Into the Woods - Part 3
Master Post - Part 2
Sam had risen long before the sun had tried and failed to fight its way through the thick, grey clouds. The heavily filtered morning light wasn’t even enough to dissipate the fog that hung high above in the tops of the trees. It wasn’t raining but it looked like it could start at any moment. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck.
Rain or no rain, the air was saturated. His jeans, his hair, and even the tent that his brother was still sprawled out inside of, just felt wet. At least it was something different. The weird sensation of feeling so moist without actually being wet was just one more thing to pull his focus from the reason he had gotten up so early.
It was one thing to hide nightmares from Dean when his deep-sleeping brother was a bed over or when there was the distractions of the road and the rumbling of the Impala’s engine to disguise subtle sounds. It was a completely different thing when Dean was lying on top of him.
Here, there was just the wind, creaking of the trees and water running over rocks in the nearby stream. While they were out of sight, he knew there were other campers not far off that were probably already on edge without listening to him call out in the darkness.
His brother hadn’t noticed him leaving the tent, at least not consciously. Dean had mumbled some drowsy comment about making sure the fire was out, but his eyes had never opened. It was probably a good thing considering that he had seen Dean hide a knife under his makeshift pillow and knew the gun was still tucked at his side. The more time he spent around his brother, the more skeptical he was that Dean was as at ease about this lifestyle as he claimed to be.
Sam sat on the picnic table to quietly contemplate everything. The problem was that he couldn’t decide whether he was trying to remember or forget. Looking at the stunning wilderness surrounding him in the still morning, it was hard to not think about how much Jess would have loved it.
He was pulled from his thoughts of the imaginary day they’d never have when he heard a rustling. Soon after, cursing came from inside the tent that wasn’t tall enough to sit up in. Dean grumbled as he unzipped the door and crawled out.
There was concern in his still sleepy eyes before Dean saw him. Apparently appeased that Sam was alive, Dean went on to griping.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Dean stiffly stood, stretching his arms over his head before running a hand over his rumpled hair. “Two person tent my ass. A man should never have to sleep that close to his brother.”
“At least you didn’t have to bend your knees or have someone kicking you in the ribs all night.”
“That was my ribs your bony damn knees were bent into and don’t you even try to put this on me. This was your stupid ass plan and, for the record, I did have to smell you.”
“You’re a little ripe yourself there, Dean.”
“No problem. I’ll just go take a shower...oh wait. There’s no freakin’ running water!”
Sam rolled his eyes. He knew Dean couldn’t care less about running water. Half the places they'd grown up in had barely had running water and Dean had never complained then.
“And you say I’m the girl. Go jump in the river.”
“You go jump in the river,” Dean said. “Speaking of girls, why didn’t I get to share a tent with one?”
“Because you really do reek. There are bathrooms here,” Sam added as he watched Dean turn towards a tree.
“Those aren’t bathrooms. I’m not gonna hike to piss in some rank hole in the ground when there’s a perfectly nice tree right here. Go find me some coffee.”
Sam turned back towards his brother when he heard him zip up. “There is no coffee, Dean.”
“That other campground down the road had motor homes.”
“So?”
Dean crouched in to the tent to grab his jacket. “So let’s go interview them.”
“So you can get free coffee?”
“And breakfast.”
“There haven’t been any attacks in that area,” Sam said. “We’re not going to raid the motor home of some poor campers who wouldn’t even know anything about the case.”
“Screw the case. I want breakfast.”
“We brought breakfast,” Sam reminded him as he pulled the granola from his bag.
Dean’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s not even food. I’d take K-rations over that flake-shaped cardboard any day.”
“We don’t have any rations because you bought candy.”
“Damn straight. I’m not sharing it with you either and you can get your own damn beer.”
Dean crawled back into the tent. Sam rolled his eyes at the dirty seat of Dean’s worn jeans that squirmed in the tent’s doorway while he dug through his duffle. Dean backed out with a bottle of beer in one hand and a bag of Snickers in the other.
