Chapter Text
During the first few weeks of the trip, Rob discovered that freedom had a sound all its own. It was the steady hum of tires on asphalt as he crossed highways he'd never seen, the crackle of the radio when he lost a station and had to hunt for another, the wind slipping in through a cracked window, and, more than anything, the absence of someone telling him where he had to go. For the first time in his life, he didn't have to check in with anyone beyond the calls he'd promised his parents. He could stop whenever he wanted, change his route because a view had caught his eye, or keep driving for hours just because he was curious what he'd find past the next bend. He'd spent most of his teenage years feeling like he was always waiting for something: to finish school, to figure out what to study, to prove to his father he could do more than research and now that waiting was over. He was eighteen, driving a car he'd bought with his own money, with an entire country stretched out ahead of him.
He especially loved waking up every morning without knowing exactly where he'd end up that night. He'd learned to travel light, to pull over the moment he started feeling tired, and to pick simple motels where he could grab a few hours of sleep before getting back on the road. He ate almost every meal at little restaurants he found on a whim, some next to gas stations, others in towns that barely showed up on digital maps and he'd started keeping a mental list of the places where the food had been surprisingly good, and the ones he never planned on going back to. Every so often he'd drive miles out of his way just to see an overlook, walk around a lake, or take a picture of some rock formation he'd seen on a roadside sign. He didn't have to be anywhere at any particular time, and nobody was waiting at home to ask why he was running late. Even the small things gave him a satisfaction he'd never felt before. Filling up the tank, grabbing coffee before sunrise, stopping at a gas station to stretch his legs, none of it felt like a chore anymore. They'd all become small decisions that were entirely his to make.
The one thing that wasn't turning out the way he'd pictured it was the hunting.
During the first few days he'd chased down several reports that had looked promising from a distance. A woman in Nebraska swore she'd seen a figure cross her bedroom window three nights in a row; Rob spent nearly half a day checking out her house and found out the shadows were coming from a tree swinging in front of a security light. In another town, a family claimed to hear knocking inside their walls and was convinced something supernatural was trying to get in. Rob spent a full night there and eventually figured out that old pipes were causing pressure changes that made the whole structure rattle. In another case, he found a man convinced a creature was attacking his cattle, only to discover the wounds had been left by wild dogs. There was even a supposed ritual murder that sounded like something straight out of one of the bunker's stranger case files, and it turned out to be exactly the opposite, a real, human killing, committed by someone cruel and calculating, but entirely human.
More than once, Rob had felt ridiculous. He'd driven for hours, spent money on gas and motels, gone through witness statements and combed through photographs, only to land on a perfectly ordinary explanation. In a few cases, though, he really had found ghosts. Those hunts turned out to be a lot less thrilling than he'd imagined. He'd track down the remains, get his hands on salt and gasoline, wait until nightfall, and do what needed to be done so the spirit stopped showing up. No dramatic showdowns, no creature chasing him through the woods. Most of the time, once the bones were burned and the salt was down, all that was left was the quiet of a house that was finally free of whatever had been haunting it.
Even so, Rob wasn't about to call any of it a failure. Every case taught him something. He'd learned to tell the difference between an exaggerated story and an actual pattern, how to dig through public records without drawing too much attention, and, above all, not to assume every strange story hid something supernatural. That last one had been Sam's lesson, drilled into him since he was little, even if Rob would never have admitted it. His father had always insisted that a good hunter investigates before jumping to conclusions, because killing an innocent creature, or accusing an innocent person of being a monster, could cost a lot more than getting a report wrong.
With his parents, he kept up a pretty steady routine. He called every couple of days, and when the road was quiet enough, sometimes every single day. Some calls lasted only a few minutes, just long enough for Sam to make sure he was okay and ask where he planned on sleeping that night. Others ran a lot longer, especially when Eileen wanted to hear about the places he'd been. Rob told them stories about small diners, people he'd met, views that had stuck with him. All of it was true. He really had met interesting people and seen places he never would have if he'd stayed in Lebanon, but he carefully left out the most important part of the trip. He never told them he was still chasing cases. He never mentioned the nights he'd driven out to some town just to check on a local legend, or the weapons hidden in his trunk.
With Dean, it was different.
He hadn't called him once.
He didn't expect to, either.
After that last conversation in his room, Rob had decided he didn't need to hear his brother's warnings all over again. He didn't want Dean reminding him he didn't have enough experience, that he could die, that Sam and Eileen would fall apart if something happened to him. Rob already knew all of that. What he didn't want was to hear it in Dean's voice, like it was confirmation of everything he'd been feeling for years. So whenever his brother's name popped up now and then while he scrolled through photos or family messages, Rob just set the phone aside and kept driving.
