Shh-shh

Shh-shh

There it was again. Sam's hand clenched around the iron of the crowbar, his knuckles going white and his veins tensing under the stress.

No one said anything, the twins' eyes were wide, mouths agape with baited breath; Dean was inbetween steps, one hand ready to jerk Sam backwards at a moments notice, the other making sure the kids didn't come any closer than they currently were. "Stay back," he murmured, voice deep and wary. They nodded slowly in fear.

Shh-shh

Shh-shh

In a flash of movement, Sam whacked the bush aside and struck home, preparing to strike again as soon as he got a reaction. But the only thing that appeared in his field of vision was what he least expected and he raised an eyebrow, confused. "An...owl?" Dean closed his eyes and spun the other direction, swearing silently.

Mabel, however, was instantly rushing past Dean and toward the bird, a giant smile on her face of recognition. "Maraca Owl!" She said, excitedly, hugging it tightly.

"Shh-shh," it replied, shaking the musical instrument as if speaking to her. Dipper crossed his arms.

"So that's it?" He asked in disbelief, facing his sister then Dean, who was still slightly pissed. "We've been stalked by and stalking an owl?"

Sam shrugged, crowbar hanging loosely at his side. "Paranoia does strange things to your nerves," he said. He turned toward his older brother, gesturing toward the darkened forest path. "Shall we go on?"

Dean said nothing, flicking on his flashlight with a huff. "Yeah. Let's go."

The owl hopped onto Mabel's shoulder, shaking the Maraca once more.

"Shh-shh," it said.

-THEME SONG-

The moon seemed to stare back at Dean as he raised his eyes briefly from the forest, watching a shooting star fly across the sky.

He felt weary, his legs almost dragging in the dirt though they couldn't have been walking for more than an hour. And there was something else that was bugging him, deep within his gut. It was almost strange, the feeling he had. It was a very strange thing, in fact . . . as though they were being watched. Again. But that's impossible, he told himself, glancing back to look at the twins; they were calm and fairly collected. Then he looked ahead at Sam, whose flashlight flung the shadows back from the pathway; he was focused and not at all worried. Is it just me? Am I the only one slightly uncomfortable in this setting?

Once more he snuck a look at moon above, and he narrowed his tired, hazel eyes at it, anxiously. It seemed to shine back defiantly, as if challenging the Winchester to find anything wrong with it. Finally, he nudged his brother and went up to his ear, whispering. "I don't like this forest, Sam. It give me the creeps. How much further do you think the fire was?"

Sam, who was only half awake, mumbled back, "I don't know, Dean. We've been trudging along too long for me to tell at this point." He shrugged, the second time this evening. "Give us a few more minutes. If we don't find the place within that span of time, we'll turn around."

"Fine by me," Dean said and fell away to his previous position.

When he did, however, Mabel's bird pal, Maraca Owl, shook it's musical instrument -- Shhhhhhhhhhhhh it said -- which he'd put up with it most of the trip. This particular shake made him snap, and he swung to face the wide eyed night bird in a huff. "Alright, listen up you-" he began, stopping Mabel with a surprised expression on her face, in her tracks. Sam and Dipper watched quietly, too out of it to stop him.

But in that moment, Dean Winchester spotted a thin wisp of smoke drifting through the trees behind them and the flash flood of anger and paranoia faded away. He pointed and grinned. "Would you look at that," he said and put his arm around Sam who had stepped to see what the fuss was about, "the last of the smoke."

Dippers eyes lit up, the sleep vanishing. Groping through his pocket, he tugged something out, holding it high. The boy waved Rain's phone in the air, dashing into the night and the general location of the smoke. "Come on!" He called, and the rest of the group followed quickly in pursuit.

Bursting through a section of forest, they arrived at the charred remains of what used to be and had been a small, wooden shack.

