Bite Chatper 4/10
In this chapter:
Keeping secrets, Sammy takes a tumble, and I know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop.
Runner up at Sensue.net
Chapter Four
Half an hour into their research, Sam heard the thunk of Dean’s head hitting the table. He looked up from the newspaper records he’d been reading through and saw his brother sitting up straight, a hand to his forehead, his eyes blinking tiredly. The book in front of Dean was slowly closing itself, the page Dean had been “reading” the past ten minutes becoming lost among its comrades. Sam was sure it wasn’t a big loss for his brother. He doubted Dean had even read a word in that book. Sam snorted when Dean started grumbling and flipping through the pages again, trying to look busy.
John had left them a while ago to check out the symbols drawn on the doors of the victims’ houses. Sam had given up on finding any news of wolf attacks. The closest thing he had found was a dog biting a teenager four years ago. But there had been witnesses and a court case and the dog was euthanized. Definitely not a werewolf. So Sam had busied himself reading the articles about the missing persons. He wasn’t really finding that many connections. There was one thing, however, that interested Sam. Three out of the five people who had gone missing were last known to be going into the woods to do some sort of outdoor activity. Sam was starting to think maybe this had something to do with those woods. He tried not to let the fact that the woods was a natural habitat for werewolves sway his interpretation of the facts.
“Finding anything interesting?” Sam called, knowing he was being a smart ass, but he couldn’t resist the chance to poke fun at his brother. It wasn’t often he was given the chance.
Dean shot a glare his way, but didn’t say anything as he settled back down onto a page, elbow on the table, head resting on his hand. Even as Sam was watching him it looked like Dean was having trouble staying awake. He couldn’t blame him. His brother probably hadn’t gotten any sleep the previous night except for the few winks he got in between his last bout of sickness and the time their Dad had woken him up. And though his brother could hide it well enough when John was around, right now it was clear as day that Dean was sick. He looked almost gray and his eyes were half closed. In the past half an hour, Sam had lost count how many times Dean had taken his jacket off only to put it back on again a few minutes later. One minute his brother would sweat, the next he’d shiver. God, the flu sucked.
“I think you should tell Dad,” Sam blurted when Dean looked up at him again.
His brother rolled his eyes and sat up, taking a breath and leaning back in his chair. “I thought we already talked about this,” he said tiredly.
“We have,” Sam agreed. “But Dean, you have the flu. You should be in a bed somewhere, sleeping.”
Dean’s eyes closed and Sam was surprised to see the smile that formed on his pale lips. “I wish,” he groaned. When his eyes opened again, the smile faded. “After we finish this hunt, I’m going to sleep for a week.” He’d meant it as a joke, his eyes prodding Sam to laugh with him, to see things his way. Sam wouldn’t be swayed.
“You should sleep now,” Sam said sternly.
Dean let out a harsh laugh. “And have Dad find me sleeping on the job?” He waved a hand at him. “No way. I value my life.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, getting frustrated. Dean was such a dumb ass sometimes.
“I know,” Dean said quietly, sighing again and running a hand over his face. When it came away, he looked more alert. “And I already told you no. I’m not letting you guys do this on your own.”
“Why?” Sam asked incredulously. “We can handle it. I know I’ve never been up against a werewolf before, but Dad’s gone up against plenty. The world’s not going to end if you miss one hunt.”
Dean held up a hand, stopping whatever else Sam had to say. He gave him a look before licking his lips and saying, “I’m done arguing with you. I’m going, that’s final.” Sam had to stifle a smile as he realized just how much Dean sounded like Dad right then. That’s all this world needed, another John Winchester running around barking orders. Sam knew the personality trait ran in the family and he could only hope that he’d been spared from receiving the gene.
Sam sighed but went back to reading anyway. If Dean said no arguing, then Sam wasn’t going to argue, especially not in a public library. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Knowing Dean, who seemed to lack the ability to feel embarrassment, he would probably jump over the table and throttle his younger brother without a second thought. Sam would spare him. But just this once.
Shortly after that, John came back and sat down at the table the brothers had claimed. Both of them looked up, taking in their father’s sideways smirk and partially furrowed brow. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and threw it onto the table in the middle of his sons.
