All is Well
Chapter 3
Beta: Tidia
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Mackland slowly made his way down the stairs that led into the living room. He had every intention of escaping to the library to collect himself before entering the kitchen once more. Listening to the hunters discuss their plans to recover bodies was taking a toll. He never felt more the outsider than he did now. A soft voice and the smell of a familiar perfume stopped him.
“Mackland?”
The doctor turned, blinking to be sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. But Esme Madrigal remained, standing by the small couch in the parlor. His heart quickened.
“Esme?”
She tilted her head, frowning slightly. “Didn’t Sam tell you I was here?”
“No.” Mackland slowly crossed the space between them. “He had other things on his mind I’m afraid.”
“Of course.” Esme stepped closer. “I’m sure you all do.”
“What are you doing here?” Mackland hadn’t considered the fact that Joshua might call his mother or that she would make the trip to Kentucky.
“I wanted to make sure you were alright.” She rested her hand on his arm. “I know that was a foolish thought. Of course you’re not alright. How could you be.”
Mackland swallowed thickly. Esme was looking at him with such compassion. He’d seen that expression cast upon victims so many times. Having it directed at him was painfully humbling. “I’m not quite sure how I am.” Numbness had set in. Nothing seemed quite real. Although he knew it soon would.
“That’s understandable.” She took a seat on the sofa, gestured to two cups of tea steaming on the table. “I made you some tea.”
Mackland sank wearily to the couch, clasping his hands in front of him to make sure they didn’t shake. He fought to keep the tremble from his deep voice. “Tell me it has some of your inspired ingredients in it.”
“Are you asking me if I doctored your drink, Doctor?” Esme played along with the poor attempt at levity, lifted a brow before claiming her own cup of tea from the table.
“I wouldn’t object if you did.”
“Chamomile and calendula was all I could find in Jim’s spice rack. So it isn’t a witch’s brew; but it should have a calming effect.”
Mackland had only been half serious. The fact she had made an effort was touching-her wry humor endearing. He picked up the saucer. “At this point I don’t even believe anything in my medical bag would have much effect.” He tried to reciprocate with a smile, his face feeling as pliable as lead. “But thank you.”
“I’m so sorry, Mackland. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.”
Mackland took a drink of the tea, choosing not to look at her face, a pleasure he usually could not resist. “I hope you never have to experience it.”
There was a heavy silence before she spoke again. “Joshua explained about the hunt. Is there a chance that Harland and the others could have missed something?”
Mackland was surprised. Esme was logical and grounded, despite the air of mystery surrounding her. Their minds were wired similarly. She treated her crafting as he did his abilities, a tool. It was one of the things he enjoyed about their friendship. “Now you sound like Dean.”
“John’s oldest son?”
The doctor nodded. “He’s not taking this well.”
“You said he and Caleb were very close.”
Mackland took another gulp of the tea, hoping the hot liquid would dissolve the mass lodged in his throat. “Yes.”
“As a Guardian and Knight should be.”
Ames nodded. It was strange that those on the outskirts of The Brotherhood knew Jim’s plans, when those it effected most were kept in the dark. It was not spoken of by The Triad. “I suppose.”
“I remember my father and Julian were inseparable. Mother often joked that she married both the groom and the best man on the day of her wedding.” Esme sighed. “I’m not sure who was more devastated when Father died, Mother or Julian. He was never the same”
“Dean is holding out hope that Caleb is still out there.” Mackland ran a finger over his brow. “I can’t blame him for wanting to believe that but I don’t want to see him hurt further.” Mackland didn’t want to be hurt either.
“You better than most understand how cruel hope can be sometimes.”
“Unfortunately.” He took a deep breath, summoned the courage to meet her understanding gaze. “I’ve always found it so easy to discount until now. I’ve seen parents refuse to believe reports of their child’s death until they were holding the cold body themselves.” Mackland cleared his throat. “Even then, I’ve had some swear that it wasn’t too late for a miracle.”
“Miracles do happen.” Esme squeezed his arm. “Everyday.”
Mackland turned his body so he was facing her, their knees touching. “I want to believe my son is alive, Esme. I’ve never wanted anything more. I want it more than I wanted to walk and talk again after my accident. I would gladly give my life if I could just hear his voice or see him walk through that door. I brought him into this life…”
Esme’s eyes glistened with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mackland.”
He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t seem real. It's as if I am watching it take place from another plane. It seems to be happening to someone else All of this…” Mackland gestured around the room. He suddenly had a great understanding for how Caleb described his visions. How he was an unseen voyeur in a poor soul’s nightmare. “It seems as if it is some bizarre dream state.” He covered her hand with his, held onto her tightly. “I just want someone to wake me up.”
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Dean woke with a gasp to find Sam leaning over him. His brother’s hands were on his shoulders.
“You were dreaming,” Sam said softly. The teen sat down, keeping his fingers entwined in his brother’s shirt. “Are you okay?”
Scout leaped up on the bed. The dog whined, her tail thumping against the mattress. Dean rubbed his eyes. “Yeah.” He looked blearily around the room. Caleb’s room. Oppressive grief lighted on his chest once more finding perch like a cement raven. He might have been awake, but the nightmare was ongoing. “What time is it?”
“Early.” Sam removed his touch, motioned to the window where Dean could see it was still dark. “Dad and the others just left.”
“Damn.” Dean fought his way to his feet. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Hours had passed. “I wanted to go with them.”
“Dad would have said no. He wouldn’t let Ian go either.”
Dean met his brother’s unwanted empathetic gaze. “I’m not Ian.”
Sam blinked. “He lost a brother, too.”
Dean moved away from the teen and dog, needing to distance himself from what they were trying to offer. “Why are you awake?”
“I haven’t been asleep.” Sam held up a yellow legal notepad. “I’ve been doing research down in The Hunter’s Tomb.”
“Sam.” Dean ran a hand over his hair. “Let it go.”
“Did you know throughout the years Wendigos have been mistaken for werewolves?”
Dean might as well have been ordering the wall to stop holding up the house. Sam completely ignored his request. “Wendi…what?”