The entire porch had been practically incinerated, leaving a wide gaping hole into where the door might've resided. About twenty feet away, the actual door handle lay in the scorched earth, moonlight reflecting off its surface. Coming closer, everyone could see small, orange and red glowing embers breathing their last toward the centre of the fire. The walls had crumbled to bits, only the edges of the foundation still standing, though burnt completely black. If one were to touch them, it seemed as if they would collapse even further. With that, Dipper made his way over and poured the last drops of water from his water bottle onto the burning ashes. What was left of the smoke slithered into the air, snaked its way up a foot or two, then disappeared.

Sam clapped suddenly, startling everyone. He coughed. "Sorry. Anyways, let's spread out and look for clues. When everyone has something they think is useful, meet back here at this doorknob. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Mabel said, saluting and rushing toward the ruins, the owl clinging to her shoulder desperately. Dipper and Dean nodded slowly, making their way over to different parts of the house.

Shuffling to what was left of the walls, Dean bent down to run a hand along their charred edges. He hummed Metallica quietly to himself, thinking. Who would go to such a reckless action to cover their tracks? Grant had done it, yes, but clearly, it wasn't Grant in control. The question then remained: who was calling the shots? The Winchester rubbed some black rubbish between his fingers, watching it fall. As the specks hit the ground, he noticed what looked like words carved into the walls and his curiosity was piked. "What have we here . . .?" he murmured, breaking off into silence.

Bloodlust...
Bloodless...
Bloodstained...

And on and on it went, the carvings all somehow relating, in some way, to blood. "What the hell?" Dean muttered, tracing the letters outline, carefully, letting caution envelop him for once. "I guess I found my clue," he said and stood, making his way to his brother.

Dipper and Mabel weren't far behind. Mabel held her evidence up proudly, handing it to Sam. "I found a match," she said, then brushed off her sweater and rubbed her arms. "Hurry up, Dip-Dip and Deano 'cause I'm cold."

Her brother shrugged, consenting. He was rather chilled too, so he handed Sam his piece. "A stainless steel Swiss Army knife," he began, adjusting his cap and also rubbing his arms, "don't know what for or why . . ."

Dean stepped in. "I can answer that, for you Dipper. More or less, anyway." He cleared his throat and pointed to the shack. Or, what was left of it. "See the walls? The foundation of them?" The others nodded. "Okay, well, there's some carvings in them. They all have to do with blood somehow-" -the twins' faces contorted to a frown- "yeah, it's nasty, I know. But I think that's why the knife was there. To scratch those words into the walls for whatever reason that may be. Whether this Grant is insane or not, he wrote those words. We've got to find him before he does something like this again. His knife is our only real lead."

"True," Sam agreed. "As for me, I found the leftovers of a kerosene bottle scattered all over the property. Looks like Grant set this place aflame and let the explosion take care of the rest."

"Seems legit," Dipper commented. His sister glanced at him and he held up his hands, pleading not guilty as a joke and smiled. "Well, it does." She laughed and punched him in the shoulder while the Winchesters grinned a little themselves. Sometimes kids were good to have around, to keep the mood up. As long as they were safe, however. If they weren't safe, then everything was downhill and not good.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh

Then, without a sound, Dean grabbed Sam's arm. He wasn't hallucinating this time: he'd heard it for sure. And this hadn't been the first time he'd heard it, either. "Sam, we're in grave danger."

Sam looked at him quizzically, but held up the crowbar. "Dipper, Mabel," they looked at him.

"Yeah Sam?" Dipper wondered, clutching his book tighter as he noticed Dean's hand on Sam arm. He frowned. "What's . . . What's going on?"

"If I'm right," Dean said, nervously glancing backwards into the woods, "and I hope I'm not, because we've only encountered one of these before and that was long ago, then we need to get you two to the middle of those cabin remains and we need to do it now."

Fear set in as the twins made a run for it and stepped against the south side wall, holding each other's hands for support. Was it a monster? It didn't sound as if it was something they'd fought before, because Dean thought he knew what it was. In that case, they could count themselves out for this fight. Sam saw Dipper and Mabel exchange a glance; he knew they didn't like that.