“What is that?” John asked them, though it was obvious he knew the answer. He was merely testing his boys.
Sam leaned forward and took a look at the paper. It was a pencil rubbing of the marks that had been on the doors. It was a symbol of some sort, with a few extra marks carved in here and there. Sam looked across the table at Dean, who was frowning at it. Sam decided to try and answer the question before his brother could. He looked at John.
“A Pentagram,” he said. John turned and smiled at him, nodding slightly. Sam couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yes,” John agreed and glanced at Dean, who was still staring at the paper. When Dean’s eyes came up, John elaborated. “More precisely, it’s the mark of the wolf.” Sam felt the excitement build up in him again.
Dean reached forward and took the paper, bringing it closer so he could get a better look at it. “You got this off the doors?” he asked, not looking up.
“Yup,” John said, glancing at Sam, still smiling.
“So it is a werewolf then?” Dean asked, looking defeated. John nodded and Dean gave the paper back with a sigh. “Great. A regular dream come true.” Dean’s voice was flat and he put his head in his hands, looking across the table at his brother. Sam was actually surprised. Normally Dean loved hunting. He usually jumped at the chance to take down baddies, to fight off evil. He’d never seen his brother look less enthusiastic about a hunt. He wondered if it was just because he was sick and didn’t want to take on a werewolf, of if it was because he just didn’t like werewolves in general.
John reached out and clapped Dean on the back. Sam didn’t miss the way his brother flinched, but John hadn’t been watching. “There’s one thing, however,” John said and looked at Sam. “I’ve been trying to figure out why these were carved into the doors.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
John handed him the paper and Sam took it, giving the symbol a closer look. He engraved it into his mind, knowing that undoubtedly he’d see it again in the future. John went on. “Usually that’s carved into bodies, or painted on walls with blood. I’ve never seen it carved into doors, especially if the victims are still missing. Werewolves don’t give themselves away like that.”
Sam looked up at his father, realizing John expected him to come up with something. Luckily, a thought had come to mind. “Well, sometimes serial killers leave calling cards,” Sam suggested. “This werewolf might have an ego trip going on, and leaving these symbols could be his calling card.” John looked thoughtful before he nodded, accepting the answer.
“That’s a good thought,” he said and Sam beamed. He felt silly for feeling so happy over such a simple compliment, but he couldn’t help it. He spent so much time fighting with his Dad that whenever John actually said something to praise him, it was like getting the best gift in the world. John looked at the books piled on the table. “Did you find anything here?” he asked.
Sam glanced at Dean, who was staring worriedly at the book in front of him, hoping to find something last minute to give to his father. Sam took pity. “Actually, we did,” he said, watching as Dean’s head shot up to look at him. Sam smiled coyly at him, showing Dean that he owed him big time for this. “Three of the victims were last seen going into the woods. The other two disappeared without knowing where they were going. And…” Sam reached for another pile of newspapers to his right. He found the one he was looking for and threw it in front of his Dad. “I don’t think the body count is only five.”
“What?” John asked, taking the newspaper. He started reading through it.
“There have been at least three other disappearances from the neighboring towns. No symbols, but, one of the missing person’s car was found in the parking lot of the campsite in the same woods the others went missing.” Sam watched his father’s brow raise and then he looked up at his son. Sam waited to either be praised or shot down. “What do you think?” he asked hesitantly.
“I think,” John said, handing the newspaper back to him. “That I’m going to have you do the research more often.” Sam grinned. He looked over at Dean, who winked at him. “It’s a good theory,” John said again, nodding. “Great theory, but we won’t know for sure until we’re out there.”
“Well, the next full moon’s not for another couple of weeks,” Sam pointed out.
John nodded. “I know, but that’s the other thing that’s been bothering me,” John pointed at the newspapers. “Did you happen to see the dates when these people went missing?” Sam shook his head. “Not all of them went missing on a full moon. So either we’re dealing with an extremely powerful werewolf who can change at will or this guy is catching his victims when he’s not in werewolf form.”
“So,” Dean spoke up and had to clear his throat when his voice caught. “What, we’re going to go out there and use Sam as bait to lure him out?” Sam glared at his brother, who just grinned at him. “He looks tasty enough.”
