DCBB: Welcome To Camp Wendigo (part 3)
Part One | Part Two
* * * *
In the next week, two more campers across the lake were reported missing. Anna’s group of campers in the Devil’s Trap cabin stopped their usual activities, and took to scouring the forest of Camp Wendigo, as well as for a mile on each side, looking for any sign of the missing children or their abductor.
Dean and Bobby took the boat over to the camp, hoping to gather as much information as they could. Dean stepped out onto the dock at Camp Chipmunk, and felt a bit outclassed. The place looked like he’d just stepped onto the set of a movie. There was an actual beach, with sand and a roped off area for swimming.
There certainly weren’t a billion weeds growing in the sandy area, and the swimming area had been raked out as well. Well, if the kids couldn’t get used to a few leaves brushing against their legs while they swam, how on earth could they expect to jump into a mucky swamp someday? Of course, these children had no plans to ever jump into a mucky, creature infested swamp. They just wanted to swim.
Dean and Bobby hiked up the hill towards some picturesque cabins, all looking like they’d been given a fresh coat of paint this spring to look their best for all the campers. It all made it easy to forget the haunting truth-that someone was preying on the kids at this camp. They headed up to the camp office.
Camp Chipmunk’s camp director was a large, cheerful looking woman in her forties, with long curly hair that wouldn’t be tamed. She showed them the pictures of the missing children. The boy who’d gone missing first, “His name is Brandon. He’s nine,” she said. He had a mop of brown hair that went in all directions, it reminded Dean of Sammy’s hair when he’d been younger, and big brown eyes that took up nearly half his face. “He was missing for awhile before anyone noticed, I think. Quiet boy. Really cute and athletic, but he keeps to himself mostly. I think we all thought he was in his bunk. But by lights out, we realized he was gone. After that we were on the look out.”
She pushed forward about twelve pictures of the two girls. “Jackie and Kyla,” she said. “They’ve been inseparable since the first day of camp. Jackie’s eight,” she pointed at the black girl in the photos. She had a smile so wide that in every photo, her eyes were squinted shut. In most of them her arm was slung around the other girl’s shoulder. Clearly that was Kyla, who had so many freckles it distracted Dean from the rest of her face, and beautiful hazel eyes that pierced right through him, even in a photograph.
“The last anyone saw of them, they were headed from the mess hall after dinner. They were headed toward their cabin, and they had a flashlight. We could see them, and the cabin’s just right over there,” she pointed. Dean could see the cabin clearly, right across the field. There was nowhere to hide between here and there. The walk seemed perfectly safe, even for two little girls. “I saw them myself, and they were halfway there. But they never made it back to the cabin. We knew they were missing within minutes, but there was no sign anywhere.”
Bobby took the woman’s hands in a gesture of comfort, before asking the tough questions. “Did anyone hear anything? When the girl’s were taken, I mean.”
She shook her head, looking horrified at just the idea of what anyone might have heard. “No. I just heard the counselor yelling for them out the door about five minutes later, and I knew they should’ve been there by now. It was like they vanished into thin air.”
“We’re gonna keep an eye out for them,” Dean promised. “Thank you for the pictures.”
Dean and Bobby still weren’t convinced that this wasn’t the work of a person, given the evidence, which was nothing. But even so, a threat in their neighborhood was a threat in their neighborhood.
“How do you think he did it?” asked Dean, back on the boat.
“However it is that people usually grab little kids and get away with it,” Bobby grumbled. “He’s bigger, faster, and he’s practiced. He covered their mouths right away and made for the woods.”
“You definitely think it was a guy then?”
“No idea. Could’ve been anyone. Anything.”
The pictures of the kids were hung up in the library, as well as a written account of the circumstances around when the children were taken. Brandon was most likely taken during daylight hours, but no one was around, and no one knew where from. If he was indoors or outdoors at the time of his abduction was a mystery.
The girls went missing at dusk. Quickly, quietly, and without a trace.
Brandon probably had a book with him, but that was just a guess. The girls definitely had a flashlight. There was no evidence of either object. Those went with the kids.
Immediately the library became more popular than it had ever been in any year of Camp Wendigo history.
* * * *
Everyone was on edge about the Camp Chipmunk situation, but regular activities continued as usual. Dean spent an hour looking everywhere in the camp for Claire and Krissy, terrified that something had happened to them. Eventually he discovered them back in their cabin, Claire braiding Krissy’s hair while they gossiped about Disney Channel TV shows.
For the first time ever, Dean wished Bobby had created a summer camp with more supervision. He hated not knowing where the kids went off to every afternoon, knowing that there was every chance they’d never come back.
Bobby finally caved and instigated a stricter approach to afternoon activities. “Everyone must actually choose something to do, not just wander around the camp aimlessly, doing whatever you want. If you go hiking, you must be with a counselor.” He side-eyed Ava and Jake, who’d gotten so caught up in their make out session half a mile through the trees, that they’d come back after dinner hour had ended. Thus being the incident that prompted the new rules.
Dean was cool with it, even if it did mean he had less free time in the afternoon. He would just have to find other times to meet up with Cas, like the other evening when they’d met up in the showers. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy himself anyway, if he was busy worrying that one of the stupid “Ghostfacer” kids, as they’d started calling themselves, was off being skinned alive somewhere.
Sam and his friend Jess spent most of their afternoons in the library, and Dean noticed Sam had developed a methodical way of searching out information relevant to the investigation. Today he was searching through local news articles dating back to the 1800’s.
“Hey Bobby,” he asked. “Why do you all this place Camp Wendigo?”
“A hundred some years ago there was a Wendigo killed in the area. Just on the south end of the property, actually. That was when it was first documented, and it was definitely killed a hundred years ago, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“And you’re absolutely sure it’s the only one?”
“Can’t be absolutely sure of anything, Sam. But there hasn’t been activity suspicious of a Wendigo here since that last one, and trust me, given the land’s history, it’s been on our radar.”
“Right.”
“You kids getting yourselves psyched up for the big Wendigo hunt then?”
“We’re still going through with that?” Jess asked. “I mean, it involves us running around in the woods by ourselves.”
“I was thinking of coming up with a buddy system, that put the younger campers with an older buddy. What’s Camp Wendigo if you don’t get to hunt a Wendigo?”
“I dunno,” said Sam, staring at his computer screen. “Safe?”
Next week was the last week of camp already. If Bobby didn’t call it off, John wasn’t going to know. He usually just showed up and started grabbing people. Eerily like the girl’s across the lake had been taken. And at that point, the hunt would be on.
Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted a Wendigo hunt or not, by this point. Castiel snuck in behind him, and sat down next to him. “You seem lost in thought,” he noted.
Dean snaked his hand between Castiel’s thighs, under the table. “Yeah, it’s a real problem lately.”
Cas played with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“Gross, Dean,” said Sam. “Your little brother’s right here, if you didn’t notice.”
“I’m gross? Look at you. You and your friend, doing research all afternoon.”
“Yes. We are in the library, around people, so Jess and I are doing research.”
Dean looked at Cas and squeezed his thigh. “Yeah? Well so are we.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t even know why Bobby lets you work here.”