“A Wendigo.” Sam’s eyes momentarily lost their tired glaze. “It’s a creature of super strength, speed, and cunning. Legends say it starts out as human…and then morphs after it consumes human flesh. You find mention of them in a lot of Indian mythology, especially the Algonquin and Cree tribal lore.”
Dean held up his hand. “Sam, why are you giving me the history lesson? It’s five o’clock in the fucking morning.” And Caleb’s dead.
“Because Dean, I found them mentioned in several of the old hunters' journals. In Julian Smith’s and Maxim Madrigal’s journals-the former Triad. The Brotherhood has dealt with them before. I mean they‘re not usually this far east, but the Appalachian Mountains would be the perfect terrain for them, especially if one needed a fresh hunting ground to gather enough food to hibernate.”
“Hibernate?”
Sam nodded. “Julian’s journal told about how the Wendigo seek refuge for years at a time. But when they‘re awake, they‘re always hungry. It’s one of the curses of their condition.”
Dean’s muddied mind was finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “And you think that maybe Caleb and the others were hunting one of these Wendigo and just thought it was a werewolf?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I think.”
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean crossed to stand in front of his brother again. “That’s a long shot. This is Bobby and Caleb we’re talking about here. They would know the difference.”
“But they weren’t on the hunt from the beginning.” Sam stood. “I heard Dad and Bobby talking when they thought I’d gone to bed. Harland started the hunt. When the moon began to phase out, he and the others hadn’t turned up anything; Pastor Jim called in back-up. Bobby and Caleb had just finished up a hunt of their own. They wouldn’t have had a chance to research.”
“They were doing clean-up.” Dean ran a hand over his mouth. Jim obviously didn’t think Harland could handle the job. It was Sawyer’s ineptitude that dragged Caleb into this mess. “They went in with second-hand intel.”
“Something Dad tells us never to do.”
“Okay, so you think Caleb was taken out by this psychotic cannibal instead of a flea-infested wolfie?” Dean didn’t want to even think about what that meant for his friend. Was there such thing as a more preferable death? “How the hell is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Dean, Wendigo don’t kill their victims right away,” Sam explained patiently. “They store them so they can have a food source on hand. It likes to feed off of live prey.”
Dean frowned. “Are you sure?” He felt the lead weight momentarily lift,the fluttering of hope in its wake. “This isn’t one of your ‘educated’ guesses, is it?”
Sam shook his head. “Julian and Maxim found two living victims. Think about it, Dean. It would make sense that a lot of people have been disappearing from the woods-campers and hikers with no bodies to show for it. That’s not a typical werewolf pattern.”
“And these Wendigos are smart?” Dean took his brother's notes. He deciphered the scribbles, reminiscent of his father's writing. “They think like a human?”
“They’re almost perfect hunters. Not just instinctual like a werewolf,” Sam clarified. “I think it could be smart enough to plant a false trail, maybe even intentionally make itself look like a werewolf.”
Dean met his brother’s gaze. It seemed like such a long shot. But anything was better than reality at the moment. “You think it might have left Caleb’s and Rick’s things to lead the others away?” He winced at the almost pleading tone to his voice.
If Sam picked up on the desperation; he was kind enough to let it slide. “Yeah. They’ve been known to mimic people’s voices to lead other victims into a trap. Why not cover their trails? They have all the advantages of their human side plus the supernatural qualities they developed over the years of cannibalism. ”
“Damn.” Dean ran his hand over his mouth. “You really think this thing could be holding Caleb and Rick for snack time?” Three days. Caleb had been missing three days.
“It would make sense. Werewolves usually only take the heart and internal organs. If that’s what took Rick and Caleb then where’s the rest of them?”
Dean exhaled at his brother’s candor. Sometimes the kid was too analytical. “And you didn’t tell Dad or Bobby about this?” Sam shook his head. “Not even Jim?” Dean asked.
The kid shrugged. “I didn’t think they would believe me. Dad wouldn’t even talk to me before he left.”
Dean looked over the notes again, the grasping talons of hope taking better hold. “What’s it take to kill one?”
Sam moved closer to him. “You believe me?”
“I believe what you said about Caleb not giving up on us.” Dean handed the notes back to the teen. “So you better tell me what we need to take this bastard out. We’re not going in unprepared.”
Sam’s tentative smile faltered. “The journal was vague on that point. Silver stake to its heart is the most common theory. But steel and iron could work, too. Fire is another way.”
“You did real good, Sammy.”
Sam glanced down at the floor before looking back up to his brother. “It only counts if we find Caleb alive.”
Dean squeezed his shoulder. “I still appreciate it; and so would Damien.” He glanced around the room. They would not only need a plan for the Wendigo, but a course of action to get on the road. “Who’s left in the house?”
“Jim’s resting in his room. And I think Esme is staying in the room that Missouri uses.”
Dean’s frowned. “Esme?”
Sam’s grin returned. “Josh’s mom.”
“What the hell is she doing here?” In Dean’s book any Sawyer was one too many.
“She came to check on Mac.” Sam shrugged. “She’s nice.”
“Nice?” Dean snorted. “She was married to Harland. She gave birth to Joshua.”
“Mac likes her and she likes him.” Sam was pensive for a minute. “If they got married, Josh would be Mac’s son. Would we have to like him then?”
Dean glared at his brother. “Mac already has a son.” There was no way in hell Joshua Sawyer would take Caleb’s place. Over Dean’s dead body. He folded his arms across his chest. “And nothing could make me like Josh.”
“He’s still here, too,” Sam pointed out. “And Ian.”
“Do you know where they are?”
Sam shook his head. “Ian went towards the barn earlier, but I haven’t seen Joshua.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’s crawled back under the rock he came from.”
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“Where do you two think you’re going?”
The casual question from the dark recesses of Jim’s front porch stopped Dean in his tracks. Dean didn’t think he or Sam would have a problem sneaking off. They had left Scout in their bed, making it out of the house without alerting the pastor or his guests.
Joshua Sawyer was truly the last person he expected to encounter.
Dean turned slowly, eyeing the blond hunter as he stood up from one of the rocking chairs. “It’s early to be out for a stroll isn’t it, boys? The sun has yet to rise.”