“Yeah right,” Sam spat. “I’m skin and bones. You’ll probably be the first one it bites into.” It was Sam’s turn to smile as Dean glared at him.
“Neither of you is going to be bait, or get bitten for that matter,” John said firmly, making both of them turn to look at him. “It’s got to have a killing ground, so we’re going to find it.” John stood up. “We’re going camping.” Sam and Dean both groaned.
A few hours and several stops to outdoor sporting goods stores later, the Winchesters were setting up their camp. Sam was glad that their Dad had actually decided to spring for a good tent and warm sleeping bags. Usually they’d just rough it, or sleep in the car. Camping with John hadn’t always been the most pleasant experiences in their life, that was for sure. When they were kids, they used to go all out. But John had grown out of that, probably when they’d stopped camping for fun and started camping for hunts.
Sam finished unrolling his sleeping bag next to Dean’s and climbed out of the tent. John had set up a chair next to a tree by the tent, obviously not planning on sleeping. Or if he was, he’d do it sitting up with a shotgun on his lap. Dean was loading a handgun with silver bullets.
“We should do some scouting around,” John said and Sam turned to face him when he heard the shotgun cock. He tossed Sam a handgun he already had ready. Sam caught it and slipped it into his jeans, pulling his shirt over it to conceal it. “Ready?” he asked. Sam nodded. “Good, we need to do this before it gets dark.” Then he turned and headed away from the campsite. Sam looked over at Dean.
“Come on, Little Red,” Dean said. “Let’s go catch Big Bad so we can get the hell out of here.” And then Dean disappeared after his father. Sam just sighed and quickly followed after him.
For the first bit of their scouting, Sam was anxious and ready. He stayed in between his father, who was leading, and Dean, who was bringing up the rear. He kept touching the gun by his side to make sure it was still there and still accessible. He was excited. But after a bit, that excitement started to fade and he felt his tense shoulders relax slowly. Eventually, he grew bored and when Dean started humming, “Whose Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,” Sam grew frustrated. This was ridiculous. They were getting nowhere. And when after what seemed like hours upon hours of just walking around, Sam decided to voice his opinion.
“We’re not finding anything,” he said, watching as his father turned to look over his shoulder at him. “I don’t think there’s anything out here.”
“We’re not done looking,” John stated sharply.
Sam sighed in irritation. “Don’t you think we would have found something by now if there was actually something to find?” When John ignored the comment, Sam bit his lip and continued. “What are we even looking for? What do you expect to find that the police haven’t?”
At that, John turned around. “The police don’t know what to look for.”
“Well neither do we,” Sam countered.
John’s face took on a look of anger. “We’re looking for anything that shows us we’re dealing with a werewolf.”
Sam threw up his hands. “There’s nothing out here!” he complained. “No claw marks, no paw prints, not even a single drop of blood. This is ridiculous. We should go back and talk to the families. Maybe we’re just jumping to conclusions thinking it’s out in these woods.”
“It was your theory,” John growled. “We’re not done here, so just shut up and keep looking.” When Sam didn’t move, John kept staring at him. Sam was ready to retaliate when Dean came up to his side and put a hand on his shoulder, making Sam break the fierce gaze he had locked on his father.
“If the Odd Couple is done fighting,” Dean said, earning him a glare from both his brother and his father, which he promptly ignored. “I’d like to point out that there is a seriously foul smell in the air and if we don’t either move or find something fun to look at, I’m going to blow chunks.”
John straightened at that and held his chin up a bit, sniffing the air. Sam mocked the motion without noticing and smelled what his brother had caught a whiff of. He instantly crinkled his nose as he recognized the smell. Decomposition. Fleshy decomposition for that matter. Sam glanced over at his Dad and saw John was now sniffing the air, trying to follow the scent like a hound so he could find the source. Sam looked at his brother and saw that Dean hadn’t been lying about the blowing chunks part. His brother was breathing through his mouth, trying to stand perfectly still, as if moving would dislodge whatever was in his stomach and send it shooting out his mouth. Sam decided he didn’t want to be in the immediate vicinity when that happened.