* * * *
It was ten days until the end of camp, and all anyone was talking about was whether or not Bobby would call off the Wendigo hunt after all. No one else from across the lake had been taken in over a week, and the campers were once again beginning to feel more confident of their safety.
The counselors had returned back to their usual methods of supervising the campers, and the air of relaxation was returning back to the camp. “We’re probably going to do it,” said Andy, at breakfast. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Nah,” said Gwen. “I think Bobby’ll chicken out. We don’t see each other for days sometimes, camping out like we do. I mean, I hope he doesn’t, but I think he’ll call it off. He’d have to.”
“It would be the smarter thing to do,” agreed Jo, “but honestly. I think he’ll do that buddy system thing he thought up, and when that all falls apart, whatever, right?”
“I don’t really want to do it this year, to be honest,” said Becky. “I don’t feel safe.”
“Well, he’s got a few days left to decide,” said Jo. “I guess we’ll see what happens.
* * * *
After lunch most of the kids went swimming. It was one of those heavy afternoons that was over a hundred degrees, and Dean spent most of the afternoon underwater, a lake monster gunning specifically for Sam. Sam always complained that Dean went after him the most, and it wasn’t even fair, even on days when Dean was ignoring him. So it was especially fun to actually be a giant pain and not let Sam swim freely for more than five minutes at a time.
“Knock it off, Dean!” Sam kicked away from him, purposely kicking him in the ribs. “It’s not even funny.”
“Eh, it kind of is,” laughed Jess.
“You’re gonna get it now,” Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Then replaced his snorkel and dove back under the surface.
It was quiet down here. Just kids’ legs, standing out stark white against he murky water. Seaweed tangled around Dean’s ankles, and itched at his toes, and he chose another target, deciding that was enough for Sam and Jess. For now. He’d be back for them after he pulled Ben under.
Ah, but Ben was too quick for him and Dean surfaced again. It was too hot to be anywhere else today, so everyone was in the water. Even Bobby. It made it harder to choose a victim, and harder to sneak between swimmers undetected, but all in all, that wasn’t a big deal. It was just one of those peaceful afternoons where everyone was splashing and having a good time.
Dean dove back under the water again and swam over to where Castiel was treading water. He had no idea if Castiel had noticed him or not, but whatever. He grabbed his swim trunks and pulled them down to his knees, then started palming at his junk under the water. He could hear Cas’ muffled shouting through the water, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Castiel reached down and grabbed Dean by the hair, before ripping the goggles and snorkel from his head.
Keeping his hand right where he wanted it, on Castiel’s cock, Dean’s head popped up above the water.
“I’ve done it!” Castiel announced. “I’ve killed the lake monster! No need to worry, you can send the children back in the water. The lake monst-“
Leave lavish praise for the artwork!
Dean shut Castiel up by tickling his fingers against his balls. “Now don’t get ahead of yourself there Cas. You better make sure the monster’s really dead,” Dean grinned, then swam off, leaving Castiel to pull up his shorts before he lost them at the bottom of the lake.
That was the day that Ben didn’t come back.
* * * *
There were two options, basically. Either A) Ben was taken by the same person who took the children from Camp Chipmunk. It would fit the mystery assailant’s M.O., as Ben was only slightly older than the other children, and he disappeared apparently into thin air. Or B) John had gotten his dates mixed up and the Wendigo hunt was starting a few days early.
Bobby was trying to get a hold of John Winchester, dialing and redialing every couple minutes, but it just kept ringing before switching to voicemail. Finally he frowned, shoving the phone across the table. “Why don’t you try it,” he scowled at Dean. “He’s your father.”
“If we can’t contact John, we need to assume the worst,” said Rufus. “Give you guys fifteen more minutes, then I’m reporting him missing to the police.”
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” said Bobby. “Assume the worst, yes. But the local opinion of me is never exactly the greatest. Report a kid missing and they could just shut us down.”
“They lost three kids across the lake and I don’t see them getting shut down,” Rufus pointed out.
“Somehow the vibe over there’s different,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “You have better upkeep and make sure the place actually looks like a summer camp, somehow I think you get more of a pass.”
“Bullshit bunch of crock.”
“We still have to report him missing, Bobby,” said Ellen. “If we don’t and never find him, the situation will be worse.”
Dean tried dialing his dad for a third time, and gave up when the voicemail picked up again. “Listen Dad, it’s Dean. We need to know where you are and if you’re at camp yet. It’s important.”
“He probably won’t call back,” Dean sighed, hanging up.
“He never actually does,” said Bobby, looking at the ceiling. “Okay. I’m calling off the hunt. Kids are all staying inside tomorrow, I don’t care if it’s hundred and ten degrees, tomorrow’s a movie day. Dean, get in the truck. You and I are going out to scope the nearby properties again for any signs of anything. Rufus, you and Anna go out and double check the wards.”
“In the dark? Bobby.”
“I don’t want to take any chances, and I want to know what this is. If the wards are intact, then at this point we can know for sure it’s a human. And then I’ll report Ben missing. If they’ve been messed with, we might have a whole different situation on our hands.”
“Still hard to check ‘em in the dark.”
Bobby rolled his eyes, “Just check the damn wards, Rufus.” He turned to Dean, “Get your stuff; let’s go.”
Before they left he asked Ellen to stay with Dean’s kids in the Silver cabin for the night, and Jo to hang with the Devil’s Trap cabin. Bobby wasn’t leaving anyone alone.
It was a long night, driving around the lake and past “No trespassing” signs to peer through windows of houses and cabins. There was nothing suspicious to be found, even in the properties that were empty. An old, rundown mobile home, nothing. Two dilapidated barns? Nada.
Dean and Bobby rolled back into camp at well past one in the morning with no more information than when they’d left, except that whoever was responsible, he wasn’t staying in one of the obvious places around the lake.
Rufus and Anna were waiting for them by the main office. “Got some bad news,” Rufus started out. “Remember that wind storm a couple days ago?”
Dean nodded.
“Well turns out it took down a tree, which knocked out several of those wards, as well as a devil’s trap. So could be lots of things getting in here.”
Dean spotted Sam out of the corner of his eye, running down the hill from the Crossroads cabin in his pajamas, his bare feet slipping on the dewy grass.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“I saw the headlights. Did Castiel go with you guys?”
“What? No. He’s supposed to be back with you. You haven’t had an adult with you all night?”
Sam shook his head. “He never came back. We figured he was with you. But we’ve been taking shifts keeping a lookout for anything strange.”
“What happened to Castiel?” Dean asked, despite how obviously no one would know the answer. “Where’s Cas?” He surprised himself with how panicked he felt. Ben disappearing was terrible, but that kid could handle himself.
Castiel was different. He was stronger and more capable than Ben, Dean knew on principle, but at the same time the stupid guy made weird choices. And he didn’t always actually know he was stronger than most things, since he’d lost so much of his strength since becoming human.
“Let’s get inside, everyone,” said Bobby. “We’ll talk more when we’re less exposed.”
* * * *
It was almost two in the morning, but obviously no one was getting any sleep. The entire camp was crowded into the library, several of the older campers scouring over the Camp Chipmunk information again, while everyone else just waited to hear what else was going on.