"Okay, Dean," Sam drew him away from the shack but kept his eyes on it all the same, his grip on the crowbar tightening for a second time that night. "What's going on? Is it was I think it is?"

"If it is, all we can do is run but running is fairly irrelevant in this case."

"So, then, it's-"

"Yes, Sam. It's gotta be a Wendigo. It's been following us ever since we set out, probably, but didn't take any of us because I think it's a little more cautious than the last one we encountered. I have no idea why it might be in Gravity Falls, that's what's bothering me. However, what we need to do is coax it out and-" Dean paused. He heard it again. Sam heard it too.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh

They both looked up, slowly, deliberately and carefully.

A skullish, humanoid looking but not quite, creepy face stared down at them from the trees above. It grinned, it's arms and legs clinging to the branches.

And then it leaped.

It's speed was so inhumanly fast that the brothers leapt back, barely escaping its swipe. It hit the ground but wasted no time in scampering away into the shadows. Breathing heavily, Sam and Dean made eye contact. They didn't have a lot of options, here, and it was making them nervous. The impala was too far; no flare guns were available nor a flamethrower, sawed-off shot guns wouldn't do the trick. The only thing they had, and it would hardly do a dent, was the crowbar.

"And to top it off," Sam concluded, peering into the forest, worried, "if we did run, it would pick us off one by one. That's worse than standing our ground but neither end is sounding particularly amazing at the moment."

"Fire," the older Winchester remarked, and pointed to Mabel's match that stuck out of Sam's brown hunter jacket. "We've got to think on our toes, so if we can find a way to light the son of a bitch on fire-" he produced a box of matches from his own back pocket and mustered a determined grin, "then we win." A pause. Silence. Dean tossed the small, red, box to his younger brother, gesturing to the twins who continued to shiver in the open but somehow still protective walls of the cabin. "Spread the wealth, Sammy!"

Sam Winchester, balancing the metal in one hand and managing to seize the matches with the other, jumped away and hurried over to the kids, handing Mabel the box. "I want you to be careful since we have no other options so do exactly as we say: take those matches and find pieces of unburnt wood. We're going to draw it closer, if we can, and you throw the wood, using it as burning projectiles. Hit it even once and the things a goner, understand?"

Both nodded in total seriousness. "Got it," they echoed as one.

"Good. Now, until we trap it, stay hidden." They vanished, ducking under some wood scraps. He made his way to his brother and they stood, quietly, silently, scared but unwilling to admit it, in the dark, alone.

Part of the problem, and something the two had realised early on, was that even if they wanted backup, the only backup the could count on was the twins uncles. And although they were fit and fierce, the less people involved, as they had stated before, the better. And even if Ford or Stanley made it to the Impala, Dean couldn't remember where the flare guns were and there was no guarantee that the monster wouldn't attack either of them on their way to the cabin.

The plan even now involved too many 'ifs' to be comfortable.

-COMMERCIAL BREAK-

"C'mon," Sam groaned after a good while of waiting, a little frustrated. The Wendigo wasn't showing and it made him anxious. He shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze sweeping across the moonlit forest floor.

Dean, a match in hand, was humming, though ever time Sam's gaze swept over him with a questioning look, like, Dean, what the hell? he shrugged it off as if he were completely silent. Then, just when both were halfway to dropping their guard down, it struck.

With lightning speed and unforgivable claws, it landed in front of Dean, grinning hideously.

When Sam tried to whack it in the face with the crowbar it swivelled, with almost an annoyed feature crossing it's face. The crowbar was jerked out of his hand and a backslash connected to the younger Winchester's chest. Sam flew backwards, landing on the ground with a grunt that sounded painful.

The creature grinned again - knowing without a doubt that it had the upper hand - it's eyes glinting murderously. For the second time it vanished; toying with its prey was a much better deal than killing them instantly.

"Sam!" By now, Dean had gone closer to the cabin, his match lit, but the way it had toyed with Sam had made him angry. This plan was lame. Someone was gonna get hurt and he wasn't going to let it be his little brother. "Are you alright?"

