DCBB: Welcome To Camp Wendigo (part 1)
Title: Welcome To Camp Wendigo
Author: sockkiah
Artist: psycocatgirl
Fandom/Genre: SPN AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, mentions of Sam/Jess
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 25,290
Summary: A send up of cheesy summer camp movies, Dean and Sam have spent most of their childhood summers at Camp Wendigo, Bobby's summer camp for aspiring hunters and the children of hunters. Now nineteen, it's Dean's first year as a counselor, but he's not the only new staff member at the camp. Bobby's also hired on some fallen angels after the recently averted apocalypse. At first the angels seem to do nothing but get in the way of Dean's summer plans, and Dean doesn't get along. When kids from the camp across the lake start to go missing, can Camp Wendigo come together and save the day?
Dean had been at the bus stop for at least a half hour. Sweat was beading across his forehead and soaking into the collar at the back of his neck. He could tell it was going to be hot and sticky and an all around miserable day to be stuck on a bus for three hours. Despite all Dean’s years at Camp Wendigo, he’d never actually ridden the camp bus before, but he’d been carefully informed that there was no air conditioner and that the children were not allowed to have any knives on their person.
Knives and weapons would be returned when the children arrived to camp.
Bobby never really thought that he’d be spending much, if any, of his adult life with children. And then there were John’s boys.
Then just as Dean was getting to the age where he was often unsupervised for long stints and becoming especially adept at getting himself into trouble-the kind of trouble only the children of hunters got into, little Sammy was making noises about wanting to attend some sort of Kindergarten soccer camp. So Bobby, being resourceful as he ever was, got an idea that would hopefully keep Dean alive for at least another year, and at the same time appease Sam’s wishes for summer camp. At age five, Sam would be the youngest ever to attend Bobby Singer’s Camp Wendigo for young hunters. Everyone else had to be at least eight.
As it turned out, the camp was a niche in the hunter world that needed filling. Sam and Dean weren’t the only children of hunters who needed something to do during the summer.
By now it was Dean’s ninth summer at Camp Wendigo. Bobby had finally made him a counselor after two years as a junior counselor. Usually he would’ve gotten the promotion after one year, given how long he’d attended the camp, and that eighteen year olds were supposed to be counselors and not junior counselors, but Bobby had some misgivings about Dean’s ability to be responsible for seven-plus eight year olds, or whatever the fuck. Rufus thought it was some bullshit too, and towards the end of last summer he, Dean, and Jo hatched a plan to blow up a bunch of shit behind the “arts & crafts” shed… Which just so happened to be adjacent to the counselors’ lounge and storage area.
Long story short, Bobby wound up having to hire a bunch of new staff this summer. It was hilarious. Especially the part where Ellen realized that Jo was partially responsible for the whole mess. “Joanna Beth Harville! If you think you’ll be doing anything fun for the next six months, you are sorely mistaken!” Dean refrained from telling her how the majority of the plan had come from Jo’s brain in the first place, despite how much entertainment that would’ve been. He hoped Jo was grateful for his sacrifice.
Ellen was the nurse at Camp Wendigo, but easily the strictest adult on the premises. Probably because she was the one who had to deal with the consequences of everyone else’s irresponsibility, and patch up the injuries. She was also responsible for the no weapons on the bus rule.
Back when the camp was only a few years old, apparently some kid had cut himself open with his dad’s hunting knife when the bus went over a bump. Ellen hadn’t been present to give any first aid for another hour and fifteen minutes, until the bus arrived at camp. The kid had lost so much blood by then that they’d needed to take him to the hospital. Hence Dean’s current post, just around the block from the Greyhound station.
The first to arrive at the bus stop was Ronald Reznik, who was sixteen and had been attending the camp almost as long as Dean had. He was one of several non-hunter campers who were convinced the whole thing was a really intense role-playing experience. Dean wondered why Bobby allowed them, but he explained they did not receive a “hunter’s discount” and their money was basically what kept the camp open and operating.
Dean and Ronald chatted for a bit. “Dude, I love you man! No one’s even here yet and you’re already in character!”
Dean rolled his eyes and soon other campers began filtering in, lugging duffel bags up to his sunny patch of sidewalk. Dean has a worn-looking, canvas backpack for the kids to put their weapons in. He didn’t have to say anything to the veteran campers who already knew the drill. Gwen shot him a death glare before dropping at least four knives and a shotgun into the bag. “A gun, Gwen? Really?” Dean had no idea if this was a common occurrence or not, but it’s not like the camp wasn’t stocked with weapons anyway. Most of the kids just had knives that their parents wanted them to keep on them.
“Can’t ever bee too careful,” she smirked. Then, as Dean was distracted by the sea-foam green bus pulling up, she elbowed him in the gut for good measure.
Dean kicked at her shin. “I’m a counselor now Gwen. Quit… violence. You can’t just hit people.”
“Very authoritative,” she said, and climbed aboard the bus, leaving Dean searching for a one liner when Ash showed up, claiming no items of interest for Dean’s bag of goodies. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, clad only in a pair of dirty jeans cut off at the knees, and a trucker hat that looked too big for his mulleted head.
Some of the newbies looked like they thought they were in trouble for having anything until an older camper came along and reassured them they’d get their stuff back once they arrived.
“Did you forget to mention that, Dean?” Ronald shouted out the window from the back of the bus.
“Shut it, Ronald! I never rode the bus before.” Which apparently wasn’t a solid defense in any way, as everyone howled with laughter. The back of Dean’s neck burned, but he kept a straight face, and looked the next camper down.
“Wait, you guys actually brought weapons to this thing?” the kid asked. He was one of the smallest guys and said his name was Harry.
“You know what’s out there,” said the blonde girl behind him. She looked way too young to be there, but set an excellent looking, silver blade into the pack. “Mom had it specially made after my uncle disappeared. Not that it would do any good against 99% of the things I’ve come across.”
Dean nodded and watched her get on the sweltering bus with a swagger that was 100% faked. Except perhaps the glare she set on the bus driver.
Whoever the driver was, she was one of Bobby’s new hires and she was insanely gorgeous. Long red hair that she’d pulled off her neck into a bouncy ponytail, and a light pink tank top left pale shoulders glowing in the over bright sun. And her eyes were huge. Dean felt like he could drown in them.
“Hey Dean! I’m Anna. Everyone all aboard?”
Dean stopped staring at her for half a second and managed to check his list. “Uh yeah. Everyone checked off on my list. Yours?”
Anna looked at her clipboard to double check. “Yep, everyone’s accounted for. Now get on this bus, Winchester. It’s gonna be a long, miserable ride.”
Anna wasn’t wrong. Only a minimal breezed caught through the bus windows, and all the younger kids kept complaining they had to pee. When Anna eventually pulled over by a patch of trees, and pointed the boys to one bush and the girls to another, Dean was able to pick out the real hunters from the role players. Harry, Ed and Maggie were clearly here to play a game. “You people never heard of a rest stop?”
But Claire didn’t even hear them, as she’d already followed Krissy over to the girls’ side. Dean still couldn’t quite believe how young she was. There was no way she was eight, but whatever, he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Bobby had promised him that he could be in charge of the group of 12-14 year olds, which would place him hanging out with Sammy all summer. Which had never really happened before, their age difference getting in the way, and had always been the worst part of summer, if Dean was being honest with himself. By the end of camp he was always ready to go back to seeing so much of his brother that he was sick of his face.
The bus roared past a falling down sign that read Camp Wendigo, and Anna stopped the bus with a screech in the middle of the main field, in the middle of camp. Everyone ditched their belongings, unstuck their sweaty legs from the seats, and piled off the bus as quickly as possible. Half the kids ran for the mess hall, which had a hose attached to the side that they wanted to take a drink off of, while the other half ran in all directions, ready to explore new territory, or see what had changed since last year.
Dean breathed deeply, basking in all the smells and sounds. It was strange, but three years out, and the ambiance still felt the same, even though he wasn’t here as a camper anymore. So many summers he’d sat in Bobby’s office, kicking the side of his desk impatiently while Bobby read up on some kind of monster. And then when the bus finally arrived, Dean would run out to meet them, running through the trees, and down to the lake. Kicking off socks and shoes and wading in with his clothes still on, then running back up barefoot and dripping along the other path.
Realistically, Dean could’ve spent the last whole day or so running through the camp, testing out any new equipment, without anyone else to bother him, but the energy and excitement of everyone exploring all at once was something special. Something Dean wanted to save and have with everyone else. So he waited. And every summer, he and Sam were just like every other kid in camp. They were just normal kids. The kids who didn’t hunt monsters were the weird ones.
Dean wanted to go down to the lake now, but they had to unload the bus. Two other counselors came over the help. A big, black guy who was way too over dressed for camp, and a smaller guy with spiked up hair. Dean didn’t pay them much mind; he’d have plenty of time to meet them later. He finished pulling everyone’s luggage off the bus, before heading over to the mess hall to get a drink from the hose himself.
Twenty minutes later, and suddenly Dean was fully regretting the awesome explosions of last summer. Granted, he’d almost certainly still be a junior counselor if they hadn’t pulled that off, but then, Bobby wouldn’t have needed to hire the apparent bunch of weirdos Dean was now stuck spending summer with.
The spiky haired guy was carrying Dean’s duffle for him, headed in the wrong direction, and acting like a smug asshole, in Dean’s opinion. “No seriously, I can carry my own shit. In fact, I even know what cabin it’s supposed to go to. I’m staying in the Crossroads Cabin, dude.”
“Sorry?” the guy tilted his head at Dean questioningly, but kept walking. He was wearing worn looking jeans, but a crisp looking t-shirt that had obviously never been worn before, which was notable because it was just super weird to see anyone around here owning something new other than a toothbrush. Even his sneakers only seemed to have a single layer of dirt on them.
“I’m in the Crossroads Cabin. That’s my little brother’s group. It’s the one closest to Bobby’s cabin.” Bobby preferred to keep the preteens close by, as they tended to stir up the most trouble.
The guy frowned and looked directly, unnervingly at Dean. Or possibly through him, he wasn’t quite sure. What the fuck was up with this guy? Bobby definitely needed to fire his ass.
“I’m afraid Bobby may have made an error? As I have been assigned duty at the Crossroads Cabin. Unless it is typical for two counselors to bunk there.”
Dean ground his teeth. “No. But like I said, my brother’s there. That’s where I’m staying.”
“I was asked to take Dean’s things to the Silver Cabin. You are Dean, yes? These are your things?”
“Who asked you? Because if it was Rufus or Jo, they were messing with you, man.” He was still looking at him in that weird, learning-every-inch-of-your-soul way, and it was pissing Dean off. Or freaking him out, Dean wasn’t totally sure, he just knew his heart was jackhammering away at his ribcage. He decided to focus on the pissed off, because he was trying to keep Dean from seeing Sam all summer and that was so not happening. Because if Dean had actual responsibilities to another group of campers, he couldn’t just fuck off and go talk to Sam like he could have as a camper. He’d have to stay with them. Teach them bow hunting and devil’s traps.
“The request was Bobby’s.”
“Fuck no!” Dean pushed past the asshole and stormed back up toward the main hall, where Bobby would be. This was such bullshit. Who the hell did this asshole think he even was? This fucking camp was practically set up for Dean’s benefit alone, and he’d be damned if this guy was going to fuck it up. He wouldn’t see Sam all summer at this rate and no… He wasn’t feeling tears prickling at his eyes. He clenched his jaw.
Spiky haired asshole followed Dean up the path, and damn he was quick on his feet. “Bobby said you would probably be distraught by this news. Unfortunately the reassignment was due to a camper’s conflict with me.”
Reassignment? Because this fuck had somehow already pissed off one of the kids? How the hell was that even possible, the guy had been here for two minutes! Dean grabbed his duffle and tried to take it from the guy, whose name he still hadn’t gotten, nor did he even care to, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I was helping. It was my duty to take your things to your cabin,” he said.
“Fuck off, give me my stuff man.” Dude had a grip too, but damn if he didn’t knock it off-
Dean hauled off and punched him. Hard.