“Cas getting grabbed breaks the pattern,” Dean pointed out. “Whatever it is, it isn’t just taking kids. It’s probably just taking whoever’s an easy target at the moment. Whoever’s alone and out in the open.”
“Our wards were up around the camp up until two days ago,” said Anna. “And until then, nothing happened to us. Whatever it was stayed over at Camp Chipmunk. Now that we’re open to attack, our people are going missing.”
Dean nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it’s a who anymore Bobby. We have to assume that it’s a thing, at this point.”
“I think it’s a Wendigo,” said Sam, seriously. At least half the room burst out laughing.
“Sam, just because the camp is called Camp Wendigo, doesn’t mean that we’re getting attacked by an actual Wendigo,” said Gwen, like she was talking to a very small child.
“It’s not just because of the name of the camp,” Sam said, staring her down. “It’s the speed with which the kids across the lake disappeared. Something that can move fast, very fast, had to have taken them. And get this… There was a series of bear maulings about fifty miles from here. That was seventeen years ago. That same year? Five missing persons cases that went unsolved.”
“Fifty miles from here,” said Jo. “You think it moved?”
“There’s a housing development there now.”
“When did you find all this out, Sam?” asked Bobby.
“Back a few days ago, when I asked you why you named the place Camp Wendigo. I could tell you were all gonna laugh me outta the room, so I figured I wouldn’t bother. Until now. Now, with the wards gone and everything…”
“Well,” said Jo, “At least we’ve all got a lot of practice taking one of these fuckers out, right?”
Everyone looked around solemnly, contemplating their own mortality. “Right. If you want to pretend like shooting my dad with a specific color of paintball, then sending up a flare, then managing to hit him again with another paintball, is the same thing that’s going to kill an actual Wendigo, good luck,” said Dean.
He looked over at Sammy. Little Sammy, who could follow a pattern better than Dean could, and had taken out their dad the Wendigo for two years running. But this was different.
“Okay, everyone. I know we’re wired and no one’s going to be able to sleep,” said Bobby, “But no one, no one, is to go out after dark. No one goes anywhere alone, even in daylight. Everyone under the age of sixteen is indoors tomorrow. I don’t care if it’s the worst summer ever for you, tomorrow is a movie day. Ellen and Uriel will stay here. Everyone else, we’re gonna find those kids. But tomorrow.”
“So we’re just gonna sit here?” balked Gwen.
“Never said you couldn’t start movie day early,” said Bobby. “Do whatever you want, but stay indoors,” He poked her in the chest to make his point. “Get some rest Gwen. We’re going Wendigo hunting.”
Gwen held her arms out in question. “I’m fifteen.”
* * * *
Bobby split the camp into teams. “Stay with your team,” he reminded, giving Rufus an especially stern look, then passed out walkie talkies. “We’re on channel two.”
It could be safely assumed that the Wendigo was staying outside the camp, so no time was going to be wasted by staying within the confines of Camp Wendigo. Dean and Jo were a team, and were headed west, in the direction of the downed tree that had taken out the wards.
Meanwhile Anna and Ash had gone with Bobby, and Gwen had gone with Rufus. She pointed out again that she was only fifteen, to which Bobby said, “Sixteen is an arbitrary line, but it’s mostly relevant. I’m bringing people who are smart and capable. End of story.”
Ronald, who actually was sixteen, was stuck staying behind. “Worst. Wendigo hunt. Ever,” he complained.
The sun was just barely rising over the lake, but it was light enough, and they set off.
“So,” said Jo, as she and Dean walked down the main path toward the edge of camp. “How’s things with you can Cas?”
“You mean the Cas who’s missing?” Dean frowned. They were moving quickly enough that it was just a little difficult to talk.
“Yeah, sorry. So good aside from that bit?”
Dean met her with silence.
“You know, he’s probably not dead. You know Wendigoes, how they like to play with their food.”
“You’re kind of being not awesome, Jo.”
“You really like him, huh?”
It was way too early for Dean to have this conversation, or respond appropriately. “Yes, Jo, damnit. Yes I like him. I don’t understand what he sees in me, but he sees something and it makes me feel weird, like in a good way. And he’s sweet and he cares about everyone. And he’s been taking care of Sammy all summer. And when it’s just me and him together we can both be ourselves. He doesn’t know how to judge me negatively. Of course I like him.”
“We’ll find him, Dean,” she turned to look back at him, before ducking off the trail, heading for the quickest way out of camp. “Seriously.”
“I know. And we’re gonna find Ben and those kids too.”
Jo bit her lip. “I’m worried about the other kids.”
“Ben can probably take a Wendigo out on his own,” said Dean.
“I know. The boy though, he’s been gone for awhile.”
Dean nodded but didn’t say anything. It was a grim thought. Some sweet little boy who was on his own, because like Sammy, he didn’t always get along with the rest of the kids. He was probably wandering through the woods, making the best of a lonely summer day, when the thing pulled him up into the tree by that cute mop of hair he had.
No one saw much of him at camp while he was there, and no one might ever see him again. Dean sped up his pace, angry that they hadn’t realized what it was earlier. Even when all signs had pointed to the incident not being their kind of case-it didn’t matter when people were dying.
They didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, but it could be pretty much anything. Anywhere where something could be living, and where it could store its food. Where it could store the kids and Castiel. So naturally occurring caves, a cluster of fallen trees arranged like a shelter, a deer-hunting stand that had been embellished upon.
“Hey you guys, over here!” Rufus shouted from somewhere over the hill rise behind them.
Jo turned to yell back to him, but Dean grabbed her. “Wait. Voices over walkie, only. Remember?”
Jo’s eyes grew wide. “Right,” she whispered, and pulled her knife from her pocket. The Wendigo was following them.
“We must be getting close,” Dean whispered. “Hand me the walkie.”
Jo plopped it into his hand, and Dean took a deep breath. “This is Dean. Jo and I are about two miles west of the camp; Wendigo’s on our ass.”
Seconds later Ash’s voice crackled over, “You guys all right?”
“For now. Proceeding with caution.”
Dean didn’t want to say exactly how scared he felt. Wendigoes were strong, near perfect killers. It could sneak up on them and kill them before they even noticed. Now they were most likely closing in on its lair, and it knew it. It had the upper hand, because it knew exactly where they were.
All they had were their knives, as well as aerosol cans and lighters. Dean really felt like they were just bumbling around in the woods, waiting to get ripped apart.
“We must be close,” Dean whispered. “So how can we be more methodical in our search?”
Jo just looked at him like, “I don’t know.” The pair moved on as silently as they could, without looking like they were scared, or moving in any special way. Every bird call, or scamper of a squirrel across the branches above them, had them on edge.
“It’s gonna know we know, if we keep jumping like this,” said Jo.
“It already knows we know. We had to call in where we were on the walkie, but I bet it heard us. Wendigo is smart, and it has inhuman senses. We’re lucky if it wasn’t listening in.”
Another squirrel rustled the leaves overhead, and instead of jumping in his skin again, Dean forced himself to look up and watch it bounce through the branches until he couldn’t see it anymore. “C’mon, let’s keep heading toward where there’s a stream over here.”