One afternoon, after stopping at a roadside diner for lunch, Rob headed back to the car with a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He got behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled up one of the sites he used to check local news. He'd learned to search specific terms: disappearances, animal attacks, bodies found, unexplained deaths, people who claimed to have seen creatures. He wasn't expecting anything worth his time. He'd gone several days without finding a case worth the detour.
Then a story popped up, posted only a few hours earlier.
Four hikers missing in Michigan. Two bodies found in the woods.
Rob set his coffee in the cupholder and opened the article.
The four hikers had gone missing six days earlier while out in a wooded area near a lake. Authorities had found two bodies that same morning, some distance off the main trail. Both had severe wounds to the torso and had lost a significant amount of blood. What caught Rob's attention wasn't just the nature of the injuries, it was the description of one of them.
One of the hikers had been found with his heart missing.
Rob read the line again.
Then he pulled up another article.
Police suspected the hikers had been attacked by a wild animal. There'd been bear sightings in the area, along with other predators, and some locals reported hearing animals at night. But no tracks had turned up that matched an attack like that.
A smile crept onto Rob's face.
Not a happy smile, exactly, more like the look he got whenever something finally started clicking into place.
"Let's see what you've got, Michigan," he murmured, pulling up directions to the town.
The detour meant several extra hours on the road, but Rob didn't hesitate for long. He punched the address into the GPS, put his phone away, and pulled back onto the highway.
The town sat right on one of Michigan's larger lakes, ringed by dense woods that stretched well past the edge of town. On the drive over, Rob dug up everything he could about the missing hikers. All four were friends who'd gone out together for a few days in the wilderness. Two of them were still missing. The other two had turned up dead. None of them had a record of violence or any known enemies.
But there was something else.
One article mentioned that several locals had reported hearing howling in the nights leading up to the disappearance.
The idea that had been circling in Rob's head started turning into something closer to certainty.
A werewolf.
He didn't have proof yet, but the pattern was too familiar to write off.
When he got into town, he didn't go around asking about monsters. He knew perfectly well that was the fastest way to make sure nobody talked to him ever again. He pulled out a fake ID he'd put together before the trip and switched into the serious, professional tone he'd picked up from watching investigators pass through the bunker. This wasn't the first time he'd seen hunters pose as federal agents, and he'd paid close enough attention to know which questions to avoid.
Over the next few hours, he talked to police officers, park rangers, and a handful of locals. He found out the four hikers had been camping near an old, abandoned stretch of cabins. The area had gone unused for years after part of the land was sold off and the access roads got too rough to drive. Most people avoided the place, especially once the disappearances started.
A ranger named Miller handed him a map.
"I don't know exactly what you're looking for, Agent," he said, "but if you want to find where those people might've holed up, I'd start here."
He pointed to a stretch of forest north of the lake.
"There's a handful of old cabins out there. Most of them are falling apart, but one still has a roof and windows. Used to belong to a family that lived out here every summer."
"Anyone using it now?"
Miller shook his head.
"Not that I know of."
Rob studied the map.
"Why would you start there?"
The man hesitated.
"Because three nights ago, I heard something out that way."
"What kind of something?"
Miller glanced toward the window before answering.
"A howl."
Rob kept his expression flat, though inside he could feel the adrenaline starting to spike.
"A wolf?"
"Didn't sound like a wolf."
That night, he waited until the town had gone quiet.
Rob had learned that patience was one of the biggest differences between a hunter who was actually prepared and someone who just wanted to prove he was brave. He waited until he was sure no one would notice him leave, grabbed his bag, and drove as far as he could before he had to continue on foot. He was carrying a gun loaded with silver bullets, a silver knife, a flashlight, and a few basic supplies. He didn't know how many werewolves he'd find, but he figured it probably wasn't just one.
The moon barely showed through the clouds.
The woods were silent.
Rob moved carefully until he spotted the cabin between the trees. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years, but something didn't add up. One of the windows had a curtain that looked new, and there were fresh footprints in the mud near the door.
He crept closer.
He heard voices.
Rob crouched by the wall and waited.
He saw two men, then heard a woman crying.
Rob's jaw tightened. He didn't have any doubts left.
He pulled his gun and went in.
One of the men had his back turned, hunched over a table. Rob raised his weapon and fired twice. The silver bullets hit him square in the chest, and he dropped before he even had a chance to react.