The wind knocked out him, Sam attempted to breathe but didn't see blood. He gave a thumbs up as the monster hid in the woods again. "I'm just swell," he mumbled, dropping his head to the clearing floor and letting his limbs relax.

"Great. That's great," Dean muttered in reply, edging closer to the ruined remains of the cabin where Dipper and Mabel had missed the entire 'attack of the ugly jerk' scene. He called out to them in a loud whisper for their attention. "Hey! Dipper! Mabel!" Their heads poked out from behind a blackened wall, their faces hidden in the shadows. He didn't know how to explain what had just taken place so he held up his own match for them to see. "It's coming," he mouthed. If it was as smart as it seemed, he didn't want to alert it to their plan. "Be ready." The twins nodded and ducked back under cover.

This is it, Dean thought. Everything we've fought, everything we've done . . . it's all been for crap. If we'd been more careful or even thought about the possibilities we wouldn't be in this mess - I can't believe this. His muscles tensed and he frowned, glaring at the forest in front of his frame and wished the Wendigo could read his mind for once. Get your ass out here you son of a bitch or I'll get help from heaven above so help me!

And that's when Dean made his gravest mistake.

In his anger, he turned away to calm down and his eyes left Sam who had just gotten up.

In that moment, that singular second, it arrived and took Sam before he could hardly even scream a word of warning.

Dean heard the scramble behind him however and spun around in horror, only to watch Sam be dragged into the dark shadows of the night.

His heart pounded against his chest, his breathes came out in heaving gasps.

Sam.

It'd taken Sam.

Whose fault was it now? A voice taunted Dean inside, doing its best to snatch away any hope he had left.

"I will get you back, Sam," he swore, ignoring the voice.

Refusing to let the same scenario happen to the kids, he backed up to the cabin and beckoned them to him.

He took a deep breath.

"Alright, listen up. Here's the plan . . ."

----

Crunch.

Snap.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Crunch.

As it left, Sam groggily opened his eyes. He held back a groan that threatened to spill from his lips; he could feel what felt like a thousand cuts and scrapes stinging all over his face. Once things slowly came back to focus he took in his surroundings. He wasn't very surprised to find that this hideaway wasn't much unlike the previous Wendigo's cave. Dank, musky walls and a series of exits and entrances. Thankfully, however, he couldn't see any bones on the cavern floor so this home had to be a relatively new home for the monster. He hoped it would stay that way.

Assuming the only reason he was alive was because he was bait for the twins and his brother, he thought about his options.

Well right now I can't move whatsoever . . . A pause. My matches are out of reach or lost . . . Another pause. But I can't just wait here!

And yet, as the minutes drug by, he waited.

----

Mabel, though extremely serious, grinned and clutched the walkie-talkie, pressing the button and spoke into it, eyes shining with excitement.

"Operation Rescue Moose, aka, Sam Winchester, begin!"

There was a pause, then Dipper's voice, uncertain and shaky. "Did I hear you correctly, Mabel? Operation Rescue Moose?"

"Yeah," she said, and went on a minute long explanation that Dean, on the third borrowed walkie-talkie from Dipper's pack, tuned out.

"Hang in there, Sammy," he muttered. Taking in a sharp breath, he pressed the button that connected him to the twins. "Are you two in position? I hate to drag you into this but a job is a job and as much as I'd like to do this alone, it's safer if you're with me while this goes down--"

"Dipper in position from behind the tree," Dipper called in, cutting Dean off. "Over and out. Mabel?"

"Mabel in position from behind a rock, Dip Dop and Deano. All clear?"

"When it's clear, you'll know," Dean growled into the mic. He waited a moment, brushed aside the doubts and hesitation welling up inside his gut, and dove out into the open clearing, the moonlight rays brushing his cheek through a pinewood tree's branches.