Jo nodded.
They were both slammed into the ground, heads smashing into the earth. Then it was lights out.
* * * *
Dean didn’t know how long he’d been out, but Jo was already awake and working on setting herself free from the ropes around her ankles when he came to. They were in some sort of cave, but it was more like a den. It had dirt walls and ceiling, and was almost like the Wendigo had carved it out itself. He was sitting on the dirt floor with his ankles tied together, and his arms tied behind his back and around a root system for a large tree.
It was dark, but Dean could make out that there were others in the den. “Welcome back, Dean,” Ben said in his snarkiest voice. “Need help getting free?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice. How’d you get free?”
“Patience. Also the Wendigo didn’t realize he’d set me on a rock. Could feel the thing digging into my ass, and once I managed to get my legs under me, I kicked it to where I could grab it. And this isn’t very interesting.” He pulled out his knife and cut Dean free.
“How long have you been able to get out? Why are you still here?”
“I cut the girls free, and told them to hide. Back there,” he pointed to a small tunnel hidden back in the shadows. When Dean looked closely he could see two sets of eyes peering back at him. “I thought about telling them to run for it, but figured they’d be caught again quick. Decided to wait for back up. Then Castiel showed up, but clearly not on purpose.”
“Where’s Cas now?” Dean asked.
“He left. Went looking for the Wendigo.”
“He what? Like he’s going to fight the Wendigo on his own?”
“No, he’s following it. Jackie and Kyla said they never saw the other boy. We thought there might be another lair somewhere. Castiel went to see if he could find it.”
Jo shook her head, while Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, he probably did find it. When the goddamn Wendigo found him again and brought him there. Jesus Cas, how are you so stupid?”
As if on cue, a voice crackled in on the walkie talkie. “We found the Wendigo’s lair,” said Bobby. “It’s in a cellar of a house that’s fallen down into its foundations. Can’t see where it is until you get right up to it. The house is pretty much gone, but the cellar’s intact.”
“Bobby,” Jo called, “Thing’s got two lairs. Dean and I got taken.”
“What? Are you hurt?”
“No. We have Ben and the girls. No sign of the Wendigo.”
“Ask him if Cas is there,” said Dean.
Jo looked at him like she was about to tease him, but resigned. “Is Cas there? Or the other little boy?”
There was no response.
“Shit,” said Dean. “It’s there. We can go get it before it gets back.”
Jo nodded. “You girls stay there. It’s bigger than a man and can’t fit down the tunnel. You’re safe as long as you stay hidden. C’mon, let’s go.”
“Ben,” said Dean. “You know what way Cas went. Lead the way.”
Ben nodded and carefully they dug themselves out of the den, and ran off through the trees.
* * * *
Clearly the Wendigo had no idea it was being watched, as it was simply standing in the middle of the clearing where the old house used to be, like it was contemplating its next move. It thought it had a lot of things running fine, and didn’t seem worried about hunters at all. It looked vaguely wolf-like, covered in a layer of fur that reminded Dean of a timber wolf, but it still stood in a human posture. Its legs are arms still facing in a human direction. But the Wendigo’s nose was turned into a grotesque shape, and its eyes glowed a deep orange color, like the last embers of a fire about to go out. Its teeth were the most wolf-like thing about it. They were long and vicious, and could no longer fit inside its mouth. Wolf fangs, trying to exist on a mockery of a human face.
Great, thought Dean.
“You think we can take ‘im? I think we can take ‘im,” Claire’s voice whispered from behind him.
Wait, what? Claire? He looked down, and she grinned up at him, putting her finger in front of her lips to shush him. Then she made to look all around the clearing.
And there they were. Everyone from the camp, hidden behind the underbrush, only visible if you were really looking for them, all of them armed with a lighter and an aerosol can of bug spray. They were looking to him, waiting for a signal.
Dean took up his lighter and thumbed the ignition for a second before nodding, and lighting it. Everyone surrounding him copied.
The Wendigo looked up, hearing the clicks of thirty lighters all at once, surrounding him in all directions.
“GO!” Dean yelled, and ran for the Wendigo, bug spray at the ready so when he got with in several feet he stopped and sprayed.
The Wendigo was surrounded by the flames from all sides, nowhere to go, as his skin blackened in front of them. It started to lash out, but every time it did, it couldn’t get close enough, more of the fire getting in the way.
Dean looked over and caught Sammy’s eye, nodding at him. He was proud of the kid. He’s the one who figured all this out. And he could tell Sam got that, because he smiled back at Dean, before turning back to the Wendigo and continuing to flame its ass.
Quickly, the flames began to die out from the cans, but the Wendigo still burned in front of them.
“Whoa,” said Ronald. “I don’t know how you guys pulled these effects off, but this is fantastic!”
The Wendigo continued to moan and burn. It wasn’t dead yet.
“It’s cool,” said Rufus. “I’ve got lighter fluid.” He poured out the whole container on the dying creature. “Don’t suppose anyone brought marshmallows.”
“Kinda feel bad for the poor thing,” said Krissy. “I mean, that it couldn’t die more quickly.”
“Are you kidding?” said Ben. “That thing tried to eat me.”
“And all of Camp Wendigo came together to save the day!” said Claire.
Anna looked down at her. “I think it’s safe to say, that this has officially been the best summer ever!”
“BEST SUMMER EVER!” the kids all yelled, and started hugging each other.
* * * *
Dean left the party, to go check out the cellar. Bobby was unconscious and tied up at the bottom of the ladder, but Dean could see his stomach moving. “Hey Bobby, you all right?”
No response, but Dean was certain he’d be fine. It was dark in the cellar, so Dean lit his lighter again, and peered around for any other signs of life. He rounded a corner when he saw them.
The little boy, Brandon, was in rough shape. Dean couldn’t quite tell if he was alive. Dirt streaked his face, and he was thin. Really thin. Of course he’d been missing a long time. “Hey, hey Brandon,” Dean patted his cheeks.
His eyes opened slowly, a weak moan escaping his cracked lips. But he was alive. He’d probably have to spend a few weeks in the hospital, but he was alive. “Oh, Brandon! You stupid kid, you’re alive!” Dean grinned at him, and mussed up his hair.
“Dean?”
The voice came from behind him, and there was Cas. His t-shirt ripped almost in half, and wearing his pajama bottoms, there was Cas. Blood smeared across his face, mixed with dirt, and weariness from not having slept in a day. He looked terrible, but he’d never looked more wonderful in all his life.
Or at least not all his life since Dean had known him. “Cas,” Dean gasped, the tightness he’d been ignoring in his chest releasing, and without even noticing he was on his feet and scooping himself around him.
“You’re alive. Everyone’s alive. Cas, you stupid asshole, how’d you even get yourself taken by a Wendigo anyway,” Dean was punching him on the shoulder. “After the entire apocalypse and you’re just gonna get yourself ki-“
Castiel shut Dean up, closing his lips over Dean’s, and humming into his mouth. “We all lived, Dean.”
And it really was the best summer ever.
The End.