“Ow! Whatthefuck!” he held his throbbing fist in his hand, because spiky hair guy’s face was like hitting a brick wall. He was rubbing his jaw, and giving Dean these quizzical puppy dog eyes, like he wasn’t even bothered getting punched in the face, but like he was confused why Dean didn’t want help carrying his stuff. Probably he gets punched in the face all the time, Dean figured. And ow, son of a bitch.
He shook his hand, shaking the pain out, and someone smacked Dean across the back of his head. “I see you managed to introduce yourself to Castiel quite accurately,” Bobby rolled his eyes.
“Bobby, this jerk is taking my bags halfway across camp and won’t listen to a word I say, like I don’t know what’s up around here,” Dean whined, sounding far too much like he was nine years old.
“Shut up. You don’t.”
“I don’t?” Dean made a smug face at Bobby.
“No, you don’t know what’s up around here. Because of you lot I had to look for new help around here, so I’ll be damned if you think you can tell me who needs to work where and doing what,” Bobby stared Dean down, making him feel more like a child than even his father ever could. “Castiel, you can continue to take Dean’s things to his cabin, thank you.”
Castiel nodded, wordlessly picking up Dean’s duffle and walking down the path, like he wasn’t super weird and like Dean hadn’t just punched him in the face.
“And you,” Bobby turned to Dean, “go unpack your stuff and meet your campers. The little one’s Claire. She’s six and she’s seen more in her life than I’ve seen in mine, so don’t treat her like a baby if you wanna have any fun this summer.”
* * * *
It took until after seven pm, but eventually all the campers succumbed to the allure of food, and Bobby had them all in the same place. The kids were all sweaty with streaks of dirt on their cheeks. A couple of the younger boys had leaves stuck in their hair, indicating they’d spent the afternoon climbing trees. In Dean’s cabin only two of the campers had come in to sort out their stuff all afternoon. Most of them were accustomed to being stuck in dingy motel rooms, or maybe their parents had a studio apartment they used as a base between hunting trips. But however they lived, the chance to run around and be free with kids like them was never squandered. Even if it took upwards of an hour to corral everyone in for dinner, Bobby wouldn’t trade the freedoms Camp Wendigo allowed for anything.
Rufus had served some excuse for hamburger hotdish with elbow macaroni that was positively swimming in mushroom soup and too much butter. Dean mopped his up with several slices of white bread and asked Ben if he was going to finish his.
“Uh, yeah. Excuse me if I don’t just inhale my food,” he side-eyed Dean. It looked like horrible glop, but tasted amazing. Dean wasn’t quite sure if that was due to some sort of sense memory thing, or if it was actually delicious, but he didn’t really care.
“Whatever. Harry, Ed? You guys are new here… You gonna finish your food?” They’d sat and meticulously made up their bunks, arranging their outfits for the next eight weeks in the order of “most likely to attract spirits to least” for at least half the afternoon. They were going to be fun as hell to prank this summer; Dean knew that much for sure. He could already see Krissy eyeing them, formulating a plan to mess with them.
Once everyone was settled with their food, Bobby went up to the front of the mess hall. “Hello new and returning campers,” he smiled. “Welcome to Camp Wendigo.”
The tables roared with cheers, and shouts of, “Hi Bobby!”
“Stuff it Bobby, we don’t need any rules this year!” someone yelled through all the applause.
“Ash, I’m beginning to wonder if you want a place here next summer or not,” Bobby shot back. “And yes, we do have some rules that you kids are to abide by, but first, because no matter what I do, some of you will still find ways to break them, I now have the pleasure of introducing our new staff for this summer.”
That was Dean’s cue to leave his table and be introduced formally as a counselor. He moved awkwardly to the front of the room and gave a small wave to the campers watching him, before his eyes darted to Bobby.
“This year Dean Winchester is in charge of the Silver cabin. Many of you are new to Camp Wendigo this year, but Dean isn’t… He’s been here since the start. If you have any questions at all, Dean is capable of helping with everything. Now, if you’re in the Silver cabin, it’s a bit of a hike through the woods from here, so until you’re used to the path, make sure you stay with Dean when out after dark.”
“We can leave after dark?” asked Harry, sounding bewildered.
“So long and you’re not an idjit who gets himself sprayed by a skunk, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass,” Bobby gave his patented “you’re wasting my time” face to the eight year old. His eyes widened and he sank down in his seat.
“Now for you older campers, I’m sure most of you have met our new friend in charge of the Devil’s Trap cabin, and our new bus driver, Anna. We have the pleasure of welcoming Anna to our camp after the rather interesting year many of your parent’s just lived through. She’s one of several fallen angels now walking on Earth, and one of three at our camp this year.”
“Yes, but I’m the only one with a drivers’ license,” she grinned, her teeth gleaming in the overhead lighting. “So don’t be asking Cas or Uriel to drive the bus. They’ll probably do it, but you won’t like it.”
“Thank you Anna,” Bobby sighed. “Which brings us to Castiel, who will be directing the kids in the Crossroads cabin to their daily activities, and Uriel who will be helping around the camp during the day, and bunking in the staff area. You’ll be most likely to find him on lifeguard duty. They are also angels who’ve joined our Camp Wendigo family after the recent apocalypse.” Bobby shot Dean a stern look, but then spoke as though he were addressing the entire camp. “Now I know we have a lot of new staff this year, so most of you probably feel like you know more about how this camp is run than they do, but you can shut it. They’re your counselors and your job is to listen to them. We don’t have many rules here, but that’s a rule. And please, don’t leave the camp premises. My wards and enchantments end at the edge of camp.”
“And they don’t protect against bears,” Dean added.
“Right. Don’t get eaten by a bear. Have a good summer everyone, and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning!”
Dean went back to his table, gulped down the rest of his milk, slamming the hard plastic cup down on the worn wood of the table. “You kids ready to go unpack yet?” he asked.
Darkness was just edging in upon the tree line as Dean led the kids down the long path to the Silver cabin. He found a reason to be pissed all over again at his reassignment, and the thought of an imaginary sign that would’ve read something like, “If you lived in the Crossroads Cabin, you’d be home by now,” flashed across his mind. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and this was going to be one annoying walk all summer.
“Anyone need some insect repellent?” asked Krissy. “I left some up in the mess hall last year. It’s still here.”
And then some kids were truly their parent’s children, and were prepared for everything. Granted, it’d been years since Dean had stayed in this cabin. It’s not like he would’ve been prepared, but bless you Krissy.
Finally back at the cabin, the kids made up their beds. There was a boys’ room and a girls’ room, that each had their own bathroom areas. Then Dean had a bedroom separating the two, but with doors direct to each, so he could basically hear if there was anything that needed counseling going on. He didn’t have his own bathroom though, needing to share with the boys, and was expected to shower in the counselors’ facilities.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad set up. And dude, the space he had as a counselor he hadn’t really thought about, but he had a dresser in here, and four walls that were his own. This was like the lap of luxury, let’s be honest. Now he was super annoyed Bobby wouldn’t let him be a counselor last year. C’mon, this is nice. Bobby was holding out on Dean, for what? A little irresponsibility? The camp was basically built on irresponsibility.
Which was why, as soon as the kids were settled, Dean grabbed a flashlight and tiptoed out, back up the path and toward the lake. He turned at the beach and rounded the lake until eyeing a disused beaver dam, then turned back into the woods about fifty paces.
Jo and Castiel were already there, a small campfire starting to kindle in front of Jo. She ducked her head down and blew lightly at the flame. “Hey Dean. Castiel brought the marshmallows, what did you bring?”
“My winning personality?”
“Ha ha,” said Jo. “Maybe you should go help him find some sticks.”
“Oh come on, Jo. It’s dark out.”
“Fine. You can roast a marshmallow on your foot, for all I care.”
Dean rolled his eyes and wondered if anyone else would show up. Anna would probably be awhile, since the older kids were usually the last to sleep. Castiel’s cabin was probably asleep, at least for tonight, but once they adjusted to camp schedule they’d be awake half the night and give Castiel a run for his money. Bobby was an idiot in reassigning them. No way some new to humanity fallen angel was ever going to tame a group of middle schoolers. They would gut him.
Dean wandered off in the direction Jo had gestured in search of Castiel, pushing branches out of his path as he went. He hadn’t gotten far. “Hey man, you finding roasting sticks?”
“Jo says they should be at least a couple feet long, and about the width of my index finger.”
“Yeah. Or the width of Jo’s index finger. Anywhere in that ballpark is good. We’ve all got knives anyway, and can carve it down a bit at the end if need be.”
“You all seem very adept at this,” Castiel said, sounding far more unsure of himself than he did when Dean was punching himself in the face. It was sort of… Well Dean liked looking out for people. It was far more agreeable than when he was trying to keep him from Sam. He had to remind himself that he hated the guy. What a jerk.
“Yeah, well we’ve all been doing this since we could walk, so a bit of an unfair advantage.”
“I have been alive since before the first creatures ever walked the Earth.”
“Okay. Well when Bobby pulls a pop quiz on pre-Cambrian science, you’re so letting me cheat off you.” Dean nudged Castiel with his elbow and shined his flashlight on a pile of brambles. “There’s a promising sight. Looks like a tree feel a couple weeks ago. I’ll cut some branches. You-“ he pointed rather bossily at the angel’s chest, “get to carry them all back. And pull the leaves off.”
“Nine days ago.”
“What?”
“That’s when the tree fell. It was a younger maple, eleven years old, and it fell nine days ago. It was doomed, however, from its fourth year, when a buck rutted its antlers against the trunk too forcefully.”
“Wonderful,” Dean rolled his eyes and scanned the woods for poison ivy, before butting his way through the underbrush with his flashlight.
Ten minutes later and Dean was leading Castiel back through the trees. The angel carried a pile of sticks with various leaves and twigs poking him in the face, as he tried to duck under limbs and branches. Dean led the way, and Jo had gotten the fire up and roaring, the flames hot on Dean’s face, leaving his back cold by comparison. Which then Castiel walked smack into.
“Oof. Sorry Dean,” he said rather sheepishly. “It was difficult to see around these branches. Where shall I put them?”
“Set ‘em by me,” Jo smiled, and Dean saw that clearly Jo and Castiel had gotten to know each other a little bit before his arrival. Jo doesn’t just talk to people in that open friendly way unless she knows them. The angel followed her direction easily, sat down, and the two of them began removing leaves and extra twigs. Dean didn’t want to just sit around with his junk in his hands, watching his friend and her weirdo buddy of the last couple days be productive, so he sat on the other side of Castiel and joined in the work.
“When’s Rufus showing up?” Dean asked. “And why don’t we have any beers open yet? We’re hunters, come on.”
Castiel kept his head bent, focused on his work, and Jo answered, “Probably in like a half hour. He said he’d be here before I even showed up, so… You know Rufus.” She got up and started digging around behind an old tree stump where she must’ve stashed a cooler earlier.
“Yeah. Cool. Did you invite the rest of the new guys, or just this schmuck?”
“Anna’s coming, but you know her cabin,” Jo tossed Dean a can of cheap beer that had probably expired a year ago. “If she can get out of there without Ash following her it’ll be a miracle. We didn’t tell Uriel. He’s kind of a stick in the mud. Figured he’d complain to Bobby.”
“Bobby knows we’re out here.” Dean downed half the can in one go and glanced back at Castiel. The angel appeared in deep concentration and hadn’t looked up.
Jo sat back down, nursing a beer of her own. “Yeah, but he pretends like he doesn’t. He might have to take a different approach without plausible deniability on his hands.”
“Like most parents are really expecting stellar supervision at this camp. Both me and Rufus’ names are on the website. And the weird brochure he’s got at the salvage yard.”
Jo laughed, and Dean noticed the angel watching her appreciatively. He couldn’t tell though, whether he had a thing for Jo, or if he just really liked it when people were laughing. Apparently it’s really difficult to read angels and figure out their motivations.
Dean got up and stocked the fire with more wood, then took a larger stick and continued poking at it aimlessly. “So what was your best hunt this year?”
“You must be joking. With all that was going on, you really thing my mother let me leave the house? It was horrible!”
