This week’s scene is in honor of Supernatural’s 200th episode. It’s from my short Wendigo, an affectionate send up of the show.
***
Sam settled down in Rick’s recliner, grateful for a little peace and quiet. No intense bass boomed from the speakers of Matty’s basement bedroom. The stairs were blissfully empty of Rick and Mina’s pounding feet.
The gods know I love the hell outta my kids, but the quiet is so nice.
His eyes drooped as the faint spring sun warmed the air in the living room. Then the ringing cell phone startled him completely awake. He grumbled as he got to his feet, heart still beating a little fast.
The name on the screen was the last one he ever thought to see. “Whatcha need, Dean?”
There was a long pause, before Dean’s smooth tenor answered him. “The opinion of someone in your business.”
“And what business is that?”
“Saving- hunting- The family business, Sam.”
Sam chuckled. “You got a fishy client?”
“No, they’re legit. It’s what I found. I think someone with your expertise might want to look at it.”
“You want to make sure you aren’t crazy.”
Dean paused for a long moment.“Yeah, something like that.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Good, see you in a few.”
Sam chuckled as he tied his shoes. Matty and Dean’s break up had been less than amiable to say the least. Whatever Dean had found had to be pretty disturbing for him to call.
Sam had never been to Dean’s office. He knew the man lived above it, and that was all he knew. Dean was affable, but very private.
As it turned out, the office was small; not cramped, but definitely a compact room. Sam was impressed at what Dean had done to make it look bigger. The walls were painted with horizontal stripes. The eight inch strips alternated between cream and stark white, and had razor straight edges. Mina had made a mess of one of the guest rooms trying the same technique.
The furniture was overstuffed and done up in warm colors. A single dark brown couch with thin avocado stripes sat under the window, facing a matching arm chair. The full coffee pot, and untouched danishes on the matching green table told Sam some client had just left.
“I’m in here, Sam.”
Dean’s voice came from an even smaller, blindingly white room. Matty’s ex sat at a modern white desk covered in photographs and papers. The late morning sun highlited the bags under his eyes and the yellowish tinge his brown skin had acquired since Sam had seen him last.
And while his goatee was as immaculate as ever, the normally barely there black fuzz of his hair was much longer than Sam had ever seen it before; tight curls were visible. Despite that, his suit was pressed into sharp creases and his dress shoes were shiny black under his desk.
He stood and shook Sam’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“Not a problem.” Sam ignored the way Dean’s hands fluttered once the handshake ended. No point in making things more awkward. “How can I help?”
Dean gestured to the clutter on his desk. “This is the file for Ms. Haley Collins. Her brother went missing a few weeks ago. Tommy liked hiking, and the further away from people he could get, the better. He always called home though.” Dean sat down at the desk with a sigh. “This time he was headed out to Blackwater Ridge in Colorado. The plan was for him to stop by the ranger station and call home every two days. When he failed to check in, Ms. Collins waited a day to call the park rangers, just in case he was held up or something.”
There were no other chairs in this room. Sam assumed Dean usually met clients in the other room, and leaned against the door frame. “How held up was he?”
“They searched for a week, but all they found was a damaged campsite.” Dean held up a picture of a ripped up tent stained with blood. “It was reported as a grizzly attack.”
“There are no grizzlies in Colorado.”
Dean nodded. “A week later the phone calls started, Tommy begging for his sister to meet him outside the city.”
“And she’s sure it’s him?”
“Sure enough to hire a private investigator, and scared enough not to go. All the blood on that tent was Tommy’s, but the calls were traced to a pay phone here in town.”
“Pay phones still exist?”
Dean gave a small smile that quickly faded. “Yeah, they’re still around. Not that it matters. I staked out that phone for three days. Nobody used it, but she still got the calls.”
Sam grunted.
“The police concluded it’s some kind of harassment, but that there was nothing they could do about it. They advised her to block the number and call them if she can think of anyone who had a grudge against her or her brother.” Dean met his eyes. “This is a monster, isn’t it?”
Sam shrugged. “It’s fishy alright.” He was about to suggest letting Matty and Mina look into it next weekend when a memory popped into his head.
His mother, her long black hair fading into the night as the campfire died. “Remember, niniijaas, when I’m gone, do not trust the sound of my voice.”
Sam shuddered as his stomach iced over. He remembered all the stories she would tell him around the campfire, and none of them were nice. “Fuck me, it’s a wendigo.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s a wendigo?”
Sam ignored him. “This is way too far south. Colorado should have been safe.”
“Earth to Sam, what the hell is a wendigo?”
“Well, knowing what I know now, I’d say it’s a particularly nasty type of vampire. My mother always told me it was a human who gave up their humanity by eating other humans.”
Dean shook his head. “And the difference is?”
“Semantics.” Sam ran a hand through his curls. “This is bad, Dean.”
“Like you-should-be-calling-the-others bad?”
“Like we-can’t-wait-to-call-the-others bad.”
“We can’t wait?”
“Rick and Matty are camping out of cell phone range. Mina’s on some office trust building retreat in Maryland, strict no phone policy.” Sam sucked in a breath. “Wendigos are strong, fast, smart, and have a habit of collecting humans to eat. There’s something they love about tucking away whole families at a time. If they’re expanding their territory, waiting even a day isn’t a good idea.”
Dean’s eyes were a touch too wide. “Sam, I’m not a demon hunter.”
“You are today.”
***
Words That Burn Like Fire 