* * * *
In the next week, two more campers across the lake were reported missing. Anna’s group of campers in the Devil’s Trap cabin stopped their usual activities, and took to scouring the forest of Camp Wendigo, as well as for a mile on each side, looking for any sign of the missing children or their abductor.
Dean and Bobby took the boat over to the camp, hoping to gather as much information as they could. Dean stepped out onto the dock at Camp Chipmunk, and felt a bit outclassed. The place looked like he’d just stepped onto the set of a movie. There was an actual beach, with sand and a roped off area for swimming.
There certainly weren’t a billion weeds growing in the sandy area, and the swimming area had been raked out as well. Well, if the kids couldn’t get used to a few leaves brushing against their legs while they swam, how on earth could they expect to jump into a mucky swamp someday? Of course, these children had no plans to ever jump into a mucky, creature infested swamp. They just wanted to swim.
Dean and Bobby hiked up the hill towards some picturesque cabins, all looking like they’d been given a fresh coat of paint this spring to look their best for all the campers. It all made it easy to forget the haunting truth-that someone was preying on the kids at this camp. They headed up to the camp office.
Camp Chipmunk’s camp director was a large, cheerful looking woman in her forties, with long curly hair that wouldn’t be tamed. She showed them the pictures of the missing children. The boy who’d gone missing first, “His name is Brandon. He’s nine,” she said. He had a mop of brown hair that went in all directions, it reminded Dean of Sammy’s hair when he’d been younger, and big brown eyes that took up nearly half his face. “He was missing for awhile before anyone noticed, I think. Quiet boy. Really cute and athletic, but he keeps to himself mostly. I think we all thought he was in his bunk. But by lights out, we realized he was gone. After that we were on the look out.”
She pushed forward about twelve pictures of the two girls. “Jackie and Kyla,” she said. “They’ve been inseparable since the first day of camp. Jackie’s eight,” she pointed at the black girl in the photos. She had a smile so wide that in every photo, her eyes were squinted shut. In most of them her arm was slung around the other girl’s shoulder. Clearly that was Kyla, who had so many freckles it distracted Dean from the rest of her face, and beautiful hazel eyes that pierced right through him, even in a photograph.
“The last anyone saw of them, they were headed from the mess hall after dinner. They were headed toward their cabin, and they had a flashlight. We could see them, and the cabin’s just right over there,” she pointed. Dean could see the cabin clearly, right across the field. There was nowhere to hide between here and there. The walk seemed perfectly safe, even for two little girls. “I saw them myself, and they were halfway there. But they never made it back to the cabin. We knew they were missing within minutes, but there was no sign anywhere.”
Bobby took the woman’s hands in a gesture of comfort, before asking the tough questions. “Did anyone hear anything? When the girl’s were taken, I mean.”
She shook her head, looking horrified at just the idea of what anyone might have heard. “No. I just heard the counselor yelling for them out the door about five minutes later, and I knew they should’ve been there by now. It was like they vanished into thin air.”
“We’re gonna keep an eye out for them,” Dean promised. “Thank you for the pictures.”
Dean and Bobby still weren’t convinced that this wasn’t the work of a person, given the evidence, which was nothing. But even so, a threat in their neighborhood was a threat in their neighborhood.
“How do you think he did it?” asked Dean, back on the boat.
“However it is that people usually grab little kids and get away with it,” Bobby grumbled. “He’s bigger, faster, and he’s practiced. He covered their mouths right away and made for the woods.”
“You definitely think it was a guy then?”
“No idea. Could’ve been anyone. Anything.”
The pictures of the kids were hung up in the library, as well as a written account of the circumstances around when the children were taken. Brandon was most likely taken during daylight hours, but no one was around, and no one knew where from. If he was indoors or outdoors at the time of his abduction was a mystery.
The girls went missing at dusk. Quickly, quietly, and without a trace.
Brandon probably had a book with him, but that was just a guess. The girls definitely had a flashlight. There was no evidence of either object. Those went with the kids.
Immediately the library became more popular than it had ever been in any year of Camp Wendigo history.
* * * *
Everyone was on edge about the Camp Chipmunk situation, but regular activities continued as usual. Dean spent an hour looking everywhere in the camp for Claire and Krissy, terrified that something had happened to them. Eventually he discovered them back in their cabin, Claire braiding Krissy’s hair while they gossiped about Disney Channel TV shows.
For the first time ever, Dean wished Bobby had created a summer camp with more supervision. He hated not knowing where the kids went off to every afternoon, knowing that there was every chance they’d never come back.
Bobby finally caved and instigated a stricter approach to afternoon activities. “Everyone must actually choose something to do, not just wander around the camp aimlessly, doing whatever you want. If you go hiking, you must be with a counselor.” He side-eyed Ava and Jake, who’d gotten so caught up in their make out session half a mile through the trees, that they’d come back after dinner hour had ended. Thus being the incident that prompted the new rules.
Dean was cool with it, even if it did mean he had less free time in the afternoon. He would just have to find other times to meet up with Cas, like the other evening when they’d met up in the showers. He wasn’t going to be able to enjoy himself anyway, if he was busy worrying that one of the stupid “Ghostfacer” kids, as they’d started calling themselves, was off being skinned alive somewhere.
Sam and his friend Jess spent most of their afternoons in the library, and Dean noticed Sam had developed a methodical way of searching out information relevant to the investigation. Today he was searching through local news articles dating back to the 1800’s.
“Hey Bobby,” he asked. “Why do you all this place Camp Wendigo?”
“A hundred some years ago there was a Wendigo killed in the area. Just on the south end of the property, actually. That was when it was first documented, and it was definitely killed a hundred years ago, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“And you’re absolutely sure it’s the only one?”
“Can’t be absolutely sure of anything, Sam. But there hasn’t been activity suspicious of a Wendigo here since that last one, and trust me, given the land’s history, it’s been on our radar.”
“Right.”
“You kids getting yourselves psyched up for the big Wendigo hunt then?”
“We’re still going through with that?” Jess asked. “I mean, it involves us running around in the woods by ourselves.”
“I was thinking of coming up with a buddy system, that put the younger campers with an older buddy. What’s Camp Wendigo if you don’t get to hunt a Wendigo?”
“I dunno,” said Sam, staring at his computer screen. “Safe?”
Next week was the last week of camp already. If Bobby didn’t call it off, John wasn’t going to know. He usually just showed up and started grabbing people. Eerily like the girl’s across the lake had been taken. And at that point, the hunt would be on.
Dean honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted a Wendigo hunt or not, by this point. Castiel snuck in behind him, and sat down next to him. “You seem lost in thought,” he noted.
Dean snaked his hand between Castiel’s thighs, under the table. “Yeah, it’s a real problem lately.”
Cas played with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “If there’s anything I can do to help…”
“Gross, Dean,” said Sam. “Your little brother’s right here, if you didn’t notice.”
“I’m gross? Look at you. You and your friend, doing research all afternoon.”
“Yes. We are in the library, around people, so Jess and I are doing research.”
Dean looked at Cas and squeezed his thigh. “Yeah? Well so are we.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t even know why Bobby lets you work here.”
* * * *
It was ten days until the end of camp, and all anyone was talking about was whether or not Bobby would call off the Wendigo hunt after all. No one else from across the lake had been taken in over a week, and the campers were once again beginning to feel more confident of their safety.
The counselors had returned back to their usual methods of supervising the campers, and the air of relaxation was returning back to the camp. “We’re probably going to do it,” said Andy, at breakfast. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Nah,” said Gwen. “I think Bobby’ll chicken out. We don’t see each other for days sometimes, camping out like we do. I mean, I hope he doesn’t, but I think he’ll call it off. He’d have to.”
“It would be the smarter thing to do,” agreed Jo, “but honestly. I think he’ll do that buddy system thing he thought up, and when that all falls apart, whatever, right?”
“I don’t really want to do it this year, to be honest,” said Becky. “I don’t feel safe.”
“Well, he’s got a few days left to decide,” said Jo. “I guess we’ll see what happens.
* * * *
After lunch most of the kids went swimming. It was one of those heavy afternoons that was over a hundred degrees, and Dean spent most of the afternoon underwater, a lake monster gunning specifically for Sam. Sam always complained that Dean went after him the most, and it wasn’t even fair, even on days when Dean was ignoring him. So it was especially fun to actually be a giant pain and not let Sam swim freely for more than five minutes at a time.
“Knock it off, Dean!” Sam kicked away from him, purposely kicking him in the ribs. “It’s not even funny.”
“Eh, it kind of is,” laughed Jess.
“You’re gonna get it now,” Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Then replaced his snorkel and dove back under the surface.
It was quiet down here. Just kids’ legs, standing out stark white against he murky water. Seaweed tangled around Dean’s ankles, and itched at his toes, and he chose another target, deciding that was enough for Sam and Jess. For now. He’d be back for them after he pulled Ben under.
Ah, but Ben was too quick for him and Dean surfaced again. It was too hot to be anywhere else today, so everyone was in the water. Even Bobby. It made it harder to choose a victim, and harder to sneak between swimmers undetected, but all in all, that wasn’t a big deal. It was just one of those peaceful afternoons where everyone was splashing and having a good time.
Dean dove back under the water again and swam over to where Castiel was treading water. He had no idea if Castiel had noticed him or not, but whatever. He grabbed his swim trunks and pulled them down to his knees, then started palming at his junk under the water. He could hear Cas’ muffled shouting through the water, but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Castiel reached down and grabbed Dean by the hair, before ripping the goggles and snorkel from his head.
Keeping his hand right where he wanted it, on Castiel’s cock, Dean’s head popped up above the water.
“I’ve done it!” Castiel announced. “I’ve killed the lake monster! No need to worry, you can send the children back in the water. The lake monst-“
Leave lavish praise for the artwork!
Dean shut Castiel up by tickling his fingers against his balls. “Now don’t get ahead of yourself there Cas. You better make sure the monster’s really dead,” Dean grinned, then swam off, leaving Castiel to pull up his shorts before he lost them at the bottom of the lake.
That was the day that Ben didn’t come back.
* * * *
There were two options, basically. Either A) Ben was taken by the same person who took the children from Camp Chipmunk. It would fit the mystery assailant’s M.O., as Ben was only slightly older than the other children, and he disappeared apparently into thin air. Or B) John had gotten his dates mixed up and the Wendigo hunt was starting a few days early.
Bobby was trying to get a hold of John Winchester, dialing and redialing every couple minutes, but it just kept ringing before switching to voicemail. Finally he frowned, shoving the phone across the table. “Why don’t you try it,” he scowled at Dean. “He’s your father.”
“If we can’t contact John, we need to assume the worst,” said Rufus. “Give you guys fifteen more minutes, then I’m reporting him missing to the police.”
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” said Bobby. “Assume the worst, yes. But the local opinion of me is never exactly the greatest. Report a kid missing and they could just shut us down.”
“They lost three kids across the lake and I don’t see them getting shut down,” Rufus pointed out.
“Somehow the vibe over there’s different,” Bobby rolled his eyes. “You have better upkeep and make sure the place actually looks like a summer camp, somehow I think you get more of a pass.”
“Bullshit bunch of crock.”
“We still have to report him missing, Bobby,” said Ellen. “If we don’t and never find him, the situation will be worse.”
Dean tried dialing his dad for a third time, and gave up when the voicemail picked up again. “Listen Dad, it’s Dean. We need to know where you are and if you’re at camp yet. It’s important.”
“He probably won’t call back,” Dean sighed, hanging up.
“He never actually does,” said Bobby, looking at the ceiling. “Okay. I’m calling off the hunt. Kids are all staying inside tomorrow, I don’t care if it’s hundred and ten degrees, tomorrow’s a movie day. Dean, get in the truck. You and I are going out to scope the nearby properties again for any signs of anything. Rufus, you and Anna go out and double check the wards.”
“In the dark? Bobby.”
“I don’t want to take any chances, and I want to know what this is. If the wards are intact, then at this point we can know for sure it’s a human. And then I’ll report Ben missing. If they’ve been messed with, we might have a whole different situation on our hands.”
“Still hard to check ‘em in the dark.”
Bobby rolled his eyes, “Just check the damn wards, Rufus.” He turned to Dean, “Get your stuff; let’s go.”
Before they left he asked Ellen to stay with Dean’s kids in the Silver cabin for the night, and Jo to hang with the Devil’s Trap cabin. Bobby wasn’t leaving anyone alone.
It was a long night, driving around the lake and past “No trespassing” signs to peer through windows of houses and cabins. There was nothing suspicious to be found, even in the properties that were empty. An old, rundown mobile home, nothing. Two dilapidated barns? Nada.
Dean and Bobby rolled back into camp at well past one in the morning with no more information than when they’d left, except that whoever was responsible, he wasn’t staying in one of the obvious places around the lake.
Rufus and Anna were waiting for them by the main office. “Got some bad news,” Rufus started out. “Remember that wind storm a couple days ago?”
Dean nodded.
“Well turns out it took down a tree, which knocked out several of those wards, as well as a devil’s trap. So could be lots of things getting in here.”
Dean spotted Sam out of the corner of his eye, running down the hill from the Crossroads cabin in his pajamas, his bare feet slipping on the dewy grass.
“What are you doing Sam?”
“I saw the headlights. Did Castiel go with you guys?”
“What? No. He’s supposed to be back with you. You haven’t had an adult with you all night?”
Sam shook his head. “He never came back. We figured he was with you. But we’ve been taking shifts keeping a lookout for anything strange.”
“What happened to Castiel?” Dean asked, despite how obviously no one would know the answer. “Where’s Cas?” He surprised himself with how panicked he felt. Ben disappearing was terrible, but that kid could handle himself.
Castiel was different. He was stronger and more capable than Ben, Dean knew on principle, but at the same time the stupid guy made weird choices. And he didn’t always actually know he was stronger than most things, since he’d lost so much of his strength since becoming human.
“Let’s get inside, everyone,” said Bobby. “We’ll talk more when we’re less exposed.”
* * * *
It was almost two in the morning, but obviously no one was getting any sleep. The entire camp was crowded into the library, several of the older campers scouring over the Camp Chipmunk information again, while everyone else just waited to hear what else was going on.
“Cas getting grabbed breaks the pattern,” Dean pointed out. “Whatever it is, it isn’t just taking kids. It’s probably just taking whoever’s an easy target at the moment. Whoever’s alone and out in the open.”
“Our wards were up around the camp up until two days ago,” said Anna. “And until then, nothing happened to us. Whatever it was stayed over at Camp Chipmunk. Now that we’re open to attack, our people are going missing.”
Dean nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it’s a who anymore Bobby. We have to assume that it’s a thing, at this point.”
“I think it’s a Wendigo,” said Sam, seriously. At least half the room burst out laughing.
“Sam, just because the camp is called Camp Wendigo, doesn’t mean that we’re getting attacked by an actual Wendigo,” said Gwen, like she was talking to a very small child.
“It’s not just because of the name of the camp,” Sam said, staring her down. “It’s the speed with which the kids across the lake disappeared. Something that can move fast, very fast, had to have taken them. And get this… There was a series of bear maulings about fifty miles from here. That was seventeen years ago. That same year? Five missing persons cases that went unsolved.”
“Fifty miles from here,” said Jo. “You think it moved?”
“There’s a housing development there now.”
“When did you find all this out, Sam?” asked Bobby.
“Back a few days ago, when I asked you why you named the place Camp Wendigo. I could tell you were all gonna laugh me outta the room, so I figured I wouldn’t bother. Until now. Now, with the wards gone and everything…”
“Well,” said Jo, “At least we’ve all got a lot of practice taking one of these fuckers out, right?”
Everyone looked around solemnly, contemplating their own mortality. “Right. If you want to pretend like shooting my dad with a specific color of paintball, then sending up a flare, then managing to hit him again with another paintball, is the same thing that’s going to kill an actual Wendigo, good luck,” said Dean.
He looked over at Sammy. Little Sammy, who could follow a pattern better than Dean could, and had taken out their dad the Wendigo for two years running. But this was different.
“Okay, everyone. I know we’re wired and no one’s going to be able to sleep,” said Bobby, “But no one, no one, is to go out after dark. No one goes anywhere alone, even in daylight. Everyone under the age of sixteen is indoors tomorrow. I don’t care if it’s the worst summer ever for you, tomorrow is a movie day. Ellen and Uriel will stay here. Everyone else, we’re gonna find those kids. But tomorrow.”
“So we’re just gonna sit here?” balked Gwen.
“Never said you couldn’t start movie day early,” said Bobby. “Do whatever you want, but stay indoors,” He poked her in the chest to make his point. “Get some rest Gwen. We’re going Wendigo hunting.”
Gwen held her arms out in question. “I’m fifteen.”
* * * *
Bobby split the camp into teams. “Stay with your team,” he reminded, giving Rufus an especially stern look, then passed out walkie talkies. “We’re on channel two.”
It could be safely assumed that the Wendigo was staying outside the camp, so no time was going to be wasted by staying within the confines of Camp Wendigo. Dean and Jo were a team, and were headed west, in the direction of the downed tree that had taken out the wards.
Meanwhile Anna and Ash had gone with Bobby, and Gwen had gone with Rufus. She pointed out again that she was only fifteen, to which Bobby said, “Sixteen is an arbitrary line, but it’s mostly relevant. I’m bringing people who are smart and capable. End of story.”
Ronald, who actually was sixteen, was stuck staying behind. “Worst. Wendigo hunt. Ever,” he complained.
The sun was just barely rising over the lake, but it was light enough, and they set off.
“So,” said Jo, as she and Dean walked down the main path toward the edge of camp. “How’s things with you can Cas?”
“You mean the Cas who’s missing?” Dean frowned. They were moving quickly enough that it was just a little difficult to talk.
“Yeah, sorry. So good aside from that bit?”
Dean met her with silence.
“You know, he’s probably not dead. You know Wendigoes, how they like to play with their food.”
“You’re kind of being not awesome, Jo.”
“You really like him, huh?”
It was way too early for Dean to have this conversation, or respond appropriately. “Yes, Jo, damnit. Yes I like him. I don’t understand what he sees in me, but he sees something and it makes me feel weird, like in a good way. And he’s sweet and he cares about everyone. And he’s been taking care of Sammy all summer. And when it’s just me and him together we can both be ourselves. He doesn’t know how to judge me negatively. Of course I like him.”
“We’ll find him, Dean,” she turned to look back at him, before ducking off the trail, heading for the quickest way out of camp. “Seriously.”
“I know. And we’re gonna find Ben and those kids too.”
Jo bit her lip. “I’m worried about the other kids.”
“Ben can probably take a Wendigo out on his own,” said Dean.
“I know. The boy though, he’s been gone for awhile.”
Dean nodded but didn’t say anything. It was a grim thought. Some sweet little boy who was on his own, because like Sammy, he didn’t always get along with the rest of the kids. He was probably wandering through the woods, making the best of a lonely summer day, when the thing pulled him up into the tree by that cute mop of hair he had.
No one saw much of him at camp while he was there, and no one might ever see him again. Dean sped up his pace, angry that they hadn’t realized what it was earlier. Even when all signs had pointed to the incident not being their kind of case-it didn’t matter when people were dying.
They didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, but it could be pretty much anything. Anywhere where something could be living, and where it could store its food. Where it could store the kids and Castiel. So naturally occurring caves, a cluster of fallen trees arranged like a shelter, a deer-hunting stand that had been embellished upon.
“Hey you guys, over here!” Rufus shouted from somewhere over the hill rise behind them.
Jo turned to yell back to him, but Dean grabbed her. “Wait. Voices over walkie, only. Remember?”
Jo’s eyes grew wide. “Right,” she whispered, and pulled her knife from her pocket. The Wendigo was following them.
“We must be getting close,” Dean whispered. “Hand me the walkie.”
Jo plopped it into his hand, and Dean took a deep breath. “This is Dean. Jo and I are about two miles west of the camp; Wendigo’s on our ass.”
Seconds later Ash’s voice crackled over, “You guys all right?”
“For now. Proceeding with caution.”
Dean didn’t want to say exactly how scared he felt. Wendigoes were strong, near perfect killers. It could sneak up on them and kill them before they even noticed. Now they were most likely closing in on its lair, and it knew it. It had the upper hand, because it knew exactly where they were.
All they had were their knives, as well as aerosol cans and lighters. Dean really felt like they were just bumbling around in the woods, waiting to get ripped apart.
“We must be close,” Dean whispered. “So how can we be more methodical in our search?”
Jo just looked at him like, “I don’t know.” The pair moved on as silently as they could, without looking like they were scared, or moving in any special way. Every bird call, or scamper of a squirrel across the branches above them, had them on edge.
“It’s gonna know we know, if we keep jumping like this,” said Jo.
“It already knows we know. We had to call in where we were on the walkie, but I bet it heard us. Wendigo is smart, and it has inhuman senses. We’re lucky if it wasn’t listening in.”
Another squirrel rustled the leaves overhead, and instead of jumping in his skin again, Dean forced himself to look up and watch it bounce through the branches until he couldn’t see it anymore. “C’mon, let’s keep heading toward where there’s a stream over here.”