Dean and Sam exchanged looks. The oldest Winchester faced off with Sawyer. “It’s none of your damn business where we‘re going.” Dean wasn’t about to let Joshua keep him and Sam from checking his brother’s theory. Sam had thrown him a rope, kept him from going under. Dean was positive Caleb’s life was hanging in the balance.
Joshua lifted his chin smugly. “Your father made it my business.”
“Dad left you in charge?” Dean shook his head, started for the steps again. There was no way his father would do that, even in his current state of mind. “I don’t think so.” Joshua was a damn liar.
Joshua’s quick move was agile like a cat as he blocked Dean and Sam’s path, stepping off of the front steps ahead of them. He held his hands out, a slight look of desperation crossing his features. “He said you and Sam were to stay at the farm and out of the hunt.”
That sounded more like it. John probably threatened Joshua. “If you must know, we’re going for breakfast. Now back off.”
Joshua crooked a brow. “With a loaded duffel and weapons? What do you take me for?”
“We’re Winchesters. Gear and guns are as run of the mill as shirt and shoes.” Dean smirked, throwing the duffel over his shoulder. “And do you really want to know what I think of you, Josh?”
Sawyer refused to move. “You’re going to Tennessee.”
“Step aside.” The older hunter was really beginning to piss him off.
“Think about this.” Joshua jutted his chin towards Sam. “Do you really want him to see what you’re likely to find out there? Do you want that to be your last memory?” Sawyer reached out and caught Dean’s arm. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Dean glared down at the hand holding his jacket, then refocused his fiery gaze on the blond. Sawyer was smart enough to remove his touch. “We can bring Caleb home.”
The older hunter rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Your father is trying to spare you, Dean. Trust me it’s not a task you should be dealing with.”
“We’re bringing Caleb back alive,” Sam said.
Dean glanced at his little brother. Sam had the folded topical map and two journals clasped against his chest. Jim would freak when he found out they removed them from The Tomb. But there wasn’t time to copy everything they might need. “Let’s go, Sam.”
“I’m sure you wish that were the case.” Joshua looked at the thirteen-year-old. “I can understand that. But Caleb is gone. The only thing you’ll be bringing home is his body.”
“Shut up.” Dean snarled.
Joshua took a step back, out of Dean’s reach. “I know we’ve had our misunderstandings, that Reaves and I have never been on the best of terms, but I am not saying this to be cruel. On the contrary, I know for a fact that Caleb would not want either of you put in such a position.”
“You don’t know anything about Caleb.”
“I beg to differ.” Joshua inclined his head. “I understood him quite well when it came to you two.”
Dean didn’t like Joshua talking about Caleb. He remembered far too many times when the other hunter had belittled his friend, taunted him about his abilities and gotten him in trouble with their father. Sawyer’s attempts to honor Caleb’s proposed posthumous wishes were too much. “Don’t make me move you, Sawyer.” Dean dropped the duffel. He’d been itching to take his frustration out on something. “On second thought, do. Please do.”
Sam moved onto the top step. He maneuvered himself in between the two-placing a hand on his brother’s chest. “Dean don’t.” He faced Joshua. “We think Caleb and Rick are still alive.”
Joshua stared at him. “That’s not likely.”
“Sam,” Dean warned. They didn’t owe Joshua Sawyer a fucking explanation. He’d quickly pound him into the dirt, then they’d be on their way.
The thirteen-year-old ignored his brother. “It is if you all weren’t hunting a werewolf, Josh.”
“Of course we were hunting a werewolf and it’s Joshua. All the signs were there.”
“Did you actually see it?” Sam questioned.
Dean exhaled heavily. His brother had to do things his way.
“No,” Joshua replied. “But that’s not unusual.”
“Did you find the remains of any of the victims?”
“No.”
“You can’t tell us that’s not odd.” Dean interjected, backing his brother up. “Wolves leave a nasty mess.”
Sam jumped in again before Joshua could respond. “And did you realize that the first missing hiker disappeared before the moon was in the correct phase for a werewolf to be involved?”
Dean watched Joshua’s frown deepen. He had to give his brother credit for throwing that last bit of information. “My father did the research. I don’t see him missing such a crucial detail.”
Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He understood all too well a son’s need to believe in his father, but he also knew Joshua wasn’t stupid. Harland Sawyer was no John Winchester. “You didn’t look into any of it on your own, did you?”
“That wasn’t my job on this particular hunt,” Sawyer defended.
“A hunter is only as good as his intel,” Sam spoke up again.
Joshua looked uncomfortable. Dean was certain the man knew exactly what Harland’s strengths and weaknesses were and was pretty sure Joshua’s father didn’t ask his son’s opinion on a hunt.
“If you insist on this nonsense, then you leave me no choice but to wake Jim.”
“That’s your answer.” Dean clenched his fists. Joshua was an idiot. “You’re going to rat us out?”
“Let’s see, inform The Guardian of your foolhardy plan or face the rage of The Knight when he comes home to find his sons missing on my watch. I’m sorry, but there’s no contest.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if Caleb and Rick are alive?” Sam turned on the puppy dog eyes. “You could keep us from saving them.”
“I suggest you tell your theory to your father and Bobby when they return. Or better yet, you can go see Jim.”
Before Dean or Sam had a chance to respond, Dean saw a flash of something in the gun-metal gray of morning light. There was a dull thud, then Joshua collapsed at their feet.
Dean barely had a chance to pull Sam out of the way as the blond hunter crumpled forward, landing in an unmoving heap at the base of the steps. “What the…”
“I always thought Joshua talked too damn much.” Ian Hasting stepped into the porch light, brandishing a thick piece of firewood in his right hand.
“You knocked him out.” Sam knelt next to Joshua, then glanced up to Hastings.
“You are smart.” Ian smirked. He bent beside the unmoving hunter, pulling a roll of duct tape from his pocket. “Excellent observation skills.”
“Why?” Dean asked. He eyed Hastings warily, pulling Sam away from the man.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Winchester.” Ian peeled a long piece of the tape from the silver roll, roughly wrapped it around Joshua’s mouth, then used more tape to bind Sawyer’s hands. Ian stood when he finished. “We’ll have to take him with us. He’s a loose end if he stays here.”
“And just where do you think you're going?” Dean asked.
Ian propped his hands on his hips. “Not to breakfast.”
“We didn’t ask you for your help. And we don’t need it.” Dean didn’t like the idea of working with Hastings. There was something off with the man. He was cold in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Caleb had made Dean promise never to hunt with Ian or his buddy Fisher. The seventeen-year-old was beginning to understand why.
“I can just as easily report to Jim, look like the good little warrior.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t answer my earlier question. Why the hell are you doing this?”
“I heard what you and the kid said about the werewolf. It sounds like you two have come up with something more optimistic than a recon mission for dead bodies.”
“Are you going against Harland?”
Ian snorted. “Details have never been one of Harland Sawyer’s strong points. Why do you think he hunts with Silas so much?”
“Have you heard of a Wendigo?” Sam asked. Dean felt like borrowing some of Ian’s duct tape to keep his brother quiet.
Hastings momentarily studied the thirteen-year-old. “Aren’t we a little far south for that?”
“Now who’s being pessimistic,” Dean chided.
Ian raised his hands in deference. “I’m just saying.”
“There’s no documentation that Wendigos limit themselves just to the Northwest." Sam looked from his brother to Ian.
Dean didn’t know why his brother was asking for permission now, so he gestured for the teen to continue. Sam licked his lips, holding out the map so Ian could see it in the faint light.
“I’ve found at least two documented cases where Wendigos were found as far south as Florida. And there are extensive cave networks in and around the area where Caleb and Rick disappeared.”
Ian raised a brow. “Yeah, but those are in the opposite direction of the trail we found, and not in the region from where the other victims disappeared.”
“Exactly. Obviously the damn thing is smarter than Harland Sawyer.” When Ian didn’t comment Dean jutted his chin to the unconscious hunter. “So are we going to stand around and waste more time talking about theories or we going to get Caleb and Rick back?”
“You’re driving.” Ian bent down and levered Sawyer’s deadweight. “My buddy Joshua calls the trunk.”
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The drive to Tennessee was silent except for Sam pointing out the location of the caves he’d found on the topographical map, and Ian making a few comments about the area. Hastings spent the rest of the time reading the journals Sam brought, basically ignoring the Winchesters.
That suited Dean. He didn’t like the other hunter. He wasn’t about to trust him. Their joint venture was one of necessity, nothing else.
“Turn at the next right. There’s a trailhead about two miles down the road.”
Dean cut his eyes to Hastings. “You sure the others wouldn’t have come in this way?”
“I’m not sure of anything. But I doubt they would have started this far west. Harland would have taken them to where we found the packs.”
A loud banging reverberated through the Impala. Dean returned his eyes to the road. “Your buddy’s awake.”
“Good. If your kid brother’s right about this thing being a Wendigo then we’ll need the man power.”
“Josh isn’t going to want to help us,” Sam said, leaning against the backseat.
“He won’t have much of a choice,” Ian replied. “He either helps us or we leave him taped up in the trunk.”
Dean shook his head. “You’re a real charmer, Hastings. Anyone ever told you that?”
“You’d rather I let him tattle to Pastor Jim?”
“I thought Josh was your friend?” Sam asked.
Ian laughed. “We grew up in the business together. His old man taught me a few things. Friends are a hindrance in our line of work, kid. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
“They come in handy if you need someone to watch your back.” Dean didn’t like Ian handing out advice to his brother. “It’s against the rules to hunt alone.”
“I don’t usually find myself in situation where I need someone to watch my back.” Ian turned his challenging gaze to Dean.
“What about your brother?” Sam asked
“Rick.” Ian met the thirteen’s questioning gaze with a flat stare. “What about him?”
“You two hunt together a lot?”
“Not really.” Ian shrugged. “We have different philosophies about the job.”
“He’s your big brother, right?”
Ian glanced to Dean before looking at the youngest Winchester again. “He’s older than me.”
“Then he watches out for you.”
“Like I told you; I watch out for myself.”
“But…”
“Drop it, Sammy.” Dean pulled the Impala off the road. He parked it behind one of the few cars lined at the trailhead. The less Sam interacted with Ian the sociopath, the better Dean would feel. At least the man was right about Harland. No familiar vehicles were there. “We’ve got work to do.”
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Dean popped the trunk, and glanced down at the red-faced hunter glaring back up at him. Joshua loudly mumbled something through the duct tape. “What was that?” Dean placed a hand alongside his own ear. “You trying to yell for Pastor Jim? We‘re a long ways from the farm.”
Ian didn’t give Winchester time to move before he roughly grabbed Sawyer by the jacket lapels. He yanked him from the car, manhandling him until Joshua was standing upright.
“It’s what you get for being a fucking brownnoser, Joshua.” Hastings ripped the tape from the blond hunter’s mouth without warning. “You always were a goody-goody, making things harder than they had to be.” Joshua had interfered with Ian’s plans before and paid the price in one way or the other.
“You!” Joshua exclaimed. “You did this!”
Ian reached in his pocket, pulling out a knife which he used to slice away the bindings around Joshua’s wrists. “You really left me no choice.” Ian was usually careful of Harland’s son, not that the senior Sawyer seemed to care what happened to his son. Ian imagined he and Harland viewed family in very similar ways.
“I trusted you.”
“First mistake.” Ian shook his head. “Your father taught you better than that.”
“You heard The Knight and my father as well as I did. No one was to follow them.”
Ian didn‘t give a fuck about what John Winchester said. “I didn’t hear a damn thing, and we didn't follow them.”
Joshua rubbed his wrists, glaring at the Winchesters. “Them I can almost understand, but you…” Joshua’s face twisted into a frown as he once again levered his icy blue gaze on Hastings. “What is your motivation for this idiotic goose chase?”
“I have a brother out there.” It was true. Rick and he were blood. It should have been all the motivation Ian needed he supposed, but honestly what pissed him off was the fact Rick had gotten himself taken out. It reflected badly on the Hastings name.
Sawyer rolled his eyes in disbelief, wiping a hand over his chapped lips. “That’s as valid a proclamation as me vowing to save a perfect stranger.”
Ian grabbed Joshua again, slamming him against the Impala. No one talked to him that way. “Don’t judge me, Sawyer. I take care of my own! No one takes something from a Hastings and gets away with it.”
“So this is about finding the monster and forcing it to make amends for wounding your pride?”
Dean shoved in between the two hunters. “Cut it out! We don’t have time for this playground shit.”
Ian let Dean assert his bravado. He would have loved to take the snot-nosed punk out. Perhaps when it was over, and he was sure Reaves was out of the picture for good, he’d treat Dean to the initiation he’d shared with Caleb.
“Says the schoolyard bully!” Joshua pulled away from Ian. He turned his heated gaze on Dean. “Wait until your father hears about this.”
“Don’t be a sore loser, Josh,” Sam spoke up.
Ian liked the younger brother better. He was ballsy without the smart-assed attitude that Dean shared with Reaves. “Yeah, Josh.” Ian slapped a hand roughly across Joshua’s chest. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
Sawyer made a move towards the teen, and Dean slammed him against the car this time. “Do it and you’ll be the one needing a search and rescue party when I’m through kicking your ass.”
“You’re never getting a ring after this,” Joshua informed Dean. “You’ll make me look like a prodigy.”
Ian had to hold his laugh. If Joshua hadn’t figured it out by now, he was more of an idiot than Harland thought. Dean Winchester would get a ring right on schedule, if not before. He was Murphy’s pet. Another reason for Ian to whip his ass.
“I don’t give a fuck about a ring.” Dean growled, releasing Sawyer. “I just want to find Caleb and bring him home.”
Ian rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. Joshua must have heard him because he glanced at Ian once more. “At least that’s an honorable answer.”
This time Hastings couldn’t contain his laugh. “As if you would know honor if it snuck up in the dark and bashed you on the head?” He smiled at his own humor. “Now are you going to work with us and keep your mouth shut or are you going back in the trunk to wait for us?”
“I assure you I’m not going back into the trunk.”
Ian braced himself for a fight. Joshua might have portrayed a fine, well-bred gentleman, but he fought dirty. He could easily defeat those stupid enough to underestimate him. But Ian wasn’t stupid.
“Then help us.” Sam stepped forward. “You’re one of The Brotherhood. You’re sworn to help and protect others who wear the ring. They’re your first priority.” Sam held his ground. “Even if you are a jerk.”
Ian really did like the kid, a fact he’d be sure to share with Griffin Porter.
“Is that some kind of persuasion tactic? Insult the person you are trying to convince?” Joshua sighed, cutting his eyes to Dean. “Typical Winchester, I suppose.”
“Yep.”
Sawyer glanced at the trunk, then regarded Ian once more. “Why do I get the impression I’m sorely going to regret this?”
Ian slapped Joshua on the back. “I wouldn’t worry. That’s probably just the side effects of the concussion talking.”
“You’re very funny.” Joshua grumbled. “But we’ll see who’s laughing when I bring Wally, the Beav and Eddie up on kidnapping and assault charges.”
Ian ignored the antiquated Leave It To Beaver reference and the veiled threat of Joshua tattling to The Triad. After all, they couldn’t exactly punish Ian without doling the same justice out to the Winchesters. That wasn’t going to happen. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”
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“What the hell do you mean; the boys have left the farm?” John demanded as Bobby rejoined them at Harland’s car. They had been searching for a few hours. Singer had used the phone in Mackland’s Land Rover to contact Jim regarding their unsuccessful mission thus far.
The mechanic looked between John and Mackland. “Seems Jim tried to get some rest and when he woke up, everyone was gone. To say The Guardian is not happy is a big-ass understatement.”
“Joshua too?” Harland looked surprised. “That doesn’t sound like him. Perhaps he and Ian went to look for the boys.”
Bobby snorted. “Yeah. Because that so sounds like something your son would do.”
“Bobby.” Mackland stated. “You’re not helping.” He glanced to John. “You don’t think they would come here?”
John favored him with an incredulous look. “What do you think, Doc?”
“I think I’m a fool.” The doctor ran a hand over his weary eyes. “Dean told me last night that he didn’t believe Caleb was dead.”
“Goddamnit!” John swore. He knew he should have talked to Dean before he left, drilled into his head why he had to stay behind. “This is all we need. When I get my hands on those two…”
“I could try to read their location.”
“I don’t have anything that belongs to them.” John gestured to Mackland’s vehicle. “We didn’t bring the Impala.” They had taken Ames’s vehicle because it was larger, better for the back road terrains.
Mackland sighed. “We’ll have to go back.”
John threw his arms up, wasted hours. “Wonderful. Just fucking beautiful!”
“We’ll never make it back before dark.” Bobby once again became the bearer of bad news.
“You have a better idea?” John snapped. “We could search for hours in these mountains, pass them by and never know it.” John didn’t fear for their safety as much as he did them having more success. The thoughts of Dean and Sam finding Caleb, or what was left of him, made his decision easy. “We have no choice but to head back to the farm.”
“I seriously don’t think Joshua or Ian would have been a part of something so foolhardy.”
John glared at Harland. “When I get a hold of them they’re going to wish they had been as smart as you think they are, Sawyer. Trust me.”
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“This is a foolish endeavor. You’re aware of that, correct?” Joshua grumbled as he shoved a tree limb out of his way.
“No it’s not. We know where the caves are,” Sam said, trailing behind Sawyer. Dean was in the lead, Hastings bringing up the rear.
“And where exactly would that be?”
“Dean and I determined their co-ordinates using Jim’s maps. The first one shouldn’t be much further.”
Dean, having overheard the comments, stopped to check his compass. He flashed Joshua a snide smile. “I guess you wouldn’t happen to have some kind of Wendigo tracking device on you, Josh? Because that Black Dog locator you had rocked.”
Joshua ignored the jibe at his failed attempts to detect a Black Dog on a hunt several years ago. Caleb Reaves would never be truly dead as long as Dean’s smart mouth lived on. “And what if these caves are nothing more than a spelunker's paradise?”
“They’re the most likely place for the Wendigo to hole up.” Sam took a drink from his canteen, offered it to his brother. “We’ve got three to check out.”
“We’ve been on foot for a few hours now.”
“With your droning on it seemed much longer than that.” Ian stopped suddenly. He bent down to observe a track in the soft earth. “Check this out.” He motioned to Dean.
The oldest Winchester knelt and brushed away some of the foliage. “Too big for a human print.” He met Hastings’s gaze. “You ever seen anything like this?”
Ian shook his head. “It sure isn’t any animal track-different than a big foot, too.”
Sam gave Joshua a satisfied smile. “Told you we were close.”
“I hate to be a ’I told you so’ kind of guy, but I did try to warn you this was a preposterous plan.” Joshua pushed his hair away from his face with a heavy exhale. They had most certainly found the first cave as Sam predicted-found it completely void of anything human or supernatural. Unless one counted flying rodents. “Nothing in that cave but bats.” Joshua hated bats.
“It's only the first one,” Sam protested. “The next one is close.”
If Joshua’s head hadn’t been pounding, he might have felt sorrier for the youngest Winchester. He refrained from further comments.
“I spotted another set of tracks and a couple of places that looks like something was dragged.” Ian jogged towards them from a cropping of trees. “And I found this.” He held up what looked like a watch.
Dean took the dirt-covered silver band. He turned it over in his hand. His breath caught.
Joshua watched him carefully brush away the embedded grass and earth to study the back, then those green eyes were staring at him. Not as smug as surprised. Like a child’s eyes on Christmas morning. “This is Caleb’s.”
“Are you sure?” Joshua knew he sounded skeptical, even unthankful. He was a realist. He took the wristwatch, scrutinizing the silver casing and shiny blue face. Anyone who knew anything about watches would have recognized it. “A Tag Heuer. Pricey, but less pretentious than Rolex and Cartier.” It suited Reaves. The man had a way of using his wealth without letting it define him.
Dean took it back, clasped it in his hand. “This proves he was here.”
Joshua’s face softened. “It doesn’t mean he’s alive.” False hope was cruel. Despite what others thought of him, he wasn’t merciless.
“Let’s keep moving,” Ian ordered, starting back along the path they had mapped.
Joshua was mildly impressed with the Winchesters. They had outlined the routes extremely well. He would not forget his forced participation in this jaunt, but he had to give credit where credit was due. They were well-trained and dedicated. Just like Caleb. Perhaps Jim Murphy wasn’t making the tremendous mistake his father claimed.
“Do you hear that?” Dean stopped suddenly, grabbing hold of his little brother’s arm, halting him.
“What?” Ian tilted his head. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. No birds, no rustling leaves.”
“There isn’t any wildlife around here,” Sam said, looking around their perimeter. “It’s like we stepped into some kind of black hole.”
“It is winter. Not exactly Bambi-like weather.” Again Joshua tried to be the voice of reason.
“Winchester’s right.” Ian swung his gaze around their surroundings. “Animals have an innate sense of evil. We need to be more careful if we‘re getting close. We don’t want that thing to catch us off guard.”
Joshua still wasn’t convinced of the Winchester’s Wendigo theory. Yet, he wasn’t so obstinate that he would jeopardize his life. “How far are we from the next cave?”
“It’s just up ahead.” Dean pointed west.
Ian knelt at the rocky ground by the cave entrance. He pointed to the dark red spots splattered over the earth and rotted leaves. “Blood.”
“How fresh?” Dean joined him.
Ian ran his fingers over some of the bigger splotches and rubbed his fingers together. “Pretty damn recent.”
Dean licked his lips, glanced to his brother. “Something has to be alive to bleed.”
“Your optimism is inspiring.” Joshua peered into the dark entrance of the cave, wrinkling his nose. “What is that rancid smell?” He did not look forward to another journey into the void, especially one that smelled.
Dean looked at him. He retrieved a gun from the back of his jeans. “Maybe it’s that pesky optimism of mine, but I’m going out on a limb and say that’s eau of Wendigo.”
Joshua gestured to the gun and then to the cross bow Sam was holding. “I didn’t think traditional weapons were effective.”
“Consecrated iron shells and silver-tipped arrows,” Dean replied. “Probably won’t kill it, but they’ll slow it down.”
“You hope.”
Dean offered him a half-assed grin. “Have a little faith, Josh.”
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“Look at this." John shoved a yellow legal pad at Bobby.
Singer took the paper. “And what am I supposed to be looking at?”
Winchester rolled his eyes, tapped his finger roughly on the paper. “I found this on Sam’s bed. I did a pencil rubbing to pick up any traces of what he might have written.”
Bobby held it closer to his face, studied the impression that had been highlighted. “Wendigo.” He breathed. Some of the color leached from his face. “Holy hell. You don’t think…”
“Did you research this hunt, Bobby?”
“Hell no!” Singer replied angrily. “I didn’t have a chance. Jim called me and the kid in as back-up. We were going on Harland’s intel.”
“And what was wrong with my information?” Harland entered The Hunter’s Tomb along with Mackland and Jim.
“Did you consider anything besides a werewolf?”John demanded.
“I thought about a Black Dog, but the moon phase seemed to fit with a lupine outbreak.”
“Johnathan, what are you thinking?” Jim moved alongside The Knight.
“It’s not what I was thinking.” John took the paper from Bobby. “It’s what Sam put together.”
“Your thirteen-year-old son?” Harland shook his head. “You think a child uncovered a detail I missed.”
“Sam is not your typical child.” Mackland moved to take the pad from John. “What’s a Wendigo?”
“One bad-ass cannibalistic sonofabitch,” Bobby answered. “It makes a Big Foot look like a member of the bovine family.”
“They start out as humans,” John picked up. “But somewhere along the line, whether out of necessity or maliciousness, they consume human flesh.”
“And there are all kinds of theories about the properties attributed to that.” Mackland nodded. “It’s taboo in almost every culture.”
“For damn good reason,” Bobby interjected. “A person might gain super strength and speed, but they also get more than they bargained for.” He raked a hand over his beard. “Over the years the person becomes something less than human. It’s hungry all the damn time. And the more it feeds, the more it grows in power. The more it feels the pain of needing to feed again.”