“If you expect me to believe you didn’t sneak out and do something stupid at least once, then you must think I’m an idiot.”
Jo looked at him meaningfully, but resigned herself. “I chased a spirit haunting a bus halfway across the state before Mom caught up with me and hauled my ass back home. It was… Uneventful.”
“Sounds a little embarrassing,” Dean said, finishing his beer and going for another. He so wasn’t going to sit through the pleasantries of hunter-shop-talk while sober. It wouldn’t be right. Besides seriously, if this Castiel guy was going to keep silently staring at him, he was going to need to be at least tipsy, if not entirely wasted.
“Her lock down was worse than usual, Dean. I’m so fucking glad to be here, you don’t even know.”
“Tell me about it. Or, don’t. Actually. Where the hell is Rufus; there has got to be some better beer in this world.”
It was nearly a half hour, and several burned marshmallows later before the rest of the party showed up. When Anna arrived, Ash was leading the way there. A few minutes later, Rufus snuck in from the other direction. “Thank god,” said Dean, when Rufus showed up with bottle of whisky tucked under his arm. “I need a drink; you have no idea.”
Castiel eyed him curiously. “You’re already fairly intoxicated.”
Dean smirked in his direction.
“You think I brought this for you? Ah no. This… This is the good shit,” he said, then pulled held up a paper bag with three six packs inside. “Here. This stuff is the crap I bought for you bunch of freeloaders.”
“I gave you the money,” Jo said incredulously.
“Uh huh. And this is what I bought you with it. Now, what is the drama this summer? You kids have fun during the apocalypse?”
“No,” said Castiel very seriously. “It was not fun.”
“Heh, I forgot. You better have a drink of something a bit better,” said Rufus, and actually poured the angel a shot of his own Johnny Walker Blue while everyone else looked on amazed.
“What? He was on our side. That’s why he’s stuck here with all you bums, taking a summer camp gig from Bobby like it’s a handout, consolation prize. Whoo hoo, you saved the Earth. Then you get kicked out of Heaven for good and wind up with these assholes. Here,” he poured Castiel another shot. “I don’t share this stuff often, so drink up.”
“So, what did happen with the apocalypse thing anyway?” Dean wondered. “I mean, I know I got tossed an extra amount of the typical monsters in the meantime, but Dad kept me and Sammy in the dark.”
“He kept you out of it for good reason, Dean. This is one instance where you shouldn’t be bad mouthing your daddy.”
“I wasn’t!” Dean slurred defensively. “’M just curious.”
“It was Lucifer,” Ash said, gunning down one of the old beers from the cooler. Despite the fact that he was only sixteen, Ash’s particular skill set opened doors that Dean and Jo were routinely locked out of. “Tracked him across the country, but he was slippery. Never got closer than three steps behind him. And you,” he pointed at Dean, “Were a person of interest on the angels’ radar. Rufus won’t tell you that, but it’s done now so what’s the use in keeping it a secret?”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, his eyes shining at Dean. “You were a back up plan of sorts. At back up plan to a back up plan. I expect if it had come to it, the angels would’ve gone after your father first.”
Dean stared back at Castiel. The shadows of the fire flickered across his features, revealing the tiredness behind them. But he looked pleased to be where he was now, for whatever reason.
“Wait a minute, I thought the angels were supposed to be good guys,” said Dean.
“Yeah, we did too,” Ash chuckled, popping open his second beer. “Turns out they’re the ones who jumpstarted this whole thing. Or probably anyway. They were all for it.”
This subject matter was a little bleak for a first night of camp bon fire, Dean thought, missing shenanagains of years past. Where was the part where Jo took her shirt off and they all ran through the woods with sparklers taped to their hips?
“The demon Azazel technically started it,” deadpanned Castiel. “The apocalypse. But if you told me Zachariah had planted the idea in his head, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised.”
“Wow. Well this is some cheerful subject matter,” Jo interjected. “Not that I’m not curious, but do we want to spend the whole evening moping?”
Rufus shrugged. “Welcome to hunter’s summer camp.”
Jo tossed another beer in Dean’s direction. “I think Dean and Castiel should have a drinking contest. They already got in a fight today.”
“Puh!” Dean laughed. A drinking contest with an angel? He’d probably never had a drop in his life! Dean would drink him under the table. “I’m game.”
Jo and Anna smiled at each other and looked like they were restraining laughter. Which, a smarter Dean would have seen as a bad sign, but the Dean who wanted to fuck with Castiel and get him really stupid drunk didn’t notice.
Castiel carefully pulled open the tab on his beer, and Dean smirked because the idiot had already had two shots of whiskey while Dean had only had… Well three beers. But who’s counting? He opened his beer and gunned back about half of it. “Your move, angel,” Dean waggled his eyebrows in Castiel’s direction.
Castiel took his time drinking, a calm look on his face like he was just enjoying the moment. It wasn’t until Dean had gotten a bit more alcohol in his system and was feeling pretty lose that he realized he hadn’t really stopped staring at the angel’s face since the drinking contest began.
Not that that seemed to register with Castiel, who continued his calm consumption of beer, and never seemed to get any drunker. “Man Cas,” Dean nudged him with his shoulder, which threw too much weight behind it in his drunken state, and the two of them nearly toppled off the log. Castiel caught him and forced him upright. “You can really hold your booze. For an angel.”
“Yes Dean. In fact, I believe you’re behind. You owe me another drink.”
* * * *
Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 1-4)
7:00 AM- Breakfast
7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)
8:00-9:00- Target range (Jo Harville & Dean Winchester instructing)
9:15-10:15- Arts & Crafts (Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester instructing)
10:30- Snack break
10:45-11:45- Library (Dean Winchester instructing)
12:00- Lunch
1:00- Free Choice.
Dean awoke the next morning with a pounding hangover and with Krissy splashing water on his face. “Wake up, Dean. It’s already seven-oh-two! The other kids left for breakfast!”
“Urgh, okay. ‘Mwake,” Dean mumbled into his pillow.
“Yeah, but all the bacon’s gonna be all gone.”
“Go up and get some bacon. If there’s any left. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Shit, shit, shit, Dean thought, as he watched Krissy scamper out the door. Bobby was gonna cuss him out but good, him sleeping in on his first day of adult responsibility. How this was why he didn’t want to hire him as a full time counselor, and now Dean was just proving him right, and what was he gonna do with him all summer long? Like it wasn’t bad enough to miss out on bacon. At this rate, breakfast already started and a good seven minute walk up to the mess hall, Dean would be stuck with nothing but cold cereal and maybe the dregs of some toast, if he was lucky. Not really a stellar meal to nurse his hangover.
After breakfast, Dean munched on the last of his toast as he walked with the kids back to their cabin. Just like the night before, Castiel’s group with Sammy were all already back at their bunks, and it was another reason to continue being really pissy with this entire situation, not even counting how stupidly unfair it was that the angel didn’t seem to be feeling any ill-effects from the massive amounts of alcohol he ingested. Asshole.
Dean could picture him sitting there all serenely, quietly sipping a beer while he peered at Dean through the darkness. He still had that same expression on his face and hit was making Dean seethe with hungover irritation.
On the plus side, the younger kids were probably the most fun to look after in the entire camp, whereas Castiel’s group were probably going to earn the title of smelliest and most obnoxious in no time.
“So we’ve got the target range up first, guys. I was thinking we’d start with knife throwing for the first week, what do you guys think?”
“Do we get to use our own knives?” asked Ben.
“Yeah, obviously. But by the end of the week I want you to have tried everything we have available. The whole point is you gain proficiency with a variety of weapons.”
Ed and Harry, meanwhile, seemed rather predictably freaked out at the prospect. “Real knives? I don’t think my mom would let me use a real knife.”
“Yeah,” Krissy slung an arm over Ed’s shoulders, “But your mom isn’t here. Besides, there’s a reason Ellen’s office is right next to the target range.”
“You guys’ll be awesome,” Ben grinned his patented reassuring smile. He never held back for anyone. Dean really did like these kids, when it came right down to it. They weren’t Sammy, but it was impossible not to become fond of them.
Mornings at camp were always jam packed with activities and lessons, living up to the advertised focus of the camp-becoming a better hunter. It was exhausting for the first week or so, until everyone got used to the routine. By the time snack break rolled around, Dean was already feeling wiped. And not just for the fact that the younger campers struggled so much with “arts & crafts,” which was really just a cute way of saying they practiced drawing runes and sigils, and carving sticks into points sharp enough to easily kill something. Basically any of the hands-on prep of tools that needed to be done before a hunt got practiced at arts & crafts.
“These wards themselves aren’t good for anything,” Bobby explained, passing out chalk and black construction paper. “The spells that go with these wards are very complicated, and without them what you’ve created is nothing but a strange design. However, as magical symbols go, these are fairly easy to master, and let’s start simple and work our way to more complicated things.” He flashed a picture in a textbook of an elaborate and powerful devil’s trap.
Today the kids would be drawing sigils that would ordinarily be used as wards on hex boxes. Dean put up the pictures for them to copy on an overhead, and in a display of first day excitement, everyone got right to work. And got right to being frustrated. Even Ben and Krissy, who had plenty of experience with this stuff, were desperately out of practice and found the task difficult.
“Come on you guys, I can’t find many sigils easier to draw than this.”
“Can’t we use markers?”
“You gonna use markers on a hex box? Or what if all you’ve got to work with is dirt? Or blood? You have to make due with what you’ve got, kid. Crayola’s not gonna come save your ass when the demons are calling.”
“Nice pep talk, Bobby,” Dean smirked. “Don’t concentrate so hard. Trust yourself. You’re pushing too hard on the chalk because you’re nervous, that’s why it keeps flaking that way and doesn’t look right.”
Somehow Dean’s motivation was even less successful than Bobby’s, and by ten o’clock the group was ready to call it quits. “Go run around for fifteen minutes!” Bobby yelled after dismissing everyone. “Don’t try to get snacks; they won’t be put out yet!”
“Please tell me we’re having actual snack foods, Bobby. Cookies and candy bars. And pie. Those are snacks, not the apples and carrot sticks crap you fed us last year.”
“I’m a legitimate care-taker, Dean. I need to make sure you kids don’t just eat garbage all summer.”
Dean tossed his head back and groaned.
“Nobody’s eating anything I wouldn’t eat myself. But if you think that means I’m not going to nourish you kids, you’re a bigger idjit than I gave you credit for. And today we’re having yogurt with fruit and granola, but I didn’t chose it.”
* * * *
While mornings at camp were straight to business, the afternoons were an extended playtime.
Free Choice Activities Guidelines
All campers are recommended to participate in at least three different camp related activities during their time at Camp Wendigo. Campers may switch activities at any time during the afternoon, or may stay with the same activity the whole day. Campers, your time is your own.
-Target range. Get in some more practice at the target range, with a variety of weapons available. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise this activity.
-Swimming. We always have a lifeguard on duty, whether you see them or not. Watch out! Remember to use a buddy system while swimming.
-Hiking. Get to know the woods well before the Wendigo hunt at the end of the summer! On Tuesdays there will be scavenger hunt items placed in the woods for you to find; the item list is available in the game room.
-Practice research. Information on past caes are available in the library. Follow the clues the same way another hunter once did-all the clues are at your fingertips in the library. Test your skills putting them together.
Not everything is about hunting monsters. We’re here to hone our skills, but that’s not all there is to being a great hunter, or the sort of person that anyone would want to know.
-Canoeing, boating, or water skiing. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise and run this activity. Life jackets required. Must be age 16 or older to operate the boat.
-Sports activities. Civilian sports equipment is available in the spare shed. Throw together a game with fellow campers.
-Game room. Board games, cards, foosball, puzzles, and movies are available in the game room. It’s a game room; play some games.
* * * *
For the first day of afternoon activities, every kid in the Silver Cabin wanted to go swimming. Of course they did. They were like eight years old and the lake had been calling them since the moment they arrived.
“Headed to the lake?” asked Anna, after Dean had sent the kids off to change into swimsuits.