Taking a few steps in the direction his Dad was now headed, he sniffed the air too, noticing the smell was getting stronger. John started slowly turning to Sam and as Sam took another step, he noticed that the density of the ground beneath his feet suddenly changed. He looked down, frowning. He brushed away some of the dead pine needles and leaves with his shoe and then tapped his foot. He was surprised to hear the hollow sound of wood beneath his feet.
Sam looked up to tell his father what he’d found when there was a sudden groaning beneath him. John’s head shot towards Sam and the two caught the terrified looks on each other’s faces before the ground beneath Sam’s feet suddenly gave way and the youngest Winchester disappeared beneath the earth with a horrified yelp.
“Sam!” John and Dean yelled at the same time, running to the spot where Sam had disappeared. Dean pushed back his urge to vomit as he fell to his knees and looked into the gaping hole that had swallowed his brother. The smell was horrible and even though he was breathing through his mouth, he could almost taste it. “Sammy?” Dean yelled again, feeling frantic when his brother didn’t answer.
“Sam, answer dammit!” John yelled, his voice angry but also worried.
After a few seconds, Sam’s voice drifted up. “I’m okay,” he said, though he sounded strange. When he said his next sentence, Dean understood why. “I think I found the bodies. Or…what’s left of them.”
John took off his jacket and pulled out a flashlight, shining it down. The light caught Sam and they saw that he was covered in mud and leaves, but relatively unscathed. He looked disgusted however. “Hang on, we’re coming down,” John called.
“We are?” Dean asked, looking at their father.
“Yes,” John answered, not in the mood. He tied his jacket to a root sticking up near the hole and then lowered himself down. Dean sighed and did the same, struggling severely to hold back the sickness rising in his throat.
Once they were both standing next to Sam, the three took a look at their accidental find. John shone his flashlight around and Sam let out a slow breath, utterly disgusted. There were random body parts laying around the muddy hole. A hand here, leg there, even a couple skulls that had been skinned. Sick. Sam looked at his Dad and saw that John’s face was passive, but he was clearly just as disturbed as the rest of them.
Sam didn’t even have to look at his brother to see what he thought as he heard Dean go to a corner and wretch. John flashed the light at him and frowned but then went back to looking at the body parts. Sam watched Dean for a moment, seeing him take in deep, shuttering breaths trying to recollect himself. He knew the sickness wasn’t all attributed to the smell and gore. His brother had been fighting off the urge to vomit all day.
Dean suddenly stopped and got down on one knee, reaching out for something in the darkness. Sam could see the confused look on his face. “Dean?” Sam asked, going over to him. “What is it?” he asked, crouching next to his brother, seeing Dean had picked up what he supposed had been an arm at one time. He didn’t know how his brother could touch the thing, let alone pick it up and examine it. His brother was crazy.
John must have felt the same way as he came over and immediately said, “Put that down.”
But Dean didn’t listen, instead he looked at both of them with a grin. “Hey, Sammy,” he said at last and Sam frowned at him. His brother was losing it. “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?” Dean asked. All right, his brother had lost it. Where were the men in white? Someone bring a straight jacket.
“What?” John asked.
Dean looked back at the arm and titled his head. “One, two three…” He trailed off and looked at Sam to fill in the rest. Sam just looked at him, convinced Dean was hallucinating or something. Dean’s eyes went between Sam and John and then he snorted and made a biting motion with his teeth. A light suddenly clicked on inside Sam’s head.
“You found a bite mark?” he choked out, leaning forward, joining his brother in the close examination of the body part.
“Sure did,” he said and pointed it out. John knelt down as well to get a closer look, shining the light to where Dean was pointing. “Those aren’t wolf bites,” Dean said, looking at John.
Sam frowned. They sure weren’t. “I’ve never seen bite marks like those,” he said, shaking his head.
“I have,” John sighed and reached to take the arm from the boys. As he pulled it back, between their heads, both flinched away from the mysterious dripping substance coming off the arm. Sam didn’t want to know.
“You have?” Sam asked as John’s face took on a disgusted look and he sighed again. “Where?”
“Human anatomy, 101,” John looked at them seriously. “They’re human.”