Dean cracked his neck and stomped over to settle on the picnic table facing away from him. Sam wasn’t sure how many candy bars Dean had gone through before his brother looked over his shoulder at him, but he was pretty sure that Dean had already finished the beer.
“So is my BO why you snuck out of the tent at the butt crack of midnight?”
Sam sighed. He thought he was going to be able to avoid this conversation. “We didn’t go to bed until after midnight and I didn’t get up until morning.”
“It’s barely morning now,” Dean yawned.
Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s 8:30.”
“My point exactly. So what do you say we...”
Dean fell silent at the sound of approaching footsteps. Sam nodded as his brother shot him a look to confirm that he’d heard it, too. Someone was approaching their site. He shook his head when he saw his brother reaching behind his back for his gun.
Their site might be set apart from the rest, but there was no reason one of the other campers wouldn’t wander this way on a morning hike. He saw his brother’s tensed shoulders relax when an aging park ranger came into view. Dean shoved his empty beer bottle into the Snicker’s bag and set it aside on the bench.
The older man gave them a warm smile and a wave as he approached. “Good morning, boys.”
“Morning, ranger,” Dean said.
His tone was casual as he hopped off the table with no sign that a moment ago, he had been ready to open fire.
“Are you boys planning on heading out further into the backcountry?”
“Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”
“I just want to make you aware that we’ve had some attacks in this area of the park. Nothing to be alarmed about, but we’re asking everyone to stay alert and take proper precautions.”
“Precautions against what?” Sam asked.
“Some large predatory animal. We’re not exactly sure on the species yet. Could be a cougar or a grizz, but either way just make noise as you’re hiking and be careful not to sneak up on anything. You’ll be just fine.”
“I thought there weren’t any records of grizzly bears existing in this area,” Sam said.
The ranger nodded as he scratched his beard. “That’s right, and we’re not sure about this, but one may have wandered in. They get real hungry this time of year coming out of hibernation. They tend to avoid humans and aren’t typically a threat, but keep alert just to be safe. How long are you boys planning on staying out, anyway?”
“We’re just on a short hunt,” Dean said.
Sam jabbed him in the side with his elbow. At Dean’s confused look, Sam nodded towards the ranger. It didn’t help. Dean remained oblivious.
The ranger looked questioningly between them, but his tone was still polite. “You boys do realize there’s no hunting allowed within the park boundaries?”
Dean glanced to Sam with an innocent shrug. Of course Dean hadn’t actually bothered to listen to anything he’d told him about the park rules.
“Yeah...of course,” Dean said. “We’re just hunting for Bigfoot.”
“Ah, I see.” The ranger chuckled. “You’re more of them.”
“More of who?” Sam asked before he had a chance to smack Dean.
“We’ve been inundated with Bigfoot hunters ever since the reports got out.”
“What about you?” Dean asked. “Seen any signs of Bigfoot?”
Even Sam couldn’t tell whether Dean’s question was sincere or sarcastic. The ranger smiled before his gaze moved past them into the woods that surrounded them.
“All my life I’ve lived here and I’ve never seen anything of the sort.” The man shrugged as he focused back on Dean. “But just between you me, there’s a lot of isolated terrain out here and very few people to see it. Just about anything could be living out in those mountains.”
~~~
A morning of interviewing campers had gotten Dean a cup of coffee, a couple of fried eggs, three strips of bacon and five phone numbers. All in all, not bad, but they’d come up with a heaping load of nothing as far as information on this supposed hunt of Sam’s.
They'd gotten everything from people telling them that they were total whackos to telling them that Bigfoot was an alien in disguise. Sam had just managed to pull him out before the burly man in a pink Hawaiian shirt had taken serious offense to Dean’s questioning of what kind of dumb ass alien would choose a giant ape as a cover ID.
Sam had wanted to pack up the tent and head out into the backcountry to check on some of the backpackers. Dean had just wanted to hit the road.