“It’s a never-ending cycle.” Jim spoke thoughtfully. “As is the case with most evil acts.”
“Why have I never heard of one of these?” Harland asked.
“They’re usually spotted in Canada and sometimes the far northern states.” Jim frowned. “If one shows up on our radar, it has been customary to send The Knight, or one specifically skilled in such creatures.”
“Thanks for that by the way,” John grumbled. “The only one I dealt with nearly did me in.”
“I think I was the one who almost ended up as its next meal,” Bobby quickly interjected. “And thank you by the way for calling me in as back-up.”
“Wasn’t like I was going to ask Dean or Caleb to do it.” John pointedly looked at Harland. “The Wendigo is a damn amazing hunter. It’s smarter than a normal human, deadlier than a grizzly.”
“I had no evidence of any such thing being in those woods.”
Bobby snorted. “The missing bodies would be a clue.”
“But Jim just pointed out that Wendigos usually stay north.”
“It’s not a given.” Jim moved to the shelves of journals, running his fingers along the spines. “Now where is that…”
John watched The Guardian as he mumbled under his breath and prowled along the back wall of The Tomb. “Jim?”
“I know that Maxim and Julian ran across one in Florida, but neither of their journals is here.”
John exhaled heavily. “Sam.”
Jim straightened. “My boy does like to read through the books.”
John frowned. He and Sam were going to have a long talk about taking things that didn‘t belong to you. “Your boy knows better than to remove them.”
“He must have uncovered the entries about the Wendigo and put the pieces together,” Mackland surmised. “But why would they go after it? Why in God’s name didn’t they come to us?”
Bobby and John shared knowing looks. John knew exactly what his sons were thinking.
“What?” Mackland demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Wendigo don’t usually kill their victims right away. They cart them off to their lair for safekeeping.”
When Mackland still seemed confused, John explained further. “They need a reserve of food for hibernation, Mac, and they like live prey.”
The proverbial light bulb blinked above the doctor’s head. “Caleb and Rick could still be alive.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mackland,” John cautioned.
“But that’s what Sam and Dean concluded. They think this creature is holding Caleb.” The doctor slid a hand through his hair. “Oh my God. He could be hurt. It’s been almost three days and I...”
“Mackland.” Jim put a hand on The Scholar’s shoulder. “We don’t know if any of this is valid. You know how boys are. You know those boys. They would do anything to bring Caleb back.”
“And there were signs of a werewolf,” Harland pointed out. “And the timing of the moon can not be discounted.”
“You think a Wendigo is smart enough to lead a hunter off its trail?” Mackland asked John.
Winchester nodded. “Yes. It can set a trap, too. Like nobody’s business.”
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The cave was damp, dark, cramped. Made more unpleasant by the over-powering smell of rotted meat. The path twisted and turned as they moved further into the belly of the tunnel. Dean felt his brother’s hand brush against his back as he panned the flashlight low against the ground.
He pulled his t-shirt further up over his nose to keep the smell from gagging him. Death was everywhere, lurking in the shadows. Dean hated the idea of Caleb being in such a place, but in the same thought he prayed he was there.
The narrow trail finally opened into a larger cavern and Dean shown the light around the open space. Sam gasped.
“Oh man.”
It didn’t take Dean long to understand his brother’s distress. “One hell of a mass grave.” Bones of different sizes and types littered the cave floor with a few skulls tossed in for good measure. Some were whitened by time; others still had tendons and muscle clinging to them.
“Looks like you hit the Wendigo thing right on, Winchester.” Ian clicked his tongue. “It looks like this bastard has been around for years.”
“Most are hundreds of years old,” Sam replied.
“Or we could have just found the lair of a very reclusive serial killer.”
Dean gave Joshua an incredulous look. “Yeah. Right. Hannibal Lector meets Grizzly Adams. Makes perfect sense.”
“Shh.” Ian held up his hand. “Something’s coming.”
Dean heard it too. “Damn.” He turned off the flashlight. “Take cover.”
They spread out, diving for large rocks and gaps in the walls. Dean pulled Sam behind a huge boulder, wedging him against the wall. Dean kept himself in between his brother and the threat of what was moving closer.
He edged his head up over the rock as the massive shape lumbered by. It had to be more than fifteen feet tall, lanky. Dean tightened his grip on his gun. It would be risky to take a blind shot, especially since they needed a heart hit.
The Wendigo seemed not to notice anything amiss, instead moving straight through the cavern towards the path leading outside. The smell of carnage strengthened as it passed. Dean swallowed hard to keep from being sick.
Once he was sure it was gone, Dean cautiously edged out. “You okay?” He asked Sam.
“Did you get a look at it?” His brother whispered.
“No. Just an idea of its size.”
“It was fucking huge,” Ian said, joining them. “As big as a Sasquatch.”
“It didn’t seem to realize we were here.” Joshua materialized from one of deep shadows along the far wall. “Don’t you find that a little strange?”
“I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” Ian nodded in the direction the Wendigo had come. “This is our chance.”
“Chance at what exactly?” Joshua demanded.
“To rescue Caleb and Rick,” Dean replied, thinking along the same lines as Hastings. If they could get in and out without a confrontation it would be better.
“And if that thing comes back we will be in its inner sanctum -its territory with no advantage.”
“You want to stay here with all the dead guys and stand guard, go ahead,” Dean growled. “We’re going in.”
Ian reached out and gripped Dean’s shoulder. “For once Joshua might not have a bad idea, Winchester.” He looked at Sam. “The kid could keep one of the radios and…”
“Hell no!” Dean hissed, shrugging off Hastings’s grasp. “Sam stays with me, and I’m going after Caleb.”
“Dean, maybe he’s right,” Sam whispered. “If that thing comes back I can give you guys a heads up-some warning.”
“No way, Sam!” Dean hissed.
“I don’t mind doing it,” Joshua offered quickly.
“No.” Ian shook his head. “You’re bigger and stronger. We may need you.”
“Now it all makes sense. You shanghaied me for my brawn.”
Sam clasped his brother’s shirt. “Caleb needs you, Dean.”