Go to Chapter Five
Keeping secrets, Sammy takes a tumble, and I know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop.
Runner up at Sensue.net
Chapter Four
Half an hour into their research, Sam heard the thunk of Dean’s head hitting the table. He looked up from the newspaper records he’d been reading through and saw his brother sitting up straight, a hand to his forehead, his eyes blinking tiredly. The book in front of Dean was slowly closing itself, the page Dean had been “reading” the past ten minutes becoming lost among its comrades. Sam was sure it wasn’t a big loss for his brother. He doubted Dean had even read a word in that book. Sam snorted when Dean started grumbling and flipping through the pages again, trying to look busy.
John had left them a while ago to check out the symbols drawn on the doors of the victims’ houses. Sam had given up on finding any news of wolf attacks. The closest thing he had found was a dog biting a teenager four years ago. But there had been witnesses and a court case and the dog was euthanized. Definitely not a werewolf. So Sam had busied himself reading the articles about the missing persons. He wasn’t really finding that many connections. There was one thing, however, that interested Sam. Three out of the five people who had gone missing were last known to be going into the woods to do some sort of outdoor activity. Sam was starting to think maybe this had something to do with those woods. He tried not to let the fact that the woods was a natural habitat for werewolves sway his interpretation of the facts.
“Finding anything interesting?” Sam called, knowing he was being a smart ass, but he couldn’t resist the chance to poke fun at his brother. It wasn’t often he was given the chance.
Dean shot a glare his way, but didn’t say anything as he settled back down onto a page, elbow on the table, head resting on his hand. Even as Sam was watching him it looked like Dean was having trouble staying awake. He couldn’t blame him. His brother probably hadn’t gotten any sleep the previous night except for the few winks he got in between his last bout of sickness and the time their Dad had woken him up. And though his brother could hide it well enough when John was around, right now it was clear as day that Dean was sick. He looked almost gray and his eyes were half closed. In the past half an hour, Sam had lost count how many times Dean had taken his jacket off only to put it back on again a few minutes later. One minute his brother would sweat, the next he’d shiver. God, the flu sucked.
“I think you should tell Dad,” Sam blurted when Dean looked up at him again.
His brother rolled his eyes and sat up, taking a breath and leaning back in his chair. “I thought we already talked about this,” he said tiredly.
“We have,” Sam agreed. “But Dean, you have the flu. You should be in a bed somewhere, sleeping.”
Dean’s eyes closed and Sam was surprised to see the smile that formed on his pale lips. “I wish,” he groaned. When his eyes opened again, the smile faded. “After we finish this hunt, I’m going to sleep for a week.” He’d meant it as a joke, his eyes prodding Sam to laugh with him, to see things his way. Sam wouldn’t be swayed.
“You should sleep now,” Sam said sternly.
Dean let out a harsh laugh. “And have Dad find me sleeping on the job?” He waved a hand at him. “No way. I value my life.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, getting frustrated. Dean was such a dumb ass sometimes.
“I know,” Dean said quietly, sighing again and running a hand over his face. When it came away, he looked more alert. “And I already told you no. I’m not letting you guys do this on your own.”
“Why?” Sam asked incredulously. “We can handle it. I know I’ve never been up against a werewolf before, but Dad’s gone up against plenty. The world’s not going to end if you miss one hunt.”
Dean held up a hand, stopping whatever else Sam had to say. He gave him a look before licking his lips and saying, “I’m done arguing with you. I’m going, that’s final.” Sam had to stifle a smile as he realized just how much Dean sounded like Dad right then. That’s all this world needed, another John Winchester running around barking orders. Sam knew the personality trait ran in the family and he could only hope that he’d been spared from receiving the gene.
Sam sighed but went back to reading anyway. If Dean said no arguing, then Sam wasn’t going to argue, especially not in a public library. He didn’t want to cause a scene. Knowing Dean, who seemed to lack the ability to feel embarrassment, he would probably jump over the table and throttle his younger brother without a second thought. Sam would spare him. But just this once.
Shortly after that, John came back and sat down at the table the brothers had claimed. Both of them looked up, taking in their father’s sideways smirk and partially furrowed brow. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it and threw it onto the table in the middle of his sons.