“Clearly. I’m guessing the older lot are slightly less inclined to swim for six hours.”
“Yeah. The water itself loses its appeal when you get jaded with old age. I think they’re gonna watch a movie. Except Ronald, whose actually doing that thing in the library.”
“Did I miss a memo? Is it supposed to rain? I’m sorry, but your cabin is boring as balls, Anna.”
“How’s the hangover?”
“Gone, finally.
Anna snickered. “Okay, Dean. I’m gonna go make myself available to supervise campers. You have fun with Uriel.”
Right. Uriel. The guy he hadn’t really met. But if everyone found Castiel to be agreeable and Uriel to be the asshole… This might be an interesting afternoon.
* * * *
Dean’s feet smacked loudly on the dock, his weight rocking the whole structure back and forth. “Everyone out here have a buddy?” he asked. He figured he’d be responsible. He unfolded an old lawn chair and sat down, popping open a bottle of sunscreen.
“Claire! Ben! And all the rest of you… Get your asses up here and get some sunscreen. Most of you are whiter than vanilla and you’re gonna burn in about five seconds.”
Predictably no one listened to him, and Dean rubbed in the last of the smudges of sunscreen into his nose. “Whatever, I tried. You’ll all tell Bobby I warned you and it’s your fault you didn’t listen, right?”
“What was that?” one of the older girls, Maggie, if Dean remembered right, started freaking out. Her eyes were huge. “Something just rubbed against my leg!”
“I felt it too!” yelled Andy, and stuck his face under the water, almost certainly keeping his eyes open, looking for “the lake monster.” It was a favorite game at Camp Wendigo. Everyone knew that the lifeguard duty was really the job of playing the lake monster. Once the lake monster attacked, the kids had to do whatever they could to swim safely to shore, or “kill” the monster by ripping the lifeguard’s snorkel off… Not that the task was easy. It was tied onto his face more thoroughly than usual.
Of course, everyone knew that, except probably the new kids. I mean, it was hinted at on the signs by the lake, listing the rules for swimming, and in the information given for afternoon activities, but Dean doubted anyone had said anything to them directly.
Why would they? People thinking they were getting attacked by a legit lake monster, when it was really just Uriel in a snorkel mask was hilarious. And extra awesome since the guy was clearly using some of his lingering angel mojo, and not coming up for air. Damn, even the kids who knew about this game might start to get freaked out after awhile. Dean put his hands behind his head and leaned back to watch the show.
“It touched my feet!” Maggie yelled, and started kicking and splashing, paddling her way toward the shore. “There’s something in the water!” She was never going to make it to shore, Dean thought, and looked around at the other kids.
Ed was freaking out. “That’s my sister! Maggie, swim! You guys, do something!”
Ben swam toward the dock and was assessing the situation, a slight smirk on his face, while Andy was still sticking his head under the water, trying to find Uriel in the water. Then Maggie was yanked backward, like something right out of jaws. She screamed, and was yanked again all the way under with a small splash.
Claire, who had been silent the entire time, but couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this was a game, dove for the spot where Maggie had disappeared. Andy followed suit, his face laughing. Andy was ridiculous and he loved this game. He loved swimming, and was braver in the water than he was anywhere else. He was definitely going after the snorkel.
A few seconds later, Maggie’s head popped up about ten feet away from where she’d gone under. Uriel had let her go. No one actually drowned in this game. “It… It grabbed me!” she gasped. “SWIM! GET OUT OF THE WATER!”
Harry was already standing on the beach, arms wrapped around himself. “Swim back! Swim!”
“What is it?” yelled Ed. “What is it? Dean!”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You guys are fine. Look, Ben and Andy are dealing with it. Where’d Claire go?”
Claire was swimming out to Maggie, when her head disappeared again. Claire dove in behind her.
Andy turned to Ben. “I can’t figure out where he is. He has to come up for air eventually!”
“No he doesn’t. He’s an angel, remember. They probably don’t need to breathe.”
“IT TOUCHED MY LEG! I’M GOING TO DIE,” Ed yelled. “IT TOUCHED MY-“ And then Ed was dragged under the water as well.
“Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel shouted from the shore. He and Ash were carrying several canoe paddles, but Castiel dropped his. “The children are in need of assistance!” Castiel dropped his paddles, then ran in towards all the mayhem. Ash sniggered, and dropped his armload as well before walking out to Dean on the dock.
Claire’s head popped up again, and she had Maggie in tow. Both of them were fine. “Looks like your boy doesn’t know about the lake monster game,” Ash laughed, bumping Dean on the shoulder.
“Who?”
“Castiel. Hilarious.”
“He’s not ‘my boy’,” Dean scoffed. But Castiel came back up, looking very heroic with Ed flailing in his arms. “I mean look at him. Ridiculous.”
“Uh huh,” said Ash.
Uriel stood up in waist deep water, and pulled the goggles and snorkel off his face. “What are you doing Castiel? The children are meant to learn to save themselves.”
“What?” Castiel dropped Ed back into the lake, where he sputtered and splashed around like he’d forgotten how to swim. Castiel looked almost adorable, with a baffled look on his face.
Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked, but eventually rolled his eyes and explained the situation to Castiel.
“This seems wildly irresponsible. I’m not sure that most summer camps operate this way.”
“Yeah, well. No one’s died yet,” Dean waved at Uriel. “Nice work.”
“For a cheater!” yelled Andy. “I almost had him!”
“And thus ends the most hilarious misunderstanding possible at camp. A little lackluster guys. Next year I’m gonna need you to milk the situation for all it’s worth when the newbies first get in the water.”
* * * *
Over the next couple days, everyone in camp seemed to want to canoe. Bobby put Dean and Castiel both in charge of taking the kids out. Only Castiel had only gotten one of the canoes ready yesterday, and he’d done a pretty terrible job of it. Also he’d apparently fallen out of it (which Dean would’ve paid anything to see), so the thing was full of muddy water and was upside down in the grass on the edge of the lake.
“I’m not sure I like canoeing,” Castiel crinkled his nose. “Are we certain Bobby would like me to instruct in this area? Perhaps I could be reassigned.”
“Not likely. Bobby likes everyone to get better at stuff, including the counselors. Get over here and help me get this bitch down.”
They were in the largest supply shed, which was really an old barn that had been converted to hold several canoes and kayaks, as well as a couple four-wheeler all terrain vehicles, and all the swimming and water skiing supplies. There were also several racks of weapons and gasoline. This was a camp for aspiring hunters after all, and the whole place was basically geared so you could never forget it. Even if you spent your whole afternoon water skiing and doing puzzles, your wipeout would be graded on a scale from a standard spirit salt and burn, to a vampire beheading with a chainsaw. And all of the puzzles looked like Bobby had lifted them from a haunted house somewhere.
Castiel came up behind Dean and grabbed the falling end of the canoe before it crashed down from the rafters. Dean could feel his eyes on the back of his neck, and he absolutely did not shiver at the thought of the angel standing so close to him and looking at him.
So they had maybe had a bit of a stare-off at the campfire the other night, but that was only because Cas irritated him so fucking much. But it also meant he knew just exactly how intense those eyes were watching him right now.
Together they lowered the canoe down to the floor, and moved on to the next one. “How many do you think we’ll need?” Castiel asked, and fuck if he wasn’t standing like, right next to Dean. His chin was practically brushing against his shoulder as he talked; the dude did not understand personal space at all. And Dean could fucking smell him.
“Uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, practically elbowing Castiel in the face in the process. Serves him right, if he’s going to stand that close to people. He wanted to tell him to back off, but for some reason he also didn’t. “Probably like four or five? Depends if we put two kids in a boat or three.”
“And we are absolutely certain that I cannot simply watch.”
Dean looked at him, and he wasn’t sure, because Castiel was really weird, but he thought he saw genuine worry on his face. Like, worry for his own personal safety, which couldn’t be something that a creature used to being immortal was used to feeling. He figured he should be reassuring, even if Castiel had fucked up Dean’s entire summer. He did fall out of a canoe yesterday, and into the really mucky and kind of creepy part of the lake, full of turtles and creepy underwater shadows as the muck swirled around, and who knows what else hiding in the weeds.
It was hilarious, but Dean wasn’t that much of a dick. Not quite.
“You’ll be fine,” Dean patted him on the shoulder. “The worst that could possibly happen to you already did, and here you are, man.”
“Yes. Here I am,” Castiel agreed. “I am quite grateful that fate has led me here, after all that has occurred. There are many more undesirable places.”
Dean was pretty sure at this point, that Castiel was talking about something bigger than just tipping into the lake yesterday. “Uh. Okay. Well, good, I guess.”
“I mean to say, that very few angels chose to rebel from Heaven. Most of us didn’t have the choice. It’s very difficult to understand what choice is, Dean.” His voice was becoming more gravely as he spoke, lending more power to his words. Like just thinking about his time fighting as an angel was bringing out his more angelic traits. “I’m still not quite certain I can fathom all of the choices allotted to us with free will. It’s… Overwhelming.”
Dean just stared at him, and the angel, that fucker, stared right back. It was like Dean’s eyes were captured. But it’d be rude to look away when the guy was baring his soul or whatever. And they still had two more canoes to lift down, but Dean stayed rooted to the spot, not quite knowing what would be the best thing to do in this situation. He figured hearing the guy out was best though.
“Those of us who did rebel; most died. So I’m very lucky to be here, Dean. And I’m even luckier that I am amongst hunters who know of the apocalypse and what happened. It is much more relatable.”
“Do you regret it? Rebelling from Heaven, I mean. That seems like kind of a big deal.”
“Never. Once I began to doubt, there wasn’t a better path. It was a choice, but it was in many ways the only choice. If I was true to myself, which was also something angels aren’t used to understanding.”
“Hmm. Well, we should probably get these canoes and paddles out-“
“There is no way to escape the guilt though, you are right. I have regrets. When I fell and started on the path to becoming human, my vessel’s soul was sent away. Without my grace holding it together, the body can’t contain us both.”
“So, that’s a vessel you’re possessing?” Dean looked incredulous. Castiel looked like a human guy, so it wasn’t a large leap to make that he wasn’t in his true form. He was a lean guy, but still strong looking, probably about twenty-two or twenty-three years old.
“Yes. He actually prayed for it. But I don’t think he expected the full consequences of it.”
“So he’s dead.”
“Yes. He was Claire’s uncle. He’s dead.”
Dean gulped. There was a huge amount of sadness behind Cas’ eyes, he could see that now. And okay, it was a pretty big deal why he and Castiel had to switch cabins.
“I see how she looks at me, so I can’t forget the pain I’ve caused in the world.”
“But you saved the world a greater pain. More suffering, right? I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t help with the apocalypse stuff, but from what it all sounds like…”
The door to the barn slammed open and Sam stood there, framed in the sunlight from outside. Dean could only recognize him by his silhouette. “What’s the hold up? Are we gonna even make it across the lake today?”
Dean smiled and waved Sammy over. “Yeah, c’mon and help us get the canoes down.”
Sam rolled his eyes, because it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to reach, but he bounced over anyway, and started pulling out the paddles. Castiel pulled Dean by the arm, so he would stop looking at his brother, and could continue in their task.
Twenty minutes later they were all out on the water. Claire and Sammy were in Dean’s boat. Ben and Andy got stuck with Cas, and they were extremely vocal over their concerns the angel would flip them.
“Hey look, Castiel! A duck!” shouted Sam, trying to get him to turn to quickly.
Castiel looked to Dean. “Just ignore them,” he mouthed silently, and Castiel did. So when they all got back to shore, and Castiel was still dry and unharmed, Jake and Krissy had to race back ahead of everyone, then wade out and dump his boat.
Castiel coughed and sputtered, lake muck running down his face from where it matted down his hair. Everyone was laughing, and Dean was wheezing so hard he didn’t think he’d ever breathe again, but he felt a little guilty while Cas was looking so much like a kicked puppy. He tried to be game though, and faked a laugh. Castiel was really bad at pretending to laugh, as it turned out.
