Chapter Text
“You boys are never going to guess what I just found out.” Dean Winchester had woken up to the sound of his Led Zeppelin’s Ramble on ringtone with his face in a musty smelling pillow, to match the rest of the room and heard a voice coming out of his other cell phone.
Well, his other other cell.
“Good morning to you too.” Dean said groggily, sitting upon the lumpy mattress in room 17 of the Odd Fellows Motel in El Paso, Texas. A glance over at Sammy’s bed against the opposite cracked, once white wall told him breakfast was on its way.
Another glance around told him he was alone and as safe as a Winchester could get. All that was there was an old, broken lamp, a small TV that only shows static, and a faded red pull our couch missing most of it’s stuffing across from the door, who it’s cracked paint left a flurry of paint flecks behind you whenever you opened it
‘Hopefully burritos’ he thought, moving towards the cramped bathroom ‘you can’t be this far south and not have some good Mexican food.’ He set the phone down for a minute while he splashed water from the little sink on his face to wake up. Of course he let the water clear up from the rusty pipes first.
“Yea, yea, good morning Sunshine.” Bobby said sarcastically when Dean put the phone back to his ear and squeezed out of the bathroom. ‘Once you’re in, your in.’ he thought. He fumbled around for the gun under his pillow, checking to make sure it was loaded with rounds of rock salt. Then he checked the one under Sam’s pillow for regular rounds “But…”
“Bobby,” Dean cut him off after a glance at the clock. Even though half the LED lights were out he could still make out the time “it’s like, 5am.”
“I know but…” Bobby tried again
“And you can’t blame it on time zones again either,” Dean griped “We’re in the same one.”
“Dean,” Bobby said, patience wearing thin
“We just got done clearing a nest of vamps a few hours…” Dean started
“You've got a sister.” Bobby said bluntly, obviously tired of being interrupted
“…ago and, wait, what?” Dean’s rant came to an abrupt halt, confused.
“If you would let me talk, I would have told you by now ya idjit.” Bobby said, irritated
“I’m listening,” Dean sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. He needed a drink and hey, it was five o’ clock. No one said it had to be 5 in the afternoon. He headed for the rusty fridge where they had found a barely recognizable carton of milk when they arrived. Even the cardboard had mold on it.
“Apparently you have sister, or at least that’s what the government official told me,” Bobby said “a real government official,” he amended, obviously thinking of the fake ID’s hidden in his panic room “She’s been living in the foster system for years, moving from group home to group home.”
“So wait, uh.” Dean had so many questions he didn’t know which to ask first.
“Let me finish boy,” Bobby reprimanded, so Dean just popped the top off his beer “An official from the Department of Orphan Care called, apparently a Christina Cormack has Leukemia and needs a blood marrow transplant. So the DOC entered a sample of her DNA into the system, and it came up with you two boys as the closest DNA match. My number was still on your paperwork as your godfather, so when they couldn't get a hold of you or your daddy they called me.” Bobby finished
Dean scoffed “Doesn't this sound a little fishy to you?” he questioned once he had wrapped his mind around what Bobby was telling him. He looked up when Sam opened the door to their motel room, greasy bag of fast food in one hand and coffee in the other. Sam immediately knew something was up and gave Dean a questioning look.
Dean held up a hand to stop Sam from voicing the question already forming on his lips.
“It smells like the damn Boston Harbor, but if something is going to this much trouble to get you boys, then it’s gotta be worth checkin’ out. She, or whatever it is, is in Houston, if you leave now you should be there around three.” He said
Dean sighed leaving the kitchen. “Why should we go after it? If this thing wants to kill us Bobby, why not make it come to us?” he didn’t mean to sound so angry, but damn it he was tired of stuff trying to kill them.
“Because if it is after you, you want to meet it when you’re ready, not let it be a surprise attack. And Dean,” Bobby’s voice got quieter “what if it really is you boy’s sister, and not a trap?”
“Dad was hooked on finding Mom’s killer for years,” Dean said stonily, taking another swig of his beer “he never went out, he never even looked at another women.” Dean was now resigned and fully awake and stuffing cloths into a bag. Sam, seeing this followed suite, giving Dean that look again. Dean held up a finger.
“Maybe not when you were around, but he was known to get drunk from time to time.” Bobby’s sarcasm was evident, and Dean blew air out of his nose in agreement “There is a chance she’s actual your sister, or have you forgotten Adam?”