“What is that?” John asked them, though it was obvious he knew the answer. He was merely testing his boys.
Sam leaned forward and took a look at the paper. It was a pencil rubbing of the marks that had been on the doors. It was a symbol of some sort, with a few extra marks carved in here and there. Sam looked across the table at Dean, who was frowning at it. Sam decided to try and answer the question before his brother could. He looked at John.
“A Pentagram,” he said. John turned and smiled at him, nodding slightly. Sam couldn’t help but smile back.
“Yes,” John agreed and glanced at Dean, who was still staring at the paper. When Dean’s eyes came up, John elaborated. “More precisely, it’s the mark of the wolf.” Sam felt the excitement build up in him again.
Dean reached forward and took the paper, bringing it closer so he could get a better look at it. “You got this off the doors?” he asked, not looking up.
“Yup,” John said, glancing at Sam, still smiling.
“So it is a werewolf then?” Dean asked, looking defeated. John nodded and Dean gave the paper back with a sigh. “Great. A regular dream come true.” Dean’s voice was flat and he put his head in his hands, looking across the table at his brother. Sam was actually surprised. Normally Dean loved hunting. He usually jumped at the chance to take down baddies, to fight off evil. He’d never seen his brother look less enthusiastic about a hunt. He wondered if it was just because he was sick and didn’t want to take on a werewolf, of if it was because he just didn’t like werewolves in general.
John reached out and clapped Dean on the back. Sam didn’t miss the way his brother flinched, but John hadn’t been watching. “There’s one thing, however,” John said and looked at Sam. “I’ve been trying to figure out why these were carved into the doors.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
John handed him the paper and Sam took it, giving the symbol a closer look. He engraved it into his mind, knowing that undoubtedly he’d see it again in the future. John went on. “Usually that’s carved into bodies, or painted on walls with blood. I’ve never seen it carved into doors, especially if the victims are still missing. Werewolves don’t give themselves away like that.”
Sam looked up at his father, realizing John expected him to come up with something. Luckily, a thought had come to mind. “Well, sometimes serial killers leave calling cards,” Sam suggested. “This werewolf might have an ego trip going on, and leaving these symbols could be his calling card.” John looked thoughtful before he nodded, accepting the answer.
“That’s a good thought,” he said and Sam beamed. He felt silly for feeling so happy over such a simple compliment, but he couldn’t help it. He spent so much time fighting with his Dad that whenever John actually said something to praise him, it was like getting the best gift in the world. John looked at the books piled on the table. “Did you find anything here?” he asked.
Sam glanced at Dean, who was staring worriedly at the book in front of him, hoping to find something last minute to give to his father. Sam took pity. “Actually, we did,” he said, watching as Dean’s head shot up to look at him. Sam smiled coyly at him, showing Dean that he owed him big time for this. “Three of the victims were last seen going into the woods. The other two disappeared without knowing where they were going. And…” Sam reached for another pile of newspapers to his right. He found the one he was looking for and threw it in front of his Dad. “I don’t think the body count is only five.”
“What?” John asked, taking the newspaper. He started reading through it.
“There have been at least three other disappearances from the neighboring towns. No symbols, but, one of the missing person’s car was found in the parking lot of the campsite in the same woods the others went missing.” Sam watched his father’s brow raise and then he looked up at his son. Sam waited to either be praised or shot down. “What do you think?” he asked hesitantly.
“I think,” John said, handing the newspaper back to him. “That I’m going to have you do the research more often.” Sam grinned. He looked over at Dean, who winked at him. “It’s a good theory,” John said again, nodding. “Great theory, but we won’t know for sure until we’re out there.”
“Well, the next full moon’s not for another couple of weeks,” Sam pointed out.
John nodded. “I know, but that’s the other thing that’s been bothering me,” John pointed at the newspapers. “Did you happen to see the dates when these people went missing?” Sam shook his head. “Not all of them went missing on a full moon. So either we’re dealing with an extremely powerful werewolf who can change at will or this guy is catching his victims when he’s not in werewolf form.”
“So,” Dean spoke up and had to clear his throat when his voice caught. “What, we’re going to go out there and use Sam as bait to lure him out?” Sam glared at his brother, who just grinned at him. “He looks tasty enough.”