Part Two
Author: sockkiah
Artist: psycocatgirl
Fandom/Genre: SPN AU
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, mentions of Sam/Jess
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 25,290
Summary: A send up of cheesy summer camp movies, Dean and Sam have spent most of their childhood summers at Camp Wendigo, Bobby's summer camp for aspiring hunters and the children of hunters. Now nineteen, it's Dean's first year as a counselor, but he's not the only new staff member at the camp. Bobby's also hired on some fallen angels after the recently averted apocalypse. At first the angels seem to do nothing but get in the way of Dean's summer plans, and Dean doesn't get along. When kids from the camp across the lake start to go missing, can Camp Wendigo come together and save the day?
Dean had been at the bus stop for at least a half hour. Sweat was beading across his forehead and soaking into the collar at the back of his neck. He could tell it was going to be hot and sticky and an all around miserable day to be stuck on a bus for three hours. Despite all Dean’s years at Camp Wendigo, he’d never actually ridden the camp bus before, but he’d been carefully informed that there was no air conditioner and that the children were not allowed to have any knives on their person.
Knives and weapons would be returned when the children arrived to camp.
Bobby never really thought that he’d be spending much, if any, of his adult life with children. And then there were John’s boys.
Then just as Dean was getting to the age where he was often unsupervised for long stints and becoming especially adept at getting himself into trouble-the kind of trouble only the children of hunters got into, little Sammy was making noises about wanting to attend some sort of Kindergarten soccer camp. So Bobby, being resourceful as he ever was, got an idea that would hopefully keep Dean alive for at least another year, and at the same time appease Sam’s wishes for summer camp. At age five, Sam would be the youngest ever to attend Bobby Singer’s Camp Wendigo for young hunters. Everyone else had to be at least eight.
As it turned out, the camp was a niche in the hunter world that needed filling. Sam and Dean weren’t the only children of hunters who needed something to do during the summer.
By now it was Dean’s ninth summer at Camp Wendigo. Bobby had finally made him a counselor after two years as a junior counselor. Usually he would’ve gotten the promotion after one year, given how long he’d attended the camp, and that eighteen year olds were supposed to be counselors and not junior counselors, but Bobby had some misgivings about Dean’s ability to be responsible for seven-plus eight year olds, or whatever the fuck. Rufus thought it was some bullshit too, and towards the end of last summer he, Dean, and Jo hatched a plan to blow up a bunch of shit behind the “arts & crafts” shed… Which just so happened to be adjacent to the counselors’ lounge and storage area.
Long story short, Bobby wound up having to hire a bunch of new staff this summer. It was hilarious. Especially the part where Ellen realized that Jo was partially responsible for the whole mess. “Joanna Beth Harville! If you think you’ll be doing anything fun for the next six months, you are sorely mistaken!” Dean refrained from telling her how the majority of the plan had come from Jo’s brain in the first place, despite how much entertainment that would’ve been. He hoped Jo was grateful for his sacrifice.
Ellen was the nurse at Camp Wendigo, but easily the strictest adult on the premises. Probably because she was the one who had to deal with the consequences of everyone else’s irresponsibility, and patch up the injuries. She was also responsible for the no weapons on the bus rule.
Back when the camp was only a few years old, apparently some kid had cut himself open with his dad’s hunting knife when the bus went over a bump. Ellen hadn’t been present to give any first aid for another hour and fifteen minutes, until the bus arrived at camp. The kid had lost so much blood by then that they’d needed to take him to the hospital. Hence Dean’s current post, just around the block from the Greyhound station.
The first to arrive at the bus stop was Ronald Reznik, who was sixteen and had been attending the camp almost as long as Dean had. He was one of several non-hunter campers who were convinced the whole thing was a really intense role-playing experience. Dean wondered why Bobby allowed them, but he explained they did not receive a “hunter’s discount” and their money was basically what kept the camp open and operating.
Dean and Ronald chatted for a bit. “Dude, I love you man! No one’s even here yet and you’re already in character!”
Dean rolled his eyes and soon other campers began filtering in, lugging duffel bags up to his sunny patch of sidewalk. Dean has a worn-looking, canvas backpack for the kids to put their weapons in. He didn’t have to say anything to the veteran campers who already knew the drill. Gwen shot him a death glare before dropping at least four knives and a shotgun into the bag. “A gun, Gwen? Really?” Dean had no idea if this was a common occurrence or not, but it’s not like the camp wasn’t stocked with weapons anyway. Most of the kids just had knives that their parents wanted them to keep on them.
“Can’t ever bee too careful,” she smirked. Then, as Dean was distracted by the sea-foam green bus pulling up, she elbowed him in the gut for good measure.
Dean kicked at her shin. “I’m a counselor now Gwen. Quit… violence. You can’t just hit people.”
“Very authoritative,” she said, and climbed aboard the bus, leaving Dean searching for a one liner when Ash showed up, claiming no items of interest for Dean’s bag of goodies. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, clad only in a pair of dirty jeans cut off at the knees, and a trucker hat that looked too big for his mulleted head.
Some of the newbies looked like they thought they were in trouble for having anything until an older camper came along and reassured them they’d get their stuff back once they arrived.
“Did you forget to mention that, Dean?” Ronald shouted out the window from the back of the bus.
“Shut it, Ronald! I never rode the bus before.” Which apparently wasn’t a solid defense in any way, as everyone howled with laughter. The back of Dean’s neck burned, but he kept a straight face, and looked the next camper down.
“Wait, you guys actually brought weapons to this thing?” the kid asked. He was one of the smallest guys and said his name was Harry.
“You know what’s out there,” said the blonde girl behind him. She looked way too young to be there, but set an excellent looking, silver blade into the pack. “Mom had it specially made after my uncle disappeared. Not that it would do any good against 99% of the things I’ve come across.”
Dean nodded and watched her get on the sweltering bus with a swagger that was 100% faked. Except perhaps the glare she set on the bus driver.
Whoever the driver was, she was one of Bobby’s new hires and she was insanely gorgeous. Long red hair that she’d pulled off her neck into a bouncy ponytail, and a light pink tank top left pale shoulders glowing in the over bright sun. And her eyes were huge. Dean felt like he could drown in them.
“Hey Dean! I’m Anna. Everyone all aboard?”
Dean stopped staring at her for half a second and managed to check his list. “Uh yeah. Everyone checked off on my list. Yours?”
Anna looked at her clipboard to double check. “Yep, everyone’s accounted for. Now get on this bus, Winchester. It’s gonna be a long, miserable ride.”
Anna wasn’t wrong. Only a minimal breezed caught through the bus windows, and all the younger kids kept complaining they had to pee. When Anna eventually pulled over by a patch of trees, and pointed the boys to one bush and the girls to another, Dean was able to pick out the real hunters from the role players. Harry, Ed and Maggie were clearly here to play a game. “You people never heard of a rest stop?”
But Claire didn’t even hear them, as she’d already followed Krissy over to the girls’ side. Dean still couldn’t quite believe how young she was. There was no way she was eight, but whatever, he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Bobby had promised him that he could be in charge of the group of 12-14 year olds, which would place him hanging out with Sammy all summer. Which had never really happened before, their age difference getting in the way, and had always been the worst part of summer, if Dean was being honest with himself. By the end of camp he was always ready to go back to seeing so much of his brother that he was sick of his face.
The bus roared past a falling down sign that read Camp Wendigo, and Anna stopped the bus with a screech in the middle of the main field, in the middle of camp. Everyone ditched their belongings, unstuck their sweaty legs from the seats, and piled off the bus as quickly as possible. Half the kids ran for the mess hall, which had a hose attached to the side that they wanted to take a drink off of, while the other half ran in all directions, ready to explore new territory, or see what had changed since last year.
Dean breathed deeply, basking in all the smells and sounds. It was strange, but three years out, and the ambiance still felt the same, even though he wasn’t here as a camper anymore. So many summers he’d sat in Bobby’s office, kicking the side of his desk impatiently while Bobby read up on some kind of monster. And then when the bus finally arrived, Dean would run out to meet them, running through the trees, and down to the lake. Kicking off socks and shoes and wading in with his clothes still on, then running back up barefoot and dripping along the other path.
Realistically, Dean could’ve spent the last whole day or so running through the camp, testing out any new equipment, without anyone else to bother him, but the energy and excitement of everyone exploring all at once was something special. Something Dean wanted to save and have with everyone else. So he waited. And every summer, he and Sam were just like every other kid in camp. They were just normal kids. The kids who didn’t hunt monsters were the weird ones.
Dean wanted to go down to the lake now, but they had to unload the bus. Two other counselors came over the help. A big, black guy who was way too over dressed for camp, and a smaller guy with spiked up hair. Dean didn’t pay them much mind; he’d have plenty of time to meet them later. He finished pulling everyone’s luggage off the bus, before heading over to the mess hall to get a drink from the hose himself.
Twenty minutes later, and suddenly Dean was fully regretting the awesome explosions of last summer. Granted, he’d almost certainly still be a junior counselor if they hadn’t pulled that off, but then, Bobby wouldn’t have needed to hire the apparent bunch of weirdos Dean was now stuck spending summer with.
The spiky haired guy was carrying Dean’s duffle for him, headed in the wrong direction, and acting like a smug asshole, in Dean’s opinion. “No seriously, I can carry my own shit. In fact, I even know what cabin it’s supposed to go to. I’m staying in the Crossroads Cabin, dude.”
“Sorry?” the guy tilted his head at Dean questioningly, but kept walking. He was wearing worn looking jeans, but a crisp looking t-shirt that had obviously never been worn before, which was notable because it was just super weird to see anyone around here owning something new other than a toothbrush. Even his sneakers only seemed to have a single layer of dirt on them.
“I’m in the Crossroads Cabin. That’s my little brother’s group. It’s the one closest to Bobby’s cabin.” Bobby preferred to keep the preteens close by, as they tended to stir up the most trouble.
The guy frowned and looked directly, unnervingly at Dean. Or possibly through him, he wasn’t quite sure. What the fuck was up with this guy? Bobby definitely needed to fire his ass.
“I’m afraid Bobby may have made an error? As I have been assigned duty at the Crossroads Cabin. Unless it is typical for two counselors to bunk there.”
Dean ground his teeth. “No. But like I said, my brother’s there. That’s where I’m staying.”
“I was asked to take Dean’s things to the Silver Cabin. You are Dean, yes? These are your things?”
“Who asked you? Because if it was Rufus or Jo, they were messing with you, man.” He was still looking at him in that weird, learning-every-inch-of-your-soul way, and it was pissing Dean off. Or freaking him out, Dean wasn’t totally sure, he just knew his heart was jackhammering away at his ribcage. He decided to focus on the pissed off, because he was trying to keep Dean from seeing Sam all summer and that was so not happening. Because if Dean had actual responsibilities to another group of campers, he couldn’t just fuck off and go talk to Sam like he could have as a camper. He’d have to stay with them. Teach them bow hunting and devil’s traps.
“The request was Bobby’s.”
“Fuck no!” Dean pushed past the asshole and stormed back up toward the main hall, where Bobby would be. This was such bullshit. Who the hell did this asshole think he even was? This fucking camp was practically set up for Dean’s benefit alone, and he’d be damned if this guy was going to fuck it up. He wouldn’t see Sam all summer at this rate and no… He wasn’t feeling tears prickling at his eyes. He clenched his jaw.
Spiky haired asshole followed Dean up the path, and damn he was quick on his feet. “Bobby said you would probably be distraught by this news. Unfortunately the reassignment was due to a camper’s conflict with me.”
Reassignment? Because this fuck had somehow already pissed off one of the kids? How the hell was that even possible, the guy had been here for two minutes! Dean grabbed his duffle and tried to take it from the guy, whose name he still hadn’t gotten, nor did he even care to, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I was helping. It was my duty to take your things to your cabin,” he said.
“Fuck off, give me my stuff man.” Dude had a grip too, but damn if he didn’t knock it off-
Dean hauled off and punched him. Hard.
“Ow! Whatthefuck!” he held his throbbing fist in his hand, because spiky hair guy’s face was like hitting a brick wall. He was rubbing his jaw, and giving Dean these quizzical puppy dog eyes, like he wasn’t even bothered getting punched in the face, but like he was confused why Dean didn’t want help carrying his stuff. Probably he gets punched in the face all the time, Dean figured. And ow, son of a bitch.