With not a second to lose, he refused to look back, dashing to the pitch darkness of the cave. Flicking on his flashlight, he held his breath and waited for the Wendigo's skullish and reaper-like face to peer out at him from any nook or cranny. But it didn't. Everything was silent and instead of a monster, before him opened two paths that split off to the right and the left. He heaved out a sigh, calling in on the walkie-talkie. "I-It's clear. So far." He shone his light on the left hand path; a deer skull glared back at him, as if angry for disturbing it's resting place. He shrugged a sorry, and again spoke. "Yeah. Come on in. If it comes back, I don't want you two out there alone. Hustle. Oh, and be as quiet as possible, alright?"

"Alright. We're-"

"On our way! Here we come Moose!"

Dean chuckled softly.

When they arrived, he made a shh, gesture and pointed to the right path. "This way. No noise, no nothing. Let's get this done without any trouble."

Silent agreement passed between each person present before they stole silently towards the right tunnel, Mabel clutching a flashlight and her brothers hand, Dipper a tight grip on his journal and Dean's jacket and Dean himself with the second black flashlight in his left hand and a match held in fingers that itched to strike it on the right hand.

When they found him, Mabel clearly couldn't help but let out a squeal of joy. "Moose! I mean, Sam! You're okay!"

Hanging from the ceiling with a very strange type of chords or rope that had bound him at the wrist, was Sam. Scratches covered his face and he seemed to have what-probably-would-become a black eye, as the skin was swollen and dark. His clothes were torn as well and his hair was as messy as a rats nest. In spite of all this, he sleepily glanced up at them, taking in his rescue party with a tired grin. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming to get me."

His older brother grinned back. "What, are you kidding? Of course we came to get you! Who the hell wouldn't?"

However, any reply or exuberant phrase that may have been said was cut short as Dipper suddenly froze and grabbed Mabel, who was in the act of tossing the flashlight. Dean stopped too and Sam, a horrified realization crossing his face, whispered urgently to his brother. "It's back! Cut me down now or we won't have another chance!"

Whipping out his handy-dandy pocket knife, Dean did just that. He caught Sam as he dropped and turned to motion to Dipper and Mabel but his breath hitched when he heard the twins screaming.

"Dean!"

The Wendigo had landed before them from its position on the ceiling, apparently having snuck up as silent as the grave. It's yellow eyes gleamed nastily, and it bared it's bloody fangs.

Closer it came, savoring each scared second spent in its presence.

Closer....

Nobody dared move, except Dean, who struggled to light his match...

Closer....

It's maw opened, drool dripping from its tongue to the dusty cave floor...

Dean struck the match and hurled it, a last resort....!

Clos--

A bang.

Whoosh!

The monster was unexpectedly enveloped in flames that danced a beautiful red, yellow, orange tint. Heat seared the twins and they scrambled away from the blaze, hurtling towards the Winchesters for protection. The Wendigo let out an anguished, tortured shriek and melted to ashes that fluttered harmlessly to the floor, the fire dying at last.

Dipper said what everyone was thinking, his breaths coming out rapidly from the shock. "W-who . . .?"

"Well, well, well."

A mysterious, unknown and ambitious though frightening voice echoed off the walls and the group turned as one to witness a figure shrouded in shadows. The male form was distinguishable but no particular aspect could be seen save his eyes. They were a distinct blood red and shone evilly. No one could see his smile either, and yet everyone knew without a doubt that he was smiling. "Winchesters. Pines," he greeted, cordially. But although his words were like honey, they held a hidden venom that begged to poison an innocent victim. "I guess you owe me, now, wouldn't you say?"

Dean was the first to reply. "You didn't have to step in, you smug bastard."

"No," snapped the other. "I suppose not. But how much fun do you think I'd be able to have with rotting corpses? That's right, zero. And now with that pleasant thought that you owe a psychotic murdering pyromaniac, I bid you adieu."

"Now wait just a minute-" Sam grunted, attempting to stand. He groaned and gave up, slipping back into Dean's grip.

The man turned, laughing a mirthless, despicable laugh. "You'll get your turn, Sammy, just you wait."