“Yeah.” Dean answered somberly, remembering his other brother who was still in hell. In hell at all because of him, if he had been a little faster, Adam might have been occupying the under stuffed pull out couch in the corner.
“Well then you should know damn well better than anybody what family means.” Dean grabbed his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans while Bobby continued “Yeah they don’t have to be blood but it sure helps. Just go and if she turns out to be our specialty , just treat it like any other job, but we don’t leave family behind.”
“Yeah,” Dean said resigned, looking down and thinking of Adam “we’ll call you when we get on the road for more information to find her.”
“Okay,” Bobby said “You boys be careful out there”
“Aren’t we always careful?” Dean asked cheekily, to cover up the catch in his throat.
Bobby groaned “Just go ya idjit.” And hung up
Dean did the same and turned to Sam “We’re eating on the road.” he said, grabbing his coffee and downing it.
“Why, what’s up?” Sam asked
Dean grabbed his baby’s keys off the coffee table that had obviously been at the receiving end of a dog’s excitement and paused “ I…I don’t have a good answer,” he said honestly, shouldering his bag “but I’ll explain in the car.
“Could it be a Wendigo?” Sam asked, voicing an idea for about the 13th time since Dean had told him everything Bobby said, each theory getting more and more unlikely, the minutes ticking by till they had to face this thing. He had been staring out the window with his laptop on his lap for the past couple of hours as the flat desert slowly shifted to rolling hills
“Since when has a Wendigo been seen south of Minnesota?” Dean took his eyes of the straight and narrow road stretching far ahead of them to look at his little brother.
‘Not so little anymore, he barely fits in Baby.’
“Even that’s an uncommon for them, they mostly hole up in Canada. Isn’t it a bit risky for them down south? Not a lot of old mines to make their lair in down here.” He continued, eyes returning to the road to pass the one car they had seen for miles.
“But since when has a Wendigo cared about risk when it’s hunting?” Sam shot back, sipping his now cold coffee “They are starving all the time Dean.”
‘Literally.’ Sam thought
Dean chuckled nervously, swerving to avoid a pothole. He knew what it was like to be starving. When they were little and their dad would leave them in a hotel for weeks, he would give what little food they had to Sam and eat what was left on his plate when Sam went to bed. Sometimes there wasn’t any left. The crappy, to salty, to little meat burritos they had eaten this morning would have seemed like a thanksgiving feast to him then “Still seems a little farfetched to me.” He said, unsure, pulling his mind away from that memory. He had never told Sam that, and he wasn’t going to today.
“Okay,” Sam looked down at the laptop “Wendigo have been known to enter cabins and other dwellings, unlocking them from the outside and slaughtering the inhabitants, then proceeding to turn the cabin into its own lair.” Sam read “When a Wendigo hunts, it stalks the victim for long periods,” He looks back up, at Dean “What if we didn’t kill the one back in Blackwater, and what if it decided it wants Winchester for its next lunch?”
“Dude,” Dean growled, glaring at the road ahead, annoyed “I shot the thing myself.”
“Yeah, but with a flare gun” Sam said “It sometimes works, because they live in cold climates, but the only sure fire way to kill a Wendigo is to use silver.” He thought about it
‘No pun intended.’ He chuckled
Dean looked at him funny, but then decided to let it go “We would’ve gotten a call from Shaw saying the ‘bear attacks’ have started again.” Dean adjusted the air conditioning, still skeptical. Man, this 109 degree heat was killing him... and it was September.
“What else could it be Dean? What if we didn’t get a call because it moved further south?” Sam closed his laptop and looked at his older brother “And Dean, that one’s not the only Wendigo out there.”
“Anything else odd going on in Houston?” Dean asked finally happy with the tempture “Anything else to give us a clue?”
“Yeah, get this.” Sam said, doing that stupid hand thing that Dean sometimes hated, sometimes loved, where he just tossed them up and held them there while he talked, usually around his laptop keyboard. “Coyotes and birds of prey have been sited more often than usual,” He said “those have been known to travel with Wendigos.”
“Okay,” Dean relented “that does sound a little like one, so silver knives?”
“Probably bullets,” Sam responded “Remember how fast the one in Blackwater was.” He reached for his bag and slid his lap top in, zipping it closed.
“All right,” Dean said “So Wendigo.”
“Wait, maybe it’s a ghoul,” Sam sighed, reaching to pull his laptop back out
“Only eight more hours to go.” Dean sighed as well, and leaned forward and turned up AC/DC’s ‘Problem Child’ that was coming through the radio.
Sam groaned.