Dean didn’t like it, but it did make sense to have someone covering their asses-someone to alert them if the stinking Gumby look-a-like came back. He just didn’t want it to be his little brother.
Dealing with losing Caleb had opened his eyes even wider to the ever present reality of how quickly a job could go bad, how cruelly someone he loved could be snatched away. He couldn’t quite believe he had let his guard down. He vowed not to let it happen again.
“I promise I’ll stay hidden behind this boulder and contact you as soon as I see anything.”
Dean reluctantly relented. “Keep your guard up.” He handed his brother one of the walkie-talkies. “And no heroics. Got it?”
“Got it.” Sam smiled. “Same goes for you too, big brother.”
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“I can’t believe they pulled this shit.” John Winchester was in the passenger’s seat of Bobby’s car, on his way back to Tennessee. Mackland, Jim, and Harland were following in Mackland’s SUV. “We’ll never make it back before dark.”
“Don’t looked so surprised, Winchester. It’s not exactly like you raised them to sit around with their thumbs up their asses.”
“I didn’t teach them to be reckless and stupid either!”
“No, but kids tend to learn a lot just from modeling.”
“Shut up, Bobby!” John didn’t have the patience for Singer’s smart-assed remarks. Sometimes he wondered if Mackland realized exactly where Caleb and Dean had gotten that particular trait.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and admit who you’re really pissed at and get it out of your system.”
John frowned. “Right now I’m pissed at a lot of things.”
“You can admit it. You’re not going to hurt my feelings. Probably won’t be anything I haven’t thought myself.”
“Goddamnit, Bobby.” John placed a fist against his forehead. “You know how I feel about Sawyer and Hastings.”
“I know how you feel about Harland and Ian.” He cut his eyes to The Knight. “This was Rick. He’s a competent hunter, learned to hunt from his daddy who was a good man, not Slick Dick.”
“Caleb’s impulsive,” John countered. “You have to keep a short reign. He barely listens to us. He sure the hell ain’t going to take orders from someone like Rick.”
“Are you kidding me?” Bobby took his eyes from the road to flash John an incredulous look. “I’ve seen you send him into a whole hell of a lot more dangerous situations with the likes of Silas, Boone and a few others we won‘t mention.”
“Not after a fucking Wendigo.”
“I didn’t know that's what we were dealing with.” Bobby stated, glancing back to the highway. “And as I told you before, Junior didn’t exactly ask my opinion on the matter. As you pointed out, he rarely listens to a goddamn thing I say.” Singer groused under his breath. “Unless it’s something I don’t want him to pay attention to, then he’s got the fucking ears of a bat.”
John sighed. “How’d you piss him off?”
“Who said I did?”
John raised a brow. “What’d you say to him, Bobby?”
“You know how goddamn touchy he can be. He’s as prickly as a rosebush.”
“About a few things.” John frowned. “Mostly he lets stuff you say slide right off. Cuts you more slack than I would.”
Bobby’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t me that said anything. Damn demon we were exorcising did all the talking.”
John rubbed a hand over his mouth. “That would definitely be one of the things.” He could protect Caleb from a lot of things, but not his personal demons.
“I took a few extra measures to keep the ‘victim’ quiet and ordered Junior’s ass out of the room.” Bobby scratched at his whiskers. “He didn’t want to go so I might have told him he was a liability and too close to the situation, or something along that line.”
“Nice.” John exhaled heavily. Caleb would have twisted Bobby’s meaning, taken the words to heart. “You’re sensitivity amazes me.”
“Like you’re fucking Mr. Rogers.” Bobby glared at John. “You weren’t the one there having to watch his face as that demonic bastard spouted all its lies.”
“That’s the problem, Bobby. Caleb doesn’t really believe they're lies.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m going to set him straight on a few things when we find his scrawny ass.”
“Speaking of…” John looked at Singer. “You remember the way he looked when we gave him that piece of shit Jeep?”
Bobby frowned at the change in subject, but then his mouth twitched. “Goofy as hell.” Singer laughed. “Eyes lit up like we had given him the keys to one of those fiberglass foreign numbers he was fawning over.”
John nodded. “I can’t get that picture out of my head.”
Bobby cleared his throat. “When exactly did he grow up on us?”
John shook his head, turned his gaze to the darkened blur of scenery passing by. “When we blinked. Same as Dean.”
“Sammy will be next.”
John grimaced, his chest clenching. “I just hope we get a chance to bitch about that too.”
Bobby laughed. This time it was heartfelt. “Oh don’t worry, old man. I have a feeling Sam is going to give you a hell of a lot to bitch about.”
“Can you hurry it up, Bobby?”
“You wouldn’t be saying that if we were in the Impala.”
John snorted. “You wouldn’t be driving if we were in the Impala.”
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Dean was surprised the metallic twang of blood could permeate the putrid stench filling the space. There had to be a lot of it. Dean remembered his earlier statement about something needing to be alive in order to bleed. That only held true until so much blood was lost. Like the theoretical amount it would take to cover the foul aroma of death and decay.
Dean heard the familiar sound. It reminded him of the tire swing at Jim’s farm-the distinctive creaking of twine as it was pulled tight. Not three feet in front of him, a body was suspended from the ceiling, another not far past it.
“Dear God.” Joshua panned his flashlight over the expanse of the area.
“Let’s move further in.” He swallowed down his horror, the worry for Caleb and weaved in and out of the corpse pendulums.
The fresh splashes of red on a pale blue shirt and the long black hair drew his attention. It was a woman.
The girl didn’t move. To Dean’s surprise she had a pulse. That was something more than could be said for Rick. Without even touching the blond hunter, Dean knew the man was dead. His head was dropped to the side, lifeless eyes stared past Dean. Where his throat should have been was a gore of blood and tissue. The kill was recent.
“Rick!” Ian brushed past him, the beam of his flashlight joining Dean’s in illuminating the macabre mess. “Fuck!”
“Dean.” Joshua’s quiet statement had him tearing his eyes from Rick’s lifeless form and following Sawyer’s line of sight. Not four feet away from Hastings hung another body.
It was Caleb Reaves.
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