𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖘 || 𝘥. 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳

𝟎𝟎𝟗 ⌖ who you blame

black water ridge, colorado
nov. 12, 2005 // late afternoon

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆-𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 hero indeed. What a strange sensation, for him to feel like the morally sound person for once in his life. Sammy had always been so compassionate, understanding, stupidly kind and empathetic, and Dean had come to terms with that fact a long time ago. That he'd have to protect his brother for as long as he lived, because he didn't want Sammy or that love of his to die.

And now Sam was nowhere to be found, and the last person who had seen him was the one person Dean didn't think he'd have to protect his brother from. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Sam left a trail of M&M's from the bag Dean had pawned off to him, hopefully leading Hailey and the two hunters to where he'd been taken. And for all the help that had been, they were still egregiously unarmed. Hailey now wielded the flaming staff, with Dean toting Fitz's silver hunting knife. Fitz was entirely weaponless, with a piece of her shirt pressed against her head to stem the blood from her temple. She'd smeared her jacket and face with mud and moss to disguise the smell of her blood. Dean hadn't even thought of that, and it made him uneasy. He kept his distance, lest he succumb to the urge and actually follow through with the anger that coiled around his fists and thrumming heart.

After some three hours of relentless tracking, they stumbled across a dilapidated old mine. Its undulating tin roof was covered in ivy and moss, with old wooden planks nailed over the entryway. Warning!, the sign read, Danger! Do not enter! Extremely toxic material! Overhead, there was a much older wooden sign that said Keep Out: No Admittance.

Fitz blew right past both signs, following the brightly-colored chocolates like a bloodhound. Dean expected he'd have to coax Hailey to follow, but the woman brushed past him and ducked into the entrance not a second after. Dean headed up the rear, blade held out tentatively.

Hailey illuminated the way with the torch, catching dim reflections on the mine's cavernous walls. The flickers cast shadows where they shouldn't have been, setting Dean's teeth on edge. At the first sign of a wendigo — a low growl — Hailey tossed her torch into one of the trenches beside the rusted rails and listened as it fizzled out. The three of them ducked around a corner and pressed to the cave wall, quieting down until they could hear water dripping from a nearby stalactite.

In the dim light from the crossroads, they saw the wendigo's silhouette, lumbering about, head swinging side to side. Once it disappeared from sight, they quickly hurried along, further into the mine.

"Flashlight?" Dean whispered into the muggy air.

Fitz tapped her windbreaker a few times, and a small light flickered to life just over her lapel. She took the lead, hand still gingerly on her ribs, following the candy trail down the passageways until it suddenly stopped. She glanced back at Dean and Hailey, perplexed.

She took another step forward, and the wood beneath them creaked loudly. The ground fell out from underneath their feet, sending them plummeting ten feet down. It wasn't a far fall, but they landed hard. Fitz slapped her own hand over her mouth to muffle a cry of pain.

Hailey gasped and scrambled towards Dean and Fitz. They were surrounded by hundreds of disassembled skeletons: skulls, ribcages, tibias and radii and femurs.

"It's okay, it's okay," Fitz breathed, sitting up and wincing. "I think this means we're..." she glanced behind Dean and Hailey to see two figures dangling from the ceiling. "...close."

She lurched forward towards Sam and Ben, strung up with ropes knotted around their wrists. She couldn't tell if they were dead or just unconscious. Dean and Hailey rushed past her before she could check their pulses.