“Yeah right,” Sam spat. “I’m skin and bones. You’ll probably be the first one it bites into.” It was Sam’s turn to smile as Dean glared at him.
“Neither of you is going to be bait, or get bitten for that matter,” John said firmly, making both of them turn to look at him. “It’s got to have a killing ground, so we’re going to find it.” John stood up. “We’re going camping.” Sam and Dean both groaned.
A few hours and several stops to outdoor sporting goods stores later, the Winchesters were setting up their camp. Sam was glad that their Dad had actually decided to spring for a good tent and warm sleeping bags. Usually they’d just rough it, or sleep in the car. Camping with John hadn’t always been the most pleasant experiences in their life, that was for sure. When they were kids, they used to go all out. But John had grown out of that, probably when they’d stopped camping for fun and started camping for hunts.
Sam finished unrolling his sleeping bag next to Dean’s and climbed out of the tent. John had set up a chair next to a tree by the tent, obviously not planning on sleeping. Or if he was, he’d do it sitting up with a shotgun on his lap. Dean was loading a handgun with silver bullets.
“We should do some scouting around,” John said and Sam turned to face him when he heard the shotgun cock. He tossed Sam a handgun he already had ready. Sam caught it and slipped it into his jeans, pulling his shirt over it to conceal it. “Ready?” he asked. Sam nodded. “Good, we need to do this before it gets dark.” Then he turned and headed away from the campsite. Sam looked over at Dean.
“Come on, Little Red,” Dean said. “Let’s go catch Big Bad so we can get the hell out of here.” And then Dean disappeared after his father. Sam just sighed and quickly followed after him.
For the first bit of their scouting, Sam was anxious and ready. He stayed in between his father, who was leading, and Dean, who was bringing up the rear. He kept touching the gun by his side to make sure it was still there and still accessible. He was excited. But after a bit, that excitement started to fade and he felt his tense shoulders relax slowly. Eventually, he grew bored and when Dean started humming, “Whose Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf,” Sam grew frustrated. This was ridiculous. They were getting nowhere. And when after what seemed like hours upon hours of just walking around, Sam decided to voice his opinion.
“We’re not finding anything,” he said, watching as his father turned to look over his shoulder at him. “I don’t think there’s anything out here.”
“We’re not done looking,” John stated sharply.
Sam sighed in irritation. “Don’t you think we would have found something by now if there was actually something to find?” When John ignored the comment, Sam bit his lip and continued. “What are we even looking for? What do you expect to find that the police haven’t?”
At that, John turned around. “The police don’t know what to look for.”
“Well neither do we,” Sam countered.
John’s face took on a look of anger. “We’re looking for anything that shows us we’re dealing with a werewolf.”
Sam threw up his hands. “There’s nothing out here!” he complained. “No claw marks, no paw prints, not even a single drop of blood. This is ridiculous. We should go back and talk to the families. Maybe we’re just jumping to conclusions thinking it’s out in these woods.”
“It was your theory,” John growled. “We’re not done here, so just shut up and keep looking.” When Sam didn’t move, John kept staring at him. Sam was ready to retaliate when Dean came up to his side and put a hand on his shoulder, making Sam break the fierce gaze he had locked on his father.
“If the Odd Couple is done fighting,” Dean said, earning him a glare from both his brother and his father, which he promptly ignored. “I’d like to point out that there is a seriously foul smell in the air and if we don’t either move or find something fun to look at, I’m going to blow chunks.”
John straightened at that and held his chin up a bit, sniffing the air. Sam mocked the motion without noticing and smelled what his brother had caught a whiff of. He instantly crinkled his nose as he recognized the smell. Decomposition. Fleshy decomposition for that matter. Sam glanced over at his Dad and saw John was now sniffing the air, trying to follow the scent like a hound so he could find the source. Sam looked at his brother and saw that Dean hadn’t been lying about the blowing chunks part. His brother was breathing through his mouth, trying to stand perfectly still, as if moving would dislodge whatever was in his stomach and send it shooting out his mouth. Sam decided he didn’t want to be in the immediate vicinity when that happened.