They’d compromised. Sort of. Or maybe Dean had lost three rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors and then bitched about it until Sam had caved and agreed to just make it a day hike. It would be just long enough to finally prove how gullible Sam was.
Now they were standing in the middle of the woods staring at a bunch of giant trees that all looked the same.
“You’re lost,” Sam said.
“Am not. We’re going…” Dean pointed straight ahead. “This way.”
“Is that north?”
“How the hell should I know? I haven’t seen the sun for days and there’s moss on every side of the trees here. I think it’s even growing in your hair.”
Sam didn’t respond, just glared as Dean unwrapped another candy bar. He’d offered Sam some only to get a lecture on the evils of soybeans. Dean sloppily shoved the wrapper into his pocket, which was too full to hold it. The wrapper fluttered to the ground.
“This is a national park, Dean, you think you could maybe keep your candy wrappers in your pocket?”
“Okay, Ranger Rick…”
Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was just pissed about not getting his way or if the lack of sleep was finally catching up with his brother. Either way, Dean was half tempted to give Sam the fight he was looking for.
He glanced at Sam who was wearing a chastising face, which would’ve made Dad proud, while waving around the stupid wrapper. No way in hell all that impatience was about accidental littering. Dean snatched the wrapper back and made a show of burying it deep in his jacket pocket.
“Can we talk about it now?” Dean asked, turning around to fully face his brother. “And if you say ‘about what?’, so help me, Sammy, I’m gonna slug you.”
“It’s Sam and there’s nothing to talk about, Dean. I’m-”
“’Fine’ is also a slugging offense,” Dean warned.
“So says the king of ‘fine’.”
“Yeah, whatever, just means I know what kind of crap qualifies for fine,” Dean replied around a mouthful of chocolate. “You don’t think I can’t see what’s happening?”
“Nothing’s happening and don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Sam asked with a nod towards the candy bar. “You’ve basically had nothing but sugar and beer since we got out here yesterday.”
“So? It’s not my fault there aren’t any diners out here.”
“Is this how you ate while I was gone?”
“This is how I’ve eaten since...” The words since Mom were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down. “Nothing’s changed.”
Nothing had changed except for everything. It didn’t matter. Dean was going to put this sorry family back together if it was the last thing he did.
“All that studying and lettuce just rotted your brain,” Dean continued. “You know, maybe if you’d stuck around you could've taught me the value of a balanced diet.”
“I’m sorry.”
Dean growled, turning his back and walking away. “Oh, don’t start that.”
“Start what?” Sam asked.
“You know what!” Dean spun back around. “Apologizing for crap you’re not even sorry for.”
“Dean, I am sorry.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re sorry Jess died, which wasn’t your damn fault, and you’re sorry Dad’s missing, which also isn’t your fault.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Nothing! Everything.” Dean scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’m just worried about you, man. Like why the hell are we even out here?”
Sam stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and stared at him. His expression was unreadable, but the tension was clear in his shoulders.
“What?” Dean asked.
“What do you want me to be sorry for?”
“I don’t want you to be sorry for anything that you’re sorry for because none of it was your fault. That’s the whole damn point.”
“You’re still mad I left at all.”
Dean threw his hand up, kicking at a rock stuck in the muck of the trail. “I’m not mad. I’m not,” Dean insisted when Sam remained silent. “Just drop it.”
“I needed to live my own life. I needed to get away from Dad, but it was never about you, Dean.”
Dean laughed dryly, nodding his head as he stared at his scuffed up boots. “Yeah. I noticed. That’s just...well, you got your wish. Dad’s a non-issue.”
“I never wanted this,” Sam said.
“I know, Sam.” Dean chewed on his lip before waving Sam off. “Just forget it.”
“Dean...”
“I said forget it!”
Sam sighed. He stepped away, pacing the trail before stopping back beside Dean. He motioned to the path ahead. “We’re at the trail fork. I think the last attack was around this area.”
“Super. So we’re looking for some giant...what the hell?”
“What?”
Dean nodded to a set of large, recently made tracks that were deeply embedded in the mud at the side of the trail. Sam crouched down and examined them before looking back up at him.