The second one spun around.
For a split second, their eyes met.
Then the change began.
Bones cracked. The body twisted and warped, and the human face vanished beneath a mass of dark fur. The creature let out a roar and lunged at Rob.
Rob fired and missed.
The werewolf slammed into his arm, and the gun flew out of his hand and skidded into a corner of the room. Rob fell back against a table, which tipped over from the impact, and barely got his arms up before the creature came at him again.
The hit sent him to the floor.
Rob felt the full weight of the creature bearing down on him and fought to keep it off. Its claws swiped past his face, only inches away. The thing's strength was way beyond anything he'd imagined. Rob gritted his teeth and pushed back with everything he had, scrambling for anything he could use as a weapon.
His fingers found the handle of his knife.
He pulled it from its sheath.
The creature raised a claw again.
Rob waited until the last possible second and drove the silver blade straight into its chest.
The werewolf went still.
Rob kept both hands locked on the handle as the creature's strength drained out of it and it finally slumped to the side.
For several seconds he just lay there, catching his breath.
Then he pushed himself up.
He had scrapes along both arms and a shallow cut on his cheek, but he was in one piece.
Rob grabbed his gun off the floor and looked around.
The two women were tied to chairs on the other side of the room. Both had tears running down their faces and looked too shaken to speak.
Rob approached slowly.
"It's okay. It's over." He knelt in front of them and started cutting the ropes. "Are either of you hurt?"
One of the women shook her head.
"Did they bite you? Either of you?"
Both shook their heads again.
Rob let out a breath of relief.
"Good. Then we need to get out of here."
He helped them to their feet and walked them out to the car. One of them could barely walk from the shock, and Rob ended up half-carrying her most of the way. He got them settled into the back seat and drove straight to the nearest hospital.
While the doctors took over, Rob stayed in the waiting room long enough to make sure there were no complications. Once he finally got confirmation that both women were out of danger, he headed out.
He stopped by his car in the parking lot.
For the first time since the trip started, everything had gone exactly the way he'd hoped it would.
He'd found a real case, figured out what was going on, and gotten two people out alive.
And he'd killed two werewolves.
By himself.
He got in the car, shut the door, and rested his hands on the wheel. His heart was still pounding in his chest. The adrenaline hadn't worn off, it felt like it was trapped under his skin, running through his arms and legs while he tried to process what had just happened.
Rob started smiling.
He turned on the radio and cranked the volume until the music filled the whole car. Then he pulled out of the lot and drove off.
He'd pictured this moment hundreds of times since deciding to take the trip. He'd imagined facing off with a creature, making mistakes, having to think fast, and finally driving away with the satisfaction of having saved someone. The reality had been more terrifying than he'd expected, but a lot more exhilarating, too. He'd been scared. He'd nearly lost his weapon. He'd ended up pinned under something that could have killed him. And he'd still found a way out.
He hadn't needed his father to bail him out.
He hadn't needed Dean.
For the first time, Rob felt like maybe he'd been right all along.
Maybe he really was ready.
As he drove down a road that kept getting darker, that feeling pulled him back to another night, years earlier, back when he'd still been too young to fully understand what he was looking at.
He was seven.
He was sitting in the back seat of his father's car while Sam drove down some back road. It was nighttime, and Rob vaguely remembered being tired. They'd been on the road for hours, and he'd had his head leaned against the window, half-asleep, when Sam slammed on the brakes.
There was a wrecked car in front of them.
It sat crooked across the road, one of its doors hanging open. Sam pulled over onto the shoulder and stared at the wreck.
"Stay here," he told Rob.
Rob did as he was told.
From the back seat, he watched his father get out and walk toward the crashed car. At first he thought Sam was just going to help, the way anyone would if they came across an accident in the middle of the road. Then he heard a scream.
Sam froze.
Rob sat up straighter in his seat.
Through the windshield, he saw a shape moving near the car.
At first he had no idea what he was looking at.
Then the thing turned around.
Even all these years later, Rob still remembered exactly how it had hit him. The face wasn't fully human anymore. The eyes glowed in a way that didn't look right. There were two people near the car, and the thing was attacking them.
Rob screamed.
"Dad!"
Sam spun toward him.
"Stay in the car!"
Rob obeyed, even though every part of him wanted to run to his father.
Sam pulled out a gun and put himself between the werewolf and the two victims. The creature lunged at him. Rob watched his father get thrown to the ground and get back up, watched him block one attack after another, watched him fight to keep the monