certainly knew how to get under her skin, in return. They weren't healthy for one another – not as they were now.
But now Dean was calling her out of nowhere, a serious note to his voice, and Faith felt her pulse thrum, quickening with something not unlike panic.
"Faith?" Dean asked again, his voice as husky as ever.
"Dean," she said, her own voice laughably shrill in comparison. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Is Sam-?"
"We're fine," said Dean, only to pause as though reconsidering. "Well, sort of; we're alive, but no, we're really not fine…" his deep voice trailed off into nothing, and though Faith waited for him to make sense, he never did.
"Are you drunk right now?" she demanded, the only reason she could think he'd actually call her, though she wasn't actually serious.
But to her surprise, Dean laughed. "Yeah, I'm a little drunk."
She arched a brow he couldn't see. "Just a little?"
"Just a little," he promised, chuckling again. "What's going on with you? Where are you?"
This whole conversation was about the weirdest thing to happen to her all month – and that was saying something, considering her day job. But if Dean wanted to play at small talk, she'd play along. "We're in Oregon, just got finished up with a wendigo hunt."
A beat. "No kidding!"
"No?"
"Where in Oregon?"
"Up near the border, little place called La Grande."
"No shit," Dean snorted down the line. "Sammy and I are just a little ways out of Portland."
"Yeah? What's the job?"
"It's…hard to explain," he admitted. "And to be honest, I don't really wanna try."
It was fifty shades of confusing, but Faith didn't feel like drunk-and-on-the-phone was the best state to be pushing him into talking about something he didn't want to. "Well, did you both get through it in one piece?" she asked instead.
Dean scoffed, the sound edged with drunken bitterness. "Barely," he said, something else she wanted to push on, but felt like it would be better if she didn't. Dean wasn't easy for her to talk to even when he was sober.
"Toby broke his wrist," she blurted, for lack of anything better to say.
"Damn," said Dean. "Wendigos are hard suckers to kill."
His tone made her hackles rise, as he usually did. "Well, I took it down easy enough."
"You?" he asked. A beat. "Really?"
"You could sound less surprised."
Dean hesitated. "Y'know, everyone keeps saying you're a natural at this whole hunting thing. Maybe they have a point."
You don't know the half of it, she thought to herself, remembering that whisper in her head, telling her to pick up that bow, because some part of her – somehow – already knew how to use it. What kind of person could shoot a flaming arrow directly at their target their first ever time touching a bow? Especially at that distance? It wasn't just beginner's luck. This went way beyond that.
"I thought Sammy and I were gonna die today," said Dean, seeming to take her silence as invitation to speak. Faith blinked, rubbing her hand up and down the length of her arm in an attempt to keep warm. She'd had enough of the cold to last a lifetime.
"But you didn't," she said, because it was all there was to say.
"We didn't," he agreed, but didn't sound thrilled about it.
"And that's a bad thing?"
"No," he said quickly. "Of course not. I'm…man, I mean, we really dodged a bullet today. But the things we saw…it makes you wonder at all the stuff that's out there, you know? Like if what we fight barely even scratches the surface of all there is to know. And, I'll be honest, that scares the shit outta me."
Faith was quiet a moment, then asked, in a flat voice, "You're not high, too, are you?"
To her surprise – and relief – Dean laughed again. "No, not high," he said softly. "Just…tired."
A breeze blew through the medical centre's parking lot and Faith shivered where she stood, the bitter wind like needles against the warm skin of her face. "Well, if it's any consolation, we nearly died today too," she said in an effort to keep things light.
She didn't know how to be deep with Dean, or how to even be real. All she'd ever given him was white-hot temper, and all he'd ever given her was the same. Maybe they were too stubborn for their own good – or maybe just for each other's.
On the other end of the line, Dean let out a heavy breath. "It's not really a consolation, no."
She tapped her frigid feet against the icy concrete, unsure where they were meant to go from there. She decided to try being kind, because clearly Dean was having a rough time. The last thing he needed was her starting an argument just because it was all she knew how to do.
"Well, just so you know, I'm glad you're not dead," she told him, managing to say it in an offhand, disinterested way.
Dean paused. "Yeah, well, I'm glad you're not dead, either."
It felt like a strange sort of confession – like they'd admitted something to one another without using any of the actual words. She couldn't say for sure what it was they'd confessed, though – perhaps a mutual lack of glaring hatred?
She said nothing, and once again they were left directionless in their conversation. Faith tapped her finger against the plastic case of her phone, hoping a conversation topic might magically appear. But she never was very lucky.
"I'd better go," she finally said, eager to escape the awkwardness. "Toby's still pretty banged up, and I need to go sign a bunch of papers."
"Posing as his fiancée again?"
