Crossroads - Supernatural Rewrite

Wendigo

The rumble of the Impala's engine was steady beneath them, a low growl that filled the silence like a heartbeat. Dean kept one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but glanced sideways when Sam suddenly jerked awake in the passenger seat.

Sam blinked hard, disoriented, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"You okay?" Dean asked, his tone soft but edged with concern.

Sam hesitated, then looked out the window.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine."

Dean gave a slow nod, though his fingers tightened on the wheel.

From the backseat, Kat leaned forward between them, her brows drawn together in quiet worry. "Another nightmare?" she asked gently.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, deciding not to answer.

Dean glanced at him again. "You wanna drive for a while?"

Kats head shot up, surprised by the offer.

Sam let out a quiet laugh. "Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that."

Dean shrugged, eyes still forward. "Just thought you might want to. Never mind."

"Look, I know you guys are worried about me," Sam said. "I get it—and thankyou. But I'm perfectly okay."

Kat sat back, her arms folded across her chest, doubt twisting in her gut. No, you're not, she thought. Who would be?

Dean's only response was a skeptical grunt.

Sam unfolded a map from the glove box and traced the route with his finger. "All right, where are we?"

"Just outside Grand Junction," Kat replied quietly.

"You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon," Sam said, voice tinged with regret.

Dean shook his head. "Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—"

"We gotta find Dad first," Sam cut in.

Dean's jaw flexed. "Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years? It's no coincidence."

Kat leaned forward again, her voice quiet but firm. "We'll find him. He'll have answers—he'll know what to do."

Dean met her eyes in the rearview, his expression thankful for her hopefulness but tinged with doubt as well.

Sam sighed, tapping the edge of the map. "It's weird. These coordinates he left us—Blackwater Ridge—there's nothing there, it's just woods."
He let the map fall into his lap. "Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

As if to answer, the Impala swept past a wooden sign, weathered and creaking slightly in the wind: WELCOME TO LOST CREEK COLORADO – NATIONAL FOREST.

Kat's eyes lingered on it as it disappeared behind them. She knew John, knew he wouldn't send them there for nothing. Somewhere out in those woods, something was waiting.

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The dense forest loomed around them, tall pines swaying gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows over the gravel lot. Inside the small ranger station, the air smelled faintly of earth and old paper. A few framed photos and dusty wildlife models decorated the room.

Sam stood in front of a 3D topographical map of the national forest. "So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," he murmured.

Kat stood beside him, watching as he pointed out the rough geography.