He shook his hand, shaking the pain out, and someone smacked Dean across the back of his head. “I see you managed to introduce yourself to Castiel quite accurately,” Bobby rolled his eyes.
“Bobby, this jerk is taking my bags halfway across camp and won’t listen to a word I say, like I don’t know what’s up around here,” Dean whined, sounding far too much like he was nine years old.
“Shut up. You don’t.”
“I don’t?” Dean made a smug face at Bobby.
“No, you don’t know what’s up around here. Because of you lot I had to look for new help around here, so I’ll be damned if you think you can tell me who needs to work where and doing what,” Bobby stared Dean down, making him feel more like a child than even his father ever could. “Castiel, you can continue to take Dean’s things to his cabin, thank you.”
Castiel nodded, wordlessly picking up Dean’s duffle and walking down the path, like he wasn’t super weird and like Dean hadn’t just punched him in the face.
“And you,” Bobby turned to Dean, “go unpack your stuff and meet your campers. The little one’s Claire. She’s six and she’s seen more in her life than I’ve seen in mine, so don’t treat her like a baby if you wanna have any fun this summer.”
* * * *
It took until after seven pm, but eventually all the campers succumbed to the allure of food, and Bobby had them all in the same place. The kids were all sweaty with streaks of dirt on their cheeks. A couple of the younger boys had leaves stuck in their hair, indicating they’d spent the afternoon climbing trees. In Dean’s cabin only two of the campers had come in to sort out their stuff all afternoon. Most of them were accustomed to being stuck in dingy motel rooms, or maybe their parents had a studio apartment they used as a base between hunting trips. But however they lived, the chance to run around and be free with kids like them was never squandered. Even if it took upwards of an hour to corral everyone in for dinner, Bobby wouldn’t trade the freedoms Camp Wendigo allowed for anything.
Rufus had served some excuse for hamburger hotdish with elbow macaroni that was positively swimming in mushroom soup and too much butter. Dean mopped his up with several slices of white bread and asked Ben if he was going to finish his.
“Uh, yeah. Excuse me if I don’t just inhale my food,” he side-eyed Dean. It looked like horrible glop, but tasted amazing. Dean wasn’t quite sure if that was due to some sort of sense memory thing, or if it was actually delicious, but he didn’t really care.
“Whatever. Harry, Ed? You guys are new here… You gonna finish your food?” They’d sat and meticulously made up their bunks, arranging their outfits for the next eight weeks in the order of “most likely to attract spirits to least” for at least half the afternoon. They were going to be fun as hell to prank this summer; Dean knew that much for sure. He could already see Krissy eyeing them, formulating a plan to mess with them.
Once everyone was settled with their food, Bobby went up to the front of the mess hall. “Hello new and returning campers,” he smiled. “Welcome to Camp Wendigo.”
The tables roared with cheers, and shouts of, “Hi Bobby!”
“Stuff it Bobby, we don’t need any rules this year!” someone yelled through all the applause.
“Ash, I’m beginning to wonder if you want a place here next summer or not,” Bobby shot back. “And yes, we do have some rules that you kids are to abide by, but first, because no matter what I do, some of you will still find ways to break them, I now have the pleasure of introducing our new staff for this summer.”
That was Dean’s cue to leave his table and be introduced formally as a counselor. He moved awkwardly to the front of the room and gave a small wave to the campers watching him, before his eyes darted to Bobby.
“This year Dean Winchester is in charge of the Silver cabin. Many of you are new to Camp Wendigo this year, but Dean isn’t… He’s been here since the start. If you have any questions at all, Dean is capable of helping with everything. Now, if you’re in the Silver cabin, it’s a bit of a hike through the woods from here, so until you’re used to the path, make sure you stay with Dean when out after dark.”
“We can leave after dark?” asked Harry, sounding bewildered.
“So long and you’re not an idjit who gets himself sprayed by a skunk, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass,” Bobby gave his patented “you’re wasting my time” face to the eight year old. His eyes widened and he sank down in his seat.
“Now for you older campers, I’m sure most of you have met our new friend in charge of the Devil’s Trap cabin, and our new bus driver, Anna. We have the pleasure of welcoming Anna to our camp after the rather interesting year many of your parent’s just lived through. She’s one of several fallen angels now walking on Earth, and one of three at our camp this year.”
“Yes, but I’m the only one with a drivers’ license,” she grinned, her teeth gleaming in the overhead lighting. “So don’t be asking Cas or Uriel to drive the bus. They’ll probably do it, but you won’t like it.”
“Thank you Anna,” Bobby sighed. “Which brings us to Castiel, who will be directing the kids in the Crossroads cabin to their daily activities, and Uriel who will be helping around the camp during the day, and bunking in the staff area. You’ll be most likely to find him on lifeguard duty. They are also angels who’ve joined our Camp Wendigo family after the recent apocalypse.” Bobby shot Dean a stern look, but then spoke as though he were addressing the entire camp. “Now I know we have a lot of new staff this year, so most of you probably feel like you know more about how this camp is run than they do, but you can shut it. They’re your counselors and your job is to listen to them. We don’t have many rules here, but that’s a rule. And please, don’t leave the camp premises. My wards and enchantments end at the edge of camp.”
“And they don’t protect against bears,” Dean added.
“Right. Don’t get eaten by a bear. Have a good summer everyone, and I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning!”
Dean went back to his table, gulped down the rest of his milk, slamming the hard plastic cup down on the worn wood of the table. “You kids ready to go unpack yet?” he asked.
Darkness was just edging in upon the tree line as Dean led the kids down the long path to the Silver cabin. He found a reason to be pissed all over again at his reassignment, and the thought of an imaginary sign that would’ve read something like, “If you lived in the Crossroads Cabin, you’d be home by now,” flashed across his mind. The mosquitoes were out in full force, and this was going to be one annoying walk all summer.
“Anyone need some insect repellent?” asked Krissy. “I left some up in the mess hall last year. It’s still here.”
And then some kids were truly their parent’s children, and were prepared for everything. Granted, it’d been years since Dean had stayed in this cabin. It’s not like he would’ve been prepared, but bless you Krissy.
Finally back at the cabin, the kids made up their beds. There was a boys’ room and a girls’ room, that each had their own bathroom areas. Then Dean had a bedroom separating the two, but with doors direct to each, so he could basically hear if there was anything that needed counseling going on. He didn’t have his own bathroom though, needing to share with the boys, and was expected to shower in the counselors’ facilities.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad set up. And dude, the space he had as a counselor he hadn’t really thought about, but he had a dresser in here, and four walls that were his own. This was like the lap of luxury, let’s be honest. Now he was super annoyed Bobby wouldn’t let him be a counselor last year. C’mon, this is nice. Bobby was holding out on Dean, for what? A little irresponsibility? The camp was basically built on irresponsibility.
Which was why, as soon as the kids were settled, Dean grabbed a flashlight and tiptoed out, back up the path and toward the lake. He turned at the beach and rounded the lake until eyeing a disused beaver dam, then turned back into the woods about fifty paces.
Jo and Castiel were already there, a small campfire starting to kindle in front of Jo. She ducked her head down and blew lightly at the flame. “Hey Dean. Castiel brought the marshmallows, what did you bring?”
“My winning personality?”
“Ha ha,” said Jo. “Maybe you should go help him find some sticks.”
“Oh come on, Jo. It’s dark out.”
“Fine. You can roast a marshmallow on your foot, for all I care.”
Dean rolled his eyes and wondered if anyone else would show up. Anna would probably be awhile, since the older kids were usually the last to sleep. Castiel’s cabin was probably asleep, at least for tonight, but once they adjusted to camp schedule they’d be awake half the night and give Castiel a run for his money. Bobby was an idiot in reassigning them. No way some new to humanity fallen angel was ever going to tame a group of middle schoolers. They would gut him.
Dean wandered off in the direction Jo had gestured in search of Castiel, pushing branches out of his path as he went. He hadn’t gotten far. “Hey man, you finding roasting sticks?”
“Jo says they should be at least a couple feet long, and about the width of my index finger.”
“Yeah. Or the width of Jo’s index finger. Anywhere in that ballpark is good. We’ve all got knives anyway, and can carve it down a bit at the end if need be.”
“You all seem very adept at this,” Castiel said, sounding far more unsure of himself than he did when Dean was punching himself in the face. It was sort of… Well Dean liked looking out for people. It was far more agreeable than when he was trying to keep him from Sam. He had to remind himself that he hated the guy. What a jerk.
“Yeah, well we’ve all been doing this since we could walk, so a bit of an unfair advantage.”
“I have been alive since before the first creatures ever walked the Earth.”
“Okay. Well when Bobby pulls a pop quiz on pre-Cambrian science, you’re so letting me cheat off you.” Dean nudged Castiel with his elbow and shined his flashlight on a pile of brambles. “There’s a promising sight. Looks like a tree feel a couple weeks ago. I’ll cut some branches. You-“ he pointed rather bossily at the angel’s chest, “get to carry them all back. And pull the leaves off.”
“Nine days ago.”
“What?”
“That’s when the tree fell. It was a younger maple, eleven years old, and it fell nine days ago. It was doomed, however, from its fourth year, when a buck rutted its antlers against the trunk too forcefully.”
“Wonderful,” Dean rolled his eyes and scanned the woods for poison ivy, before butting his way through the underbrush with his flashlight.
Ten minutes later and Dean was leading Castiel back through the trees. The angel carried a pile of sticks with various leaves and twigs poking him in the face, as he tried to duck under limbs and branches. Dean led the way, and Jo had gotten the fire up and roaring, the flames hot on Dean’s face, leaving his back cold by comparison. Which then Castiel walked smack into.
“Oof. Sorry Dean,” he said rather sheepishly. “It was difficult to see around these branches. Where shall I put them?”
“Set ‘em by me,” Jo smiled, and Dean saw that clearly Jo and Castiel had gotten to know each other a little bit before his arrival. Jo doesn’t just talk to people in that open friendly way unless she knows them. The angel followed her direction easily, sat down, and the two of them began removing leaves and extra twigs. Dean didn’t want to just sit around with his junk in his hands, watching his friend and her weirdo buddy of the last couple days be productive, so he sat on the other side of Castiel and joined in the work.
“When’s Rufus showing up?” Dean asked. “And why don’t we have any beers open yet? We’re hunters, come on.”
Castiel kept his head bent, focused on his work, and Jo answered, “Probably in like a half hour. He said he’d be here before I even showed up, so… You know Rufus.” She got up and started digging around behind an old tree stump where she must’ve stashed a cooler earlier.
“Yeah. Cool. Did you invite the rest of the new guys, or just this schmuck?”
“Anna’s coming, but you know her cabin,” Jo tossed Dean a can of cheap beer that had probably expired a year ago. “If she can get out of there without Ash following her it’ll be a miracle. We didn’t tell Uriel. He’s kind of a stick in the mud. Figured he’d complain to Bobby.”
“Bobby knows we’re out here.” Dean downed half the can in one go and glanced back at Castiel. The angel appeared in deep concentration and hadn’t looked up.
Jo sat back down, nursing a beer of her own. “Yeah, but he pretends like he doesn’t. He might have to take a different approach without plausible deniability on his hands.”
“Like most parents are really expecting stellar supervision at this camp. Both me and Rufus’ names are on the website. And the weird brochure he’s got at the salvage yard.”
Jo laughed, and Dean noticed the angel watching her appreciatively. He couldn’t tell though, whether he had a thing for Jo, or if he just really liked it when people were laughing. Apparently it’s really difficult to read angels and figure out their motivations.
Dean got up and stocked the fire with more wood, then took a larger stick and continued poking at it aimlessly. “So what was your best hunt this year?”
“You must be joking. With all that was going on, you really thing my mother let me leave the house? It was horrible!”
“If you expect me to believe you didn’t sneak out and do something stupid at least once, then you must think I’m an idiot.”