And as he walked off, the Pines completely silent and Dean seething with anger holding a worn out Sam, Mabel had the sense to shine her light on the retreating figure. His red hair reflected off the glare and she dropped the flashlight with a dull thud.

Dipper gasped for her. "It's Grant!"

"No," said Sam, gritting his teeth and shaking his head, "that's not Grant."

----

His voice sank into a growl and his hands clenched into fists.

He looked each one of them in the eyes . . . which was saying a lot because there were quite a few in the group. He repeated his words, but this time he did it slowly. He wanted to make sure they heard every word. Wanted to make sure they did everything right. He was tired of seeing failure. Tired of every last one. Tired of not seeing results.

And he was running out of time.

"Did you hear me? I said-"

The leader, arms crossed and dark, icy eyes narrowed hissed back, annoyed. "We heard you the first time, fleshbag. You don't need to tell us twice, alright?"

Another chimed in, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Yeah, you heard him," she snapped, and stepped to the leader's side. She cracked her knuckles and smiled. "You don't doubt us, do you? That would be one hell of a mistake, my friend."

He faced her, fury ripping from his gaze. He snarled, a frown etching itself into his already angry features. "I have my reasons." A long pause. Tension rippled between the two. "Just get it done."

Nods. "As you wish. But don't forget our deal; we don't do this sort of thing for just anyone. After all, revenge is a powerful lever, don't you agree?" the leader replied, a veiled threat seeping from his teeth. It went unnoticed, however, and the leader bowed his head, loose black hair falling into his face. "They'll be dead before they blink."

Finally, he allowed himself a smile.

A tight, satisfied smile. His red, bloodshot eyes glinted.

And he laughed.

"Good."

----

A streetlight flickered.

At first, nothing was there. The streets were empty, as they should be at this time of night.

Then, without any sort of warning, someone appeared.

They themselves practically flickered into existence, leaning against the streetlight in a calm, collected manor, a shadowy mist dancing around their form.

The figure wore a black vest over a yellow button-up coat of some kind, along with a black bow tie. Black shorts finished off the look, and one might even say he looked classy. A young Jim Moriarty in disguise, perhaps? That question would be cut short, however, due to the fact that he had messy blond hair with a single, strange, piercing eye that was narrowed menacingly. His left was covered with a simple black eyepatch. His feet tapped impatiently . . . Was he waiting?
Yes. Yes he was.

His head raised and his eye met two red ones. He didn't dare grin but his eye lost its critical look and turned to curiosity. He waited for the other to speak.

The other did after a pause.

"So get this," he said.

-CREDITS-

______________________
A/N:

Somewhere around me as I'm in my house alone: the lights flicker
Me: sick stranger things reference

Anyways, hey guys! Wow, so, I am clearly?? not on a consistent updating schedule which I apologize for; I'll try to update every two weeks on Sunday evenings because I feel like that's something I can stay consistent with but my point is: woah holy shiitake mushrooms I've updated and boy does it feel good. I'm building (and have been since the beginning) up to the season finale which, though for you it may be quite a few weeks, is coming closer and closer and I hope I can live up to the hype ahh man I'm so excite.

However, since I've paused watching SPN and I've been decking onto Naruto (I know, I know rip me life is too short to watch Naruto but AnYWaYs), I feel as though I might not be as accurate? I'm definitely trying my best, believe me, but stuff happens, y'know? So if I'm like, messing up something and you're like, L, woah woah woah. The frickin' heck you think you're doing? That character wasn't in character and they would never say that, don't you know? Then let me know! I'll for sure get to changing it and I appreciate the help!

(First one to say 'I' if you're reading this right now will get an honorable mention in the next chapter and for those who aren't first be chill, say I, and I'll be happy to do a book cover or whatever cause hey why not) So here's the part where if you're glad the Wendigo is gone, if you can't wait to see who my OC in this story is, and if you need some updates, then please comment, vote or share! It'd make my day guys, seriously.

{Song of the chapter: LA Devotee by Panic! At the Disco} because I can

Have yourselves a good day but above all, let's go kill some evil jerks, shall we?
Styx