“Dean, these are real.”
“Did you forget everything we learned while you were away? They don’t even look real. They’re...big.”
“Look at the weight distribution pattern at the ball of the foot and the way the...”
“See, that’s just what I mean," Dean said. "You learned all this stuff that’s just a bunch of crap. It all makes sense in a book but out here in the real world you try following those theories and you end up running after imaginary monsters. Dad taught us everything we needed to know about tracking. Rule number one, if you find a Bigfoot print - it’s freakin’ bogus! If we follow these tracks were gonna end up in some kid’s tent.”
“Only one way to find out,” Sam said before continuing down the trail.
“Dude, this is nuts...you get that we’re wandering around the woods looking for Bigfoot, right? Sam?” His brother didn’t even look back. “Man, I don’t believe this! You’re gonna owe me so much pie,” Dean growled as he jogged to catch up.
They didn’t make it much further through the dense forest before the sound of someone else pushing through the brush hit Dean’s ears. His hand shot up, indicating for Sam to stop where he was. They stood frozen as Dean listened, pointing in the direction of the cracking limbs.
Sam nodded and followed closely behind him as he moved towards a clearing. Dean didn’t even bother reaching for his gun as they approached the edge of the trees. That was until the stream came into view.
Dean jerked to a stop and his jaw sagged in disbelief. “Holy crap.”
“What?” Sam whispered anxiously as he came up behind Dean.
Bigfoot was kneeling beside the stream drinking. It wasn’t some dude in a monkey suit knocking back a beer. It was a giant gorilla thing lapping up water. Dean stared for another half second before pulling his gun, switching off the safety and leveling the pistol at the target.
He’d seen enough, but just as his finger was about to squeeze the trigger, a hand reached around from behind him and grabbed his wrist. Dean instinctively swung around, ready to take on the new target only to realize that it was his stupid little brother.
“What the hell?” Dean hissed at him. “Don’t you ever grab my gun.” He smacked Sam on the back of his head. “You pull crap like that and I’m gonna end up shooting you.”
“Just wait,” Sam urged.
With a frustrated sigh Dean glared at his brother who had officially lost his mind. “Wait for what? I got a clear shot.”
“We don’t know what it is.”
“Yeah, we do, Sam. It’s Bigfoot.”
“I know, I mean...this could just be an endangered species.”
“Seriously?” Dean whispered back. “What are you freakin’ Jane Goodall now? Dude, it’s a monster.”
“It could be defending its territory.”
“Oh hell, in that case let’s let it eat all the campers it wants.”
“We don’t even know if this is what’s killing them,” Sam said. “The ranger could be right about the grizzly. You’re the one who said it couldn’t be Bigfoot.”
“That was before I was staring at him! Sightings, tracks and...oh, monster. I think it’s pretty damn straight forward. We’re hunters. Making monsters endangered species is pretty much what we do.”
The hushed argument came to a quick end when the giant at the stream’s edge reared up to its full height. The sheer size and ease of movement only confirmed that this wasn't a human in a costume. Even from where they hunkered down in the brush, Dean could see the bulging muscles rippling beneath the shaggy fur.
“Damn, it’s even taller than you, Sasquatch,” Dean said.
He only caught a moment of Sam's glare before the beast’s nostrils flared. It swung its head, eyes honing in on them from beneath its massive brow. It let loose a roar forceful enough that Dean could feel the rumble reverberate in his chest. Dean got to his feet, taking a step back, keeping himself between Sam and the monster as its sharpened teeth snapped in their direction.
“Can I shoot it now?”
Dean's tone was thick with sarcasm, his gun already aimed. He got off two rapid shots as Bigfoot charged towards them. At least one of the bullets solidly hit the thing, but the monster only howled and kept right on coming, closing ground fast.
Dean slapped Sam’s shoulder, silently telling him to run. He let his brother take up the lead, firing one more shot before hauling ass off the trail and into the dense vegetation.
Continue to Chapter 4