Jo looked at him meaningfully, but resigned herself. “I chased a spirit haunting a bus halfway across the state before Mom caught up with me and hauled my ass back home. It was… Uneventful.”
“Sounds a little embarrassing,” Dean said, finishing his beer and going for another. He so wasn’t going to sit through the pleasantries of hunter-shop-talk while sober. It wouldn’t be right. Besides seriously, if this Castiel guy was going to keep silently staring at him, he was going to need to be at least tipsy, if not entirely wasted.
“Her lock down was worse than usual, Dean. I’m so fucking glad to be here, you don’t even know.”
“Tell me about it. Or, don’t. Actually. Where the hell is Rufus; there has got to be some better beer in this world.”
It was nearly a half hour, and several burned marshmallows later before the rest of the party showed up. When Anna arrived, Ash was leading the way there. A few minutes later, Rufus snuck in from the other direction. “Thank god,” said Dean, when Rufus showed up with bottle of whisky tucked under his arm. “I need a drink; you have no idea.”
Castiel eyed him curiously. “You’re already fairly intoxicated.”
Dean smirked in his direction.
“You think I brought this for you? Ah no. This… This is the good shit,” he said, then pulled held up a paper bag with three six packs inside. “Here. This stuff is the crap I bought for you bunch of freeloaders.”
“I gave you the money,” Jo said incredulously.
“Uh huh. And this is what I bought you with it. Now, what is the drama this summer? You kids have fun during the apocalypse?”
“No,” said Castiel very seriously. “It was not fun.”
“Heh, I forgot. You better have a drink of something a bit better,” said Rufus, and actually poured the angel a shot of his own Johnny Walker Blue while everyone else looked on amazed.
“What? He was on our side. That’s why he’s stuck here with all you bums, taking a summer camp gig from Bobby like it’s a handout, consolation prize. Whoo hoo, you saved the Earth. Then you get kicked out of Heaven for good and wind up with these assholes. Here,” he poured Castiel another shot. “I don’t share this stuff often, so drink up.”
“So, what did happen with the apocalypse thing anyway?” Dean wondered. “I mean, I know I got tossed an extra amount of the typical monsters in the meantime, but Dad kept me and Sammy in the dark.”
“He kept you out of it for good reason, Dean. This is one instance where you shouldn’t be bad mouthing your daddy.”
“I wasn’t!” Dean slurred defensively. “’M just curious.”
“It was Lucifer,” Ash said, gunning down one of the old beers from the cooler. Despite the fact that he was only sixteen, Ash’s particular skill set opened doors that Dean and Jo were routinely locked out of. “Tracked him across the country, but he was slippery. Never got closer than three steps behind him. And you,” he pointed at Dean, “Were a person of interest on the angels’ radar. Rufus won’t tell you that, but it’s done now so what’s the use in keeping it a secret?”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, his eyes shining at Dean. “You were a back up plan of sorts. At back up plan to a back up plan. I expect if it had come to it, the angels would’ve gone after your father first.”
Dean stared back at Castiel. The shadows of the fire flickered across his features, revealing the tiredness behind them. But he looked pleased to be where he was now, for whatever reason.
“Wait a minute, I thought the angels were supposed to be good guys,” said Dean.
“Yeah, we did too,” Ash chuckled, popping open his second beer. “Turns out they’re the ones who jumpstarted this whole thing. Or probably anyway. They were all for it.”
This subject matter was a little bleak for a first night of camp bon fire, Dean thought, missing shenanagains of years past. Where was the part where Jo took her shirt off and they all ran through the woods with sparklers taped to their hips?
“The demon Azazel technically started it,” deadpanned Castiel. “The apocalypse. But if you told me Zachariah had planted the idea in his head, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised.”
“Wow. Well this is some cheerful subject matter,” Jo interjected. “Not that I’m not curious, but do we want to spend the whole evening moping?”
Rufus shrugged. “Welcome to hunter’s summer camp.”
Jo tossed another beer in Dean’s direction. “I think Dean and Castiel should have a drinking contest. They already got in a fight today.”
“Puh!” Dean laughed. A drinking contest with an angel? He’d probably never had a drop in his life! Dean would drink him under the table. “I’m game.”
Jo and Anna smiled at each other and looked like they were restraining laughter. Which, a smarter Dean would have seen as a bad sign, but the Dean who wanted to fuck with Castiel and get him really stupid drunk didn’t notice.
Castiel carefully pulled open the tab on his beer, and Dean smirked because the idiot had already had two shots of whiskey while Dean had only had… Well three beers. But who’s counting? He opened his beer and gunned back about half of it. “Your move, angel,” Dean waggled his eyebrows in Castiel’s direction.
Castiel took his time drinking, a calm look on his face like he was just enjoying the moment. It wasn’t until Dean had gotten a bit more alcohol in his system and was feeling pretty lose that he realized he hadn’t really stopped staring at the angel’s face since the drinking contest began.
Not that that seemed to register with Castiel, who continued his calm consumption of beer, and never seemed to get any drunker. “Man Cas,” Dean nudged him with his shoulder, which threw too much weight behind it in his drunken state, and the two of them nearly toppled off the log. Castiel caught him and forced him upright. “You can really hold your booze. For an angel.”
“Yes Dean. In fact, I believe you’re behind. You owe me another drink.”
* * * *
Daily Itinerary: Silver Cabin (Week 1-4)
7:00 AM- Breakfast
7:30- Return to cabins to brush teeth, finish any daily organizing you failed to complete prior to breakfast. (It is mandatory that all campers complete personal hygiene tasks!)
8:00-9:00- Target range (Jo Harville & Dean Winchester instructing)
9:15-10:15- Arts & Crafts (Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester instructing)
10:30- Snack break
10:45-11:45- Library (Dean Winchester instructing)
12:00- Lunch
1:00- Free Choice.
Dean awoke the next morning with a pounding hangover and with Krissy splashing water on his face. “Wake up, Dean. It’s already seven-oh-two! The other kids left for breakfast!”
“Urgh, okay. ‘Mwake,” Dean mumbled into his pillow.
“Yeah, but all the bacon’s gonna be all gone.”
“Go up and get some bacon. If there’s any left. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Shit, shit, shit, Dean thought, as he watched Krissy scamper out the door. Bobby was gonna cuss him out but good, him sleeping in on his first day of adult responsibility. How this was why he didn’t want to hire him as a full time counselor, and now Dean was just proving him right, and what was he gonna do with him all summer long? Like it wasn’t bad enough to miss out on bacon. At this rate, breakfast already started and a good seven minute walk up to the mess hall, Dean would be stuck with nothing but cold cereal and maybe the dregs of some toast, if he was lucky. Not really a stellar meal to nurse his hangover.
After breakfast, Dean munched on the last of his toast as he walked with the kids back to their cabin. Just like the night before, Castiel’s group with Sammy were all already back at their bunks, and it was another reason to continue being really pissy with this entire situation, not even counting how stupidly unfair it was that the angel didn’t seem to be feeling any ill-effects from the massive amounts of alcohol he ingested. Asshole.
Dean could picture him sitting there all serenely, quietly sipping a beer while he peered at Dean through the darkness. He still had that same expression on his face and hit was making Dean seethe with hungover irritation.
On the plus side, the younger kids were probably the most fun to look after in the entire camp, whereas Castiel’s group were probably going to earn the title of smelliest and most obnoxious in no time.
“So we’ve got the target range up first, guys. I was thinking we’d start with knife throwing for the first week, what do you guys think?”
“Do we get to use our own knives?” asked Ben.
“Yeah, obviously. But by the end of the week I want you to have tried everything we have available. The whole point is you gain proficiency with a variety of weapons.”
Ed and Harry, meanwhile, seemed rather predictably freaked out at the prospect. “Real knives? I don’t think my mom would let me use a real knife.”
“Yeah,” Krissy slung an arm over Ed’s shoulders, “But your mom isn’t here. Besides, there’s a reason Ellen’s office is right next to the target range.”
“You guys’ll be awesome,” Ben grinned his patented reassuring smile. He never held back for anyone. Dean really did like these kids, when it came right down to it. They weren’t Sammy, but it was impossible not to become fond of them.
Mornings at camp were always jam packed with activities and lessons, living up to the advertised focus of the camp-becoming a better hunter. It was exhausting for the first week or so, until everyone got used to the routine. By the time snack break rolled around, Dean was already feeling wiped. And not just for the fact that the younger campers struggled so much with “arts & crafts,” which was really just a cute way of saying they practiced drawing runes and sigils, and carving sticks into points sharp enough to easily kill something. Basically any of the hands-on prep of tools that needed to be done before a hunt got practiced at arts & crafts.
“These wards themselves aren’t good for anything,” Bobby explained, passing out chalk and black construction paper. “The spells that go with these wards are very complicated, and without them what you’ve created is nothing but a strange design. However, as magical symbols go, these are fairly easy to master, and let’s start simple and work our way to more complicated things.” He flashed a picture in a textbook of an elaborate and powerful devil’s trap.
Today the kids would be drawing sigils that would ordinarily be used as wards on hex boxes. Dean put up the pictures for them to copy on an overhead, and in a display of first day excitement, everyone got right to work. And got right to being frustrated. Even Ben and Krissy, who had plenty of experience with this stuff, were desperately out of practice and found the task difficult.
“Come on you guys, I can’t find many sigils easier to draw than this.”
“Can’t we use markers?”
“You gonna use markers on a hex box? Or what if all you’ve got to work with is dirt? Or blood? You have to make due with what you’ve got, kid. Crayola’s not gonna come save your ass when the demons are calling.”
“Nice pep talk, Bobby,” Dean smirked. “Don’t concentrate so hard. Trust yourself. You’re pushing too hard on the chalk because you’re nervous, that’s why it keeps flaking that way and doesn’t look right.”
Somehow Dean’s motivation was even less successful than Bobby’s, and by ten o’clock the group was ready to call it quits. “Go run around for fifteen minutes!” Bobby yelled after dismissing everyone. “Don’t try to get snacks; they won’t be put out yet!”
“Please tell me we’re having actual snack foods, Bobby. Cookies and candy bars. And pie. Those are snacks, not the apples and carrot sticks crap you fed us last year.”
“I’m a legitimate care-taker, Dean. I need to make sure you kids don’t just eat garbage all summer.”
Dean tossed his head back and groaned.
“Nobody’s eating anything I wouldn’t eat myself. But if you think that means I’m not going to nourish you kids, you’re a bigger idjit than I gave you credit for. And today we’re having yogurt with fruit and granola, but I didn’t chose it.”
* * * *
While mornings at camp were straight to business, the afternoons were an extended playtime.
Free Choice Activities Guidelines
All campers are recommended to participate in at least three different camp related activities during their time at Camp Wendigo. Campers may switch activities at any time during the afternoon, or may stay with the same activity the whole day. Campers, your time is your own.
-Target range. Get in some more practice at the target range, with a variety of weapons available. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise this activity.
-Swimming. We always have a lifeguard on duty, whether you see them or not. Watch out! Remember to use a buddy system while swimming.
-Hiking. Get to know the woods well before the Wendigo hunt at the end of the summer! On Tuesdays there will be scavenger hunt items placed in the woods for you to find; the item list is available in the game room.
-Practice research. Information on past caes are available in the library. Follow the clues the same way another hunter once did-all the clues are at your fingertips in the library. Test your skills putting them together.
Not everything is about hunting monsters. We’re here to hone our skills, but that’s not all there is to being a great hunter, or the sort of person that anyone would want to know.
-Canoeing, boating, or water skiing. Non-senior level campers must have a counselor or junior counselor present to supervise and run this activity. Life jackets required. Must be age 16 or older to operate the boat.
-Sports activities. Civilian sports equipment is available in the spare shed. Throw together a game with fellow campers.
-Game room. Board games, cards, foosball, puzzles, and movies are available in the game room. It’s a game room; play some games.
* * * *
For the first day of afternoon activities, every kid in the Silver Cabin wanted to go swimming. Of course they did. They were like eight years old and the lake had been calling them since the moment they arrived.
“Headed to the lake?” asked Anna, after Dean had sent the kids off to change into swimsuits.