"Sister, actually."
"Huh, downgrade."
That made her smile. "You're an ass."
"Yeah, so you keep telling me," he said, a smile in his voice, too. She told herself her quickening pulse was from the newness of it all.
She decided to quit while they were ahead. "I'll talk to you later, Dean. Go celebrate being alive."
"Four makes a party," he said suddenly. "Why don't you and Tobias head over this way?"
The invitation was surprising, but she put it down to the alcohol in his system. "Like I said," she told him, "Toby's still a mess. I think I'm just gonna take him to the closest motel and let him sleep for a week."
"Aw, come on, you're missing out on one hell of a party."
It was strange – he almost sounded as if he wanted her company? What exactly had happened on this last hunt to make him act so…differently? She didn't like it in the same way nobody liked what they didn't understand.
"I'm sure I am," she said mildly. "But it's still a no. Listen, I've gotta get back. Tell Sam I say hi."
Then without waiting for a response, she ended the call, shoving her phone back into her pocket and staring out at the parking lot. The lights of the medical centre sparkled off the wet lot, and Faith knew they had to get out of there before their insurance was flagged and they attracted any unwanted attention from local law enforcement – or even worse, the press for their 'heroic deeds'.
She was quick to sign whatever the nurse put in front of her, all smiles and deep concern for her 'brother', before she told them they really had to get going. The doctors didn't want Toby to leave the hospital – given the head wound and all – but Faith claimed a family emergency that simply couldn't wait, grabbed what medication Toby needed, and then called a taxi to take them to the motel on the other side of the town – where their car waited.
By the time they were back in their own car, Toby was sound asleep in the passenger side and Faith was heading down the 84 on the way back to Bobby's – where Toby would have the time and space he needed to heal.
Faith turned on the radio and the cheap sci-fi audiobook that Toby had been listening to before this whole mess started began playing automatically. Faith looked over at her friend in the shadows of the night. His face was lit up in the glow of the streetlights they were passing under; he looked so peaceful in his sleep, so much younger than he actually was. Faith smiled to herself and kept on driving, taking Toby safely home.
Faith only stopped driving when they'd crossed state lines and it had become almost impossible to keep her eyes open. She booked them into a crappy motel that smelt of bleach and cigarettes, all but carrying a drowsy Toby into their room and setting him up in his bed. Then she took a shower before finally climbing into her own and succumbing to the nothingness.
When she woke up, it was to the sound of the front door creaking open. In an instant, her gun was in her hand, and she was upright, barrel aimed at whoever – or whatever – dared enter their room uninvited.
Toby blinked and held his one free hand up in surrender – the same one that was wrapped in a bright blue cast. "Just me," he said with a twitch of his lips. "Thought we could both do with some coffee."
Faith groaned and dropped her gun onto the mattress. "You should be resting, not making coffee runs."
He kicked the door shut with his foot and waved away her concern. "I feel fine, and I was hungry," he said, holding up the bag and tray of coffee in his other hand. "I got your favourite."
Now that she thought about it, the room did smell pleasantly of pastry. Her drowsiness all but gone, Faith reached eagerly for the bag; Toby rolled his eyes and handed it over. She rooted around inside the bag, pulling out her generously-sized bear claw with a grin.
She ate in bed while Toby sat at the small table supplied by the motel. They didn't talk as they ate their breakfast and inhaled their coffee. Faith was comfortable in the silence – it was different to the silence with Dean, which had felt packed with tension and meaning she couldn't understand. Instead, silence with Toby was easy. There was no tension, and certainly no expectations.
The silence couldn't last forever, though, and eventually Faith was the one to break it, when she noticed Toby glance into the light and wince.
"How do you feel?" she asked, pinning him with a stare that warned of violence if he lied.
"Fine. Tired. Sore. Tired."
"You said tired twice."
He sighed. "Yes, I did."
"Your head?" she pressed, setting down her now-empty cup of coffee and crossing the room. Before he could answer she forcefully took his head in her hands, tilting it towards her so she could get a good look at the neat stitches running along his hairline.
"It's fine, Faith," he assured her. "These pain meds are brilliant. Other than a general ache, I feel fine."
"Stop saying you're fine," she snapped. "You singlehandedly took on a wendigo. You're not fine."
"Well, you're the one who killed it, in the end," he snapped right back, staring up at her with hard eyes. "I just bought you time."
Faith didn't like the way he was looking at her, so she let go of his head and took several large steps away. She retreated to the kitchenette, where she poured herself a glass of tap water she didn't need.
"What happened?"
She stared down into her glass like it held all the answers. "You mean you don't remember?" she asked, half hoping it was true.