Jo nodded.
They were both slammed into the ground, heads smashing into the earth. Then it was lights out.
* * * *
Dean didn’t know how long he’d been out, but Jo was already awake and working on setting herself free from the ropes around her ankles when he came to. They were in some sort of cave, but it was more like a den. It had dirt walls and ceiling, and was almost like the Wendigo had carved it out itself. He was sitting on the dirt floor with his ankles tied together, and his arms tied behind his back and around a root system for a large tree.
It was dark, but Dean could make out that there were others in the den. “Welcome back, Dean,” Ben said in his snarkiest voice. “Need help getting free?”
“Yeah, that’d be nice. How’d you get free?”
“Patience. Also the Wendigo didn’t realize he’d set me on a rock. Could feel the thing digging into my ass, and once I managed to get my legs under me, I kicked it to where I could grab it. And this isn’t very interesting.” He pulled out his knife and cut Dean free.
“How long have you been able to get out? Why are you still here?”
“I cut the girls free, and told them to hide. Back there,” he pointed to a small tunnel hidden back in the shadows. When Dean looked closely he could see two sets of eyes peering back at him. “I thought about telling them to run for it, but figured they’d be caught again quick. Decided to wait for back up. Then Castiel showed up, but clearly not on purpose.”
“Where’s Cas now?” Dean asked.
“He left. Went looking for the Wendigo.”
“He what? Like he’s going to fight the Wendigo on his own?”
“No, he’s following it. Jackie and Kyla said they never saw the other boy. We thought there might be another lair somewhere. Castiel went to see if he could find it.”
Jo shook her head, while Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, he probably did find it. When the goddamn Wendigo found him again and brought him there. Jesus Cas, how are you so stupid?”
As if on cue, a voice crackled in on the walkie talkie. “We found the Wendigo’s lair,” said Bobby. “It’s in a cellar of a house that’s fallen down into its foundations. Can’t see where it is until you get right up to it. The house is pretty much gone, but the cellar’s intact.”
“Bobby,” Jo called, “Thing’s got two lairs. Dean and I got taken.”
“What? Are you hurt?”
“No. We have Ben and the girls. No sign of the Wendigo.”
“Ask him if Cas is there,” said Dean.
Jo looked at him like she was about to tease him, but resigned. “Is Cas there? Or the other little boy?”
There was no response.
“Shit,” said Dean. “It’s there. We can go get it before it gets back.”
Jo nodded. “You girls stay there. It’s bigger than a man and can’t fit down the tunnel. You’re safe as long as you stay hidden. C’mon, let’s go.”
“Ben,” said Dean. “You know what way Cas went. Lead the way.”
Ben nodded and carefully they dug themselves out of the den, and ran off through the trees.
* * * *
Clearly the Wendigo had no idea it was being watched, as it was simply standing in the middle of the clearing where the old house used to be, like it was contemplating its next move. It thought it had a lot of things running fine, and didn’t seem worried about hunters at all. It looked vaguely wolf-like, covered in a layer of fur that reminded Dean of a timber wolf, but it still stood in a human posture. Its legs are arms still facing in a human direction. But the Wendigo’s nose was turned into a grotesque shape, and its eyes glowed a deep orange color, like the last embers of a fire about to go out. Its teeth were the most wolf-like thing about it. They were long and vicious, and could no longer fit inside its mouth. Wolf fangs, trying to exist on a mockery of a human face.
Great, thought Dean.
“You think we can take ‘im? I think we can take ‘im,” Claire’s voice whispered from behind him.
Wait, what? Claire? He looked down, and she grinned up at him, putting her finger in front of her lips to shush him. Then she made to look all around the clearing.
And there they were. Everyone from the camp, hidden behind the underbrush, only visible if you were really looking for them, all of them armed with a lighter and an aerosol can of bug spray. They were looking to him, waiting for a signal.
Dean took up his lighter and thumbed the ignition for a second before nodding, and lighting it. Everyone surrounding him copied.
The Wendigo looked up, hearing the clicks of thirty lighters all at once, surrounding him in all directions.
“GO!” Dean yelled, and ran for the Wendigo, bug spray at the ready so when he got with in several feet he stopped and sprayed.
The Wendigo was surrounded by the flames from all sides, nowhere to go, as his skin blackened in front of them. It started to lash out, but every time it did, it couldn’t get close enough, more of the fire getting in the way.
Dean looked over and caught Sammy’s eye, nodding at him. He was proud of the kid. He’s the one who figured all this out. And he could tell Sam got that, because he smiled back at Dean, before turning back to the Wendigo and continuing to flame its ass.
Quickly, the flames began to die out from the cans, but the Wendigo still burned in front of them.
“Whoa,” said Ronald. “I don’t know how you guys pulled these effects off, but this is fantastic!”
The Wendigo continued to moan and burn. It wasn’t dead yet.
“It’s cool,” said Rufus. “I’ve got lighter fluid.” He poured out the whole container on the dying creature. “Don’t suppose anyone brought marshmallows.”
“Kinda feel bad for the poor thing,” said Krissy. “I mean, that it couldn’t die more quickly.”
“Are you kidding?” said Ben. “That thing tried to eat me.”
“And all of Camp Wendigo came together to save the day!” said Claire.
Anna looked down at her. “I think it’s safe to say, that this has officially been the best summer ever!”
“BEST SUMMER EVER!” the kids all yelled, and started hugging each other.
* * * *
Dean left the party, to go check out the cellar. Bobby was unconscious and tied up at the bottom of the ladder, but Dean could see his stomach moving. “Hey Bobby, you all right?”
No response, but Dean was certain he’d be fine. It was dark in the cellar, so Dean lit his lighter again, and peered around for any other signs of life. He rounded a corner when he saw them.
The little boy, Brandon, was in rough shape. Dean couldn’t quite tell if he was alive. Dirt streaked his face, and he was thin. Really thin. Of course he’d been missing a long time. “Hey, hey Brandon,” Dean patted his cheeks.
His eyes opened slowly, a weak moan escaping his cracked lips. But he was alive. He’d probably have to spend a few weeks in the hospital, but he was alive. “Oh, Brandon! You stupid kid, you’re alive!” Dean grinned at him, and mussed up his hair.
“Dean?”
The voice came from behind him, and there was Cas. His t-shirt ripped almost in half, and wearing his pajama bottoms, there was Cas. Blood smeared across his face, mixed with dirt, and weariness from not having slept in a day. He looked terrible, but he’d never looked more wonderful in all his life.
Or at least not all his life since Dean had known him. “Cas,” Dean gasped, the tightness he’d been ignoring in his chest releasing, and without even noticing he was on his feet and scooping himself around him.
“You’re alive. Everyone’s alive. Cas, you stupid asshole, how’d you even get yourself taken by a Wendigo anyway,” Dean was punching him on the shoulder. “After the entire apocalypse and you’re just gonna get yourself ki-“
Castiel shut Dean up, closing his lips over Dean’s, and humming into his mouth. “We all lived, Dean.”
And it really was the best summer ever.
The End.