Taking a few steps in the direction his Dad was now headed, he sniffed the air too, noticing the smell was getting stronger. John started slowly turning to Sam and as Sam took another step, he noticed that the density of the ground beneath his feet suddenly changed. He looked down, frowning. He brushed away some of the dead pine needles and leaves with his shoe and then tapped his foot. He was surprised to hear the hollow sound of wood beneath his feet.
Sam looked up to tell his father what he’d found when there was a sudden groaning beneath him. John’s head shot towards Sam and the two caught the terrified looks on each other’s faces before the ground beneath Sam’s feet suddenly gave way and the youngest Winchester disappeared beneath the earth with a horrified yelp.
“Sam!” John and Dean yelled at the same time, running to the spot where Sam had disappeared. Dean pushed back his urge to vomit as he fell to his knees and looked into the gaping hole that had swallowed his brother. The smell was horrible and even though he was breathing through his mouth, he could almost taste it. “Sammy?” Dean yelled again, feeling frantic when his brother didn’t answer.
“Sam, answer dammit!” John yelled, his voice angry but also worried.
After a few seconds, Sam’s voice drifted up. “I’m okay,” he said, though he sounded strange. When he said his next sentence, Dean understood why. “I think I found the bodies. Or…what’s left of them.”
John took off his jacket and pulled out a flashlight, shining it down. The light caught Sam and they saw that he was covered in mud and leaves, but relatively unscathed. He looked disgusted however. “Hang on, we’re coming down,” John called.
“We are?” Dean asked, looking at their father.
“Yes,” John answered, not in the mood. He tied his jacket to a root sticking up near the hole and then lowered himself down. Dean sighed and did the same, struggling severely to hold back the sickness rising in his throat.
Once they were both standing next to Sam, the three took a look at their accidental find. John shone his flashlight around and Sam let out a slow breath, utterly disgusted. There were random body parts laying around the muddy hole. A hand here, leg there, even a couple skulls that had been skinned. Sick. Sam looked at his Dad and saw that John’s face was passive, but he was clearly just as disturbed as the rest of them.
Sam didn’t even have to look at his brother to see what he thought as he heard Dean go to a corner and wretch. John flashed the light at him and frowned but then went back to looking at the body parts. Sam watched Dean for a moment, seeing him take in deep, shuttering breaths trying to recollect himself. He knew the sickness wasn’t all attributed to the smell and gore. His brother had been fighting off the urge to vomit all day.
Dean suddenly stopped and got down on one knee, reaching out for something in the darkness. Sam could see the confused look on his face. “Dean?” Sam asked, going over to him. “What is it?” he asked, crouching next to his brother, seeing Dean had picked up what he supposed had been an arm at one time. He didn’t know how his brother could touch the thing, let alone pick it up and examine it. His brother was crazy.
John must have felt the same way as he came over and immediately said, “Put that down.”
But Dean didn’t listen, instead he looked at both of them with a grin. “Hey, Sammy,” he said at last and Sam frowned at him. His brother was losing it. “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?” Dean asked. All right, his brother had lost it. Where were the men in white? Someone bring a straight jacket.
“What?” John asked.
Dean looked back at the arm and titled his head. “One, two three…” He trailed off and looked at Sam to fill in the rest. Sam just looked at him, convinced Dean was hallucinating or something. Dean’s eyes went between Sam and John and then he snorted and made a biting motion with his teeth. A light suddenly clicked on inside Sam’s head.
“You found a bite mark?” he choked out, leaning forward, joining his brother in the close examination of the body part.
“Sure did,” he said and pointed it out. John knelt down as well to get a closer look, shining the light to where Dean was pointing. “Those aren’t wolf bites,” Dean said, looking at John.
Sam frowned. They sure weren’t. “I’ve never seen bite marks like those,” he said, shaking his head.
“I have,” John sighed and reached to take the arm from the boys. As he pulled it back, between their heads, both flinched away from the mysterious dripping substance coming off the arm. Sam didn’t want to know.
“You have?” Sam asked as John’s face took on a disgusted look and he sighed again. “Where?”
“Human anatomy, 101,” John looked at them seriously. “They’re human.”
Go to Chapter Five