"No, I remember," he said. "Though I'll admit it's a little…fuzzy. I think – and, I mean, I could have made this all up in some sort of fever dream – but I think…you shot a flaming arrow at a wendigo?" he sounded just the right amount of incredulous, which was to say, very.
Faith grimaced. "Yeah, that about covers it."
Toby was silent from behind her, and she felt nervous not able to see his face, so she turned to lean back against the sink. Toby was frowning, but not angrily. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd been expecting anger as his first reaction.
"You said you've never used a bow before?" he pressed.
"Never," she said, because she didn't want to lie. Maybe if it were anyone else; but not now, not to Toby. "My beginner's luck is out of this world, ain't it?" she asked, fixing a playful look on her face and hoping Toby would leave it at that. Hoping – but knowing deep down that he wouldn't.
"Don't you find it strange?" he asked, a frown pulling at his brow.
"Hm?" she hummed, pretending to be distracted by a piece of lint on the front of her shirt.
He made a frustrated noise. "Faith," he began importantly, "you're the most natural hunter I've ever seen in my life."
"Aw," she sang, looking up with a glittering grin. "You say the sweetest things."
"Faith," he said again, so serious and sharp that it forced the smile from her lips. Faith met his stare and felt a wall erect itself behind her eyes.
She trusted Toby – she really did; she trusted him maybe more than anyone else in this strange, new life of hers – but this was a dangerous secret to be sitting on (even if she wasn't yet entirely certain what that secret actually was). She didn't know what any of it meant, and until she did, the idea of letting somebody else onto the fact that she had perfect archery aim or could snap a steel lock with her bare hands – she was reluctant, to say the least.
Toby rallied on, ignoring the sudden blankness on her face. "From the moment you first started doing this – hunting, I mean – you've taken to it like…like breathing."
"I've got mad skills, Toby, so what?" she asked combatively, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I don't care how much of a natural you are," he argued stubbornly. "You don't take down the guy twice your size within a few days of learning to fight; you don't hit the can the first time you shoot a gun; and you certainly don't kill the wendigo the first time you loose a flaming arrow."
Faith said nothing, her pulse erratic. She clenched her jaw tight and stared back at Toby, who met her eyes without flinching.
"Faith, there's something here – something we don't understand."
"So, what, Toby? You're saying something's wrong with me because I'm an excellent shot?" she demanded, knowing all the while that the only reason she was getting defensive was because, deep down, she was terrified. "How is this a bad thing?"
"I'm not sure it's bad," he insisted. "But it's strange. Can't you see there's something different about you?"
"Different how?" she snapped. "You think I'm hiding something from you?"
"Are you?"
He asked it point-blank, so sudden and plain that for a moment Faith struggled to respond. The memory of the steel lock she'd snapped like it were nothing more than a cheap piece of plastic flashed across her mind, but she pushed it away. What were the chances the two things were even related?
"I don't know why I'm such a good shot, Toby," she said, hoping he didn't notice the way she'd sidestepped his question. "But I don't think it's a bad thing. I mean, it's not something to worry ourselves sick over. How could it be?"
Toby didn't have a good answer, staring at her with hard eyes that made her heart hurt.
"I'm not lying to you about anything," she promised him, a last-ditch effort to remove the distrust from his eyes. "If I knew something, I'd tell you. But whatever this is – this strange, impossible skill – I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Why can't we just be glad I'm so good at this and move on with our lives?"
For a long moment he said nothing, still staring at her like she were a puzzle piece he didn't trust not to give him a paper cut. She stared back hopefully, begging him with her eyes to just let it go and stop looking at her with such heart-wrenching suspicion. Finally, perhaps because after all this time, he'd actually developed a fondness for her, he shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
"You're right," he said, but she found that hard to believe, considering she didn't even believe herself. "You're a good hunter. This world's lucky to have you."
Faith wasn't sure that was the end of it – it was far too easy – but Toby seemed sincere enough, and if she was truly honest with herself, she was just glad for the excuse to pretend something wasn't glaringly wrong with her.
"All right," she said bracingly. "Give me twenty minutes and we'll get back on the road. If we drive straight through, we should make it back to Bobby's by morning."
Toby nodded in agreement. "I'll drive."
"You kidding me? I saw you take those pain meds; I'm not letting you behind the wheel. I'll drive. You can be navigator."
He scowled but didn't argue, and as Faith sauntered into the bathroom for a shower, she tried to pretend everything really was fine – that nothing was wrong with her, and that the world made sense, and that she couldn't feel Toby's suspicious stare on the back of her head. Maybe if she pretended hard enough, it would eventually come true.
A/N: For those of you curious, in the timeline, Dean's phone call above takes place the night after the events of S02E09 – Croatoan.
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Next time: Sam goes missing, and Faith learns more about her past.