Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,4

behind the peaks, painting the clouds a dazzling red and gold. Sam drifted in and out of sleep.

The car crested a hill and the lake suddenly came into view, a deep sapphire-blue pool amid the snowy peaks. Dean let his mind drift, and it inevitably took him to Castiel. The angel had resurrected Dean, and had then become his friend, fought side by side with him and Sam. Next to his brother and Bobby, Cas was the closest thing Dean had to family. He couldn’t believe he was gone. Sometimes the life of a hunter made him feel like he was destined to lose everyone too early. Ellen and Jo, his mom, his dad.

The job could make a person crazy. He knew Castiel had been dealing with huge issues—the silence of God, a war in heaven, the apocalypse—but he could have talked to Dean. They would have figured it out together. Cas didn’t have to make a deal with Crowley, the King of Hell. He didn’t have to swallow all those souls from Purgatory and become the Heavenly equivalent of an unstable nuclear reactor. Now his friend was gone, torn apart by the ravenous Leviathan too powerful to contain, even for an angel. Right now, somewhere out there, the Leviathan were growing stronger and stronger, duplicating person after person, posing as doctors, entrepreneurs, scientists, politicians. Dean and Sam stared down the barrel of a new Armageddon, hot from the oven, that once again threatened to destroy life as they knew it. And Dean didn’t have the belief he once had, that unfailing knowledge that they could tackle whatever came at them. He’d lost that somewhere along the road.

Damn it. Why did Cas have to do that? They could have used him in the upcoming fight, used his power and knowledge. But Dean missed more than that. He’d told Cas once that he was like a brother to him. Fat lot of good that had been in the end.

They descended into the lake basin, driving past steep cliffs. Out on the lake’s surface, white caps crested and fell. They drove through the town of Incline Village and entered California, passing through King’s Beach. Dean kept an eye out for good eateries. They turned north and drove through Truckee, once the most dangerous city in California, full of gunfighters and lynch mobs. As night fell and “Free Ride” by Edgar Winter played on the radio, they rolled into the small town of Emigrant Gap.

With only one main street, it wasn’t too hard to find Bobby. Dean spotted his van parked outside the Ritzert Roadhouse.

Sam stirred awake and they got out and stretched. A cold breeze sighed through the pine trees, the unmistakable scent of snow on the wind. Dean breathed in the high-altitude air, smelling earth and wet pine trees. Sam gathered up the case research he’d collected and they entered the grill.

Bobby Singer sat at the bar, a shot of Maker’s Mark in one hand. He leaned over a newspaper, making notes in a small notebook. His red flannel shirt and worn jeans were rumpled, and the blue, netted baseball cap on his head was just as soiled and beat up as ever.

“Bobby!” Dean greeted him.

Bobby turned on the barstool, taking Dean’s hand and patting him on the shoulder. He did the same with Sam.

“I was wondering when you idjits were going to show up.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Bobby,” Sam said.

Bobby motioned toward the empty barstools next to him. “Take a load off.”

They sat down, Dean ordering beers all round.

Bobby pointed to the newspaper he was reading. “There’s been another disappearance. Young kid, about twenty. Went back-country and didn’t come back. Rangers found blood and some torn clothing.”

Sam leaned in to look at the article. “Does it say where exactly?”

“Out near Sixmile Valley.” Bobby pulled out a topographic map and spread it on the bar. “I figure we can light out tomorrow. It’s about a four-mile hike in.”

Sam pulled the research folder out of his jacket and slid it over to Bobby. He studied the accounts, turning to the map on occasion, then nodded. “These attacks happened in the same basic area. As much as I hate to say it, I think you’re right. We’re looking for a wendigo.”

A wendigo was an incredibly fast, vicious creature that had once been human and that craved human flesh. Sam and Dean had fought one a few years ago. The thing had been hard as hell to find and kill. It had