“Clearly. I’m guessing the older lot are slightly less inclined to swim for six hours.”
“Yeah. The water itself loses its appeal when you get jaded with old age. I think they’re gonna watch a movie. Except Ronald, whose actually doing that thing in the library.”
“Did I miss a memo? Is it supposed to rain? I’m sorry, but your cabin is boring as balls, Anna.”
“How’s the hangover?”
“Gone, finally.
Anna snickered. “Okay, Dean. I’m gonna go make myself available to supervise campers. You have fun with Uriel.”
Right. Uriel. The guy he hadn’t really met. But if everyone found Castiel to be agreeable and Uriel to be the asshole… This might be an interesting afternoon.
* * * *
Dean’s feet smacked loudly on the dock, his weight rocking the whole structure back and forth. “Everyone out here have a buddy?” he asked. He figured he’d be responsible. He unfolded an old lawn chair and sat down, popping open a bottle of sunscreen.
“Claire! Ben! And all the rest of you… Get your asses up here and get some sunscreen. Most of you are whiter than vanilla and you’re gonna burn in about five seconds.”
Predictably no one listened to him, and Dean rubbed in the last of the smudges of sunscreen into his nose. “Whatever, I tried. You’ll all tell Bobby I warned you and it’s your fault you didn’t listen, right?”
“What was that?” one of the older girls, Maggie, if Dean remembered right, started freaking out. Her eyes were huge. “Something just rubbed against my leg!”
“I felt it too!” yelled Andy, and stuck his face under the water, almost certainly keeping his eyes open, looking for “the lake monster.” It was a favorite game at Camp Wendigo. Everyone knew that the lifeguard duty was really the job of playing the lake monster. Once the lake monster attacked, the kids had to do whatever they could to swim safely to shore, or “kill” the monster by ripping the lifeguard’s snorkel off… Not that the task was easy. It was tied onto his face more thoroughly than usual.
Of course, everyone knew that, except probably the new kids. I mean, it was hinted at on the signs by the lake, listing the rules for swimming, and in the information given for afternoon activities, but Dean doubted anyone had said anything to them directly.
Why would they? People thinking they were getting attacked by a legit lake monster, when it was really just Uriel in a snorkel mask was hilarious. And extra awesome since the guy was clearly using some of his lingering angel mojo, and not coming up for air. Damn, even the kids who knew about this game might start to get freaked out after awhile. Dean put his hands behind his head and leaned back to watch the show.
“It touched my feet!” Maggie yelled, and started kicking and splashing, paddling her way toward the shore. “There’s something in the water!” She was never going to make it to shore, Dean thought, and looked around at the other kids.
Ed was freaking out. “That’s my sister! Maggie, swim! You guys, do something!”
Ben swam toward the dock and was assessing the situation, a slight smirk on his face, while Andy was still sticking his head under the water, trying to find Uriel in the water. Then Maggie was yanked backward, like something right out of jaws. She screamed, and was yanked again all the way under with a small splash.
Claire, who had been silent the entire time, but couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this was a game, dove for the spot where Maggie had disappeared. Andy followed suit, his face laughing. Andy was ridiculous and he loved this game. He loved swimming, and was braver in the water than he was anywhere else. He was definitely going after the snorkel.
A few seconds later, Maggie’s head popped up about ten feet away from where she’d gone under. Uriel had let her go. No one actually drowned in this game. “It… It grabbed me!” she gasped. “SWIM! GET OUT OF THE WATER!”
Harry was already standing on the beach, arms wrapped around himself. “Swim back! Swim!”
“What is it?” yelled Ed. “What is it? Dean!”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You guys are fine. Look, Ben and Andy are dealing with it. Where’d Claire go?”
Claire was swimming out to Maggie, when her head disappeared again. Claire dove in behind her.
Andy turned to Ben. “I can’t figure out where he is. He has to come up for air eventually!”
“No he doesn’t. He’s an angel, remember. They probably don’t need to breathe.”
“IT TOUCHED MY LEG! I’M GOING TO DIE,” Ed yelled. “IT TOUCHED MY-“ And then Ed was dragged under the water as well.
“Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel shouted from the shore. He and Ash were carrying several canoe paddles, but Castiel dropped his. “The children are in need of assistance!” Castiel dropped his paddles, then ran in towards all the mayhem. Ash sniggered, and dropped his armload as well before walking out to Dean on the dock.
Claire’s head popped up again, and she had Maggie in tow. Both of them were fine. “Looks like your boy doesn’t know about the lake monster game,” Ash laughed, bumping Dean on the shoulder.
“Who?”
“Castiel. Hilarious.”
“He’s not ‘my boy’,” Dean scoffed. But Castiel came back up, looking very heroic with Ed flailing in his arms. “I mean look at him. Ridiculous.”
“Uh huh,” said Ash.
Uriel stood up in waist deep water, and pulled the goggles and snorkel off his face. “What are you doing Castiel? The children are meant to learn to save themselves.”
“What?” Castiel dropped Ed back into the lake, where he sputtered and splashed around like he’d forgotten how to swim. Castiel looked almost adorable, with a baffled look on his face.
Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked, but eventually rolled his eyes and explained the situation to Castiel.
“This seems wildly irresponsible. I’m not sure that most summer camps operate this way.”
“Yeah, well. No one’s died yet,” Dean waved at Uriel. “Nice work.”
“For a cheater!” yelled Andy. “I almost had him!”
“And thus ends the most hilarious misunderstanding possible at camp. A little lackluster guys. Next year I’m gonna need you to milk the situation for all it’s worth when the newbies first get in the water.”
* * * *
Over the next couple days, everyone in camp seemed to want to canoe. Bobby put Dean and Castiel both in charge of taking the kids out. Only Castiel had only gotten one of the canoes ready yesterday, and he’d done a pretty terrible job of it. Also he’d apparently fallen out of it (which Dean would’ve paid anything to see), so the thing was full of muddy water and was upside down in the grass on the edge of the lake.
“I’m not sure I like canoeing,” Castiel crinkled his nose. “Are we certain Bobby would like me to instruct in this area? Perhaps I could be reassigned.”
“Not likely. Bobby likes everyone to get better at stuff, including the counselors. Get over here and help me get this bitch down.”
They were in the largest supply shed, which was really an old barn that had been converted to hold several canoes and kayaks, as well as a couple four-wheeler all terrain vehicles, and all the swimming and water skiing supplies. There were also several racks of weapons and gasoline. This was a camp for aspiring hunters after all, and the whole place was basically geared so you could never forget it. Even if you spent your whole afternoon water skiing and doing puzzles, your wipeout would be graded on a scale from a standard spirit salt and burn, to a vampire beheading with a chainsaw. And all of the puzzles looked like Bobby had lifted them from a haunted house somewhere.
Castiel came up behind Dean and grabbed the falling end of the canoe before it crashed down from the rafters. Dean could feel his eyes on the back of his neck, and he absolutely did not shiver at the thought of the angel standing so close to him and looking at him.
So they had maybe had a bit of a stare-off at the campfire the other night, but that was only because Cas irritated him so fucking much. But it also meant he knew just exactly how intense those eyes were watching him right now.
Together they lowered the canoe down to the floor, and moved on to the next one. “How many do you think we’ll need?” Castiel asked, and fuck if he wasn’t standing like, right next to Dean. His chin was practically brushing against his shoulder as he talked; the dude did not understand personal space at all. And Dean could fucking smell him.
“Uh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, practically elbowing Castiel in the face in the process. Serves him right, if he’s going to stand that close to people. He wanted to tell him to back off, but for some reason he also didn’t. “Probably like four or five? Depends if we put two kids in a boat or three.”
“And we are absolutely certain that I cannot simply watch.”
Dean looked at him, and he wasn’t sure, because Castiel was really weird, but he thought he saw genuine worry on his face. Like, worry for his own personal safety, which couldn’t be something that a creature used to being immortal was used to feeling. He figured he should be reassuring, even if Castiel had fucked up Dean’s entire summer. He did fall out of a canoe yesterday, and into the really mucky and kind of creepy part of the lake, full of turtles and creepy underwater shadows as the muck swirled around, and who knows what else hiding in the weeds.
It was hilarious, but Dean wasn’t that much of a dick. Not quite.
“You’ll be fine,” Dean patted him on the shoulder. “The worst that could possibly happen to you already did, and here you are, man.”
“Yes. Here I am,” Castiel agreed. “I am quite grateful that fate has led me here, after all that has occurred. There are many more undesirable places.”
Dean was pretty sure at this point, that Castiel was talking about something bigger than just tipping into the lake yesterday. “Uh. Okay. Well, good, I guess.”
“I mean to say, that very few angels chose to rebel from Heaven. Most of us didn’t have the choice. It’s very difficult to understand what choice is, Dean.” His voice was becoming more gravely as he spoke, lending more power to his words. Like just thinking about his time fighting as an angel was bringing out his more angelic traits. “I’m still not quite certain I can fathom all of the choices allotted to us with free will. It’s… Overwhelming.”
Dean just stared at him, and the angel, that fucker, stared right back. It was like Dean’s eyes were captured. But it’d be rude to look away when the guy was baring his soul or whatever. And they still had two more canoes to lift down, but Dean stayed rooted to the spot, not quite knowing what would be the best thing to do in this situation. He figured hearing the guy out was best though.
“Those of us who did rebel; most died. So I’m very lucky to be here, Dean. And I’m even luckier that I am amongst hunters who know of the apocalypse and what happened. It is much more relatable.”
“Do you regret it? Rebelling from Heaven, I mean. That seems like kind of a big deal.”
“Never. Once I began to doubt, there wasn’t a better path. It was a choice, but it was in many ways the only choice. If I was true to myself, which was also something angels aren’t used to understanding.”
“Hmm. Well, we should probably get these canoes and paddles out-“
“There is no way to escape the guilt though, you are right. I have regrets. When I fell and started on the path to becoming human, my vessel’s soul was sent away. Without my grace holding it together, the body can’t contain us both.”
“So, that’s a vessel you’re possessing?” Dean looked incredulous. Castiel looked like a human guy, so it wasn’t a large leap to make that he wasn’t in his true form. He was a lean guy, but still strong looking, probably about twenty-two or twenty-three years old.
“Yes. He actually prayed for it. But I don’t think he expected the full consequences of it.”
“So he’s dead.”
“Yes. He was Claire’s uncle. He’s dead.”
Dean gulped. There was a huge amount of sadness behind Cas’ eyes, he could see that now. And okay, it was a pretty big deal why he and Castiel had to switch cabins.
“I see how she looks at me, so I can’t forget the pain I’ve caused in the world.”
“But you saved the world a greater pain. More suffering, right? I mean, I didn’t… I didn’t help with the apocalypse stuff, but from what it all sounds like…”
The door to the barn slammed open and Sam stood there, framed in the sunlight from outside. Dean could only recognize him by his silhouette. “What’s the hold up? Are we gonna even make it across the lake today?”
Dean smiled and waved Sammy over. “Yeah, c’mon and help us get the canoes down.”
Sam rolled his eyes, because it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to reach, but he bounced over anyway, and started pulling out the paddles. Castiel pulled Dean by the arm, so he would stop looking at his brother, and could continue in their task.
Twenty minutes later they were all out on the water. Claire and Sammy were in Dean’s boat. Ben and Andy got stuck with Cas, and they were extremely vocal over their concerns the angel would flip them.
“Hey look, Castiel! A duck!” shouted Sam, trying to get him to turn to quickly.
Castiel looked to Dean. “Just ignore them,” he mouthed silently, and Castiel did. So when they all got back to shore, and Castiel was still dry and unharmed, Jake and Krissy had to race back ahead of everyone, then wade out and dump his boat.
Castiel coughed and sputtered, lake muck running down his face from where it matted down his hair. Everyone was laughing, and Dean was wheezing so hard he didn’t think he’d ever breathe again, but he felt a little guilty while Cas was looking so much like a kicked puppy. He tried to be game though, and faked a laugh. Castiel was really bad at pretending to laugh, as it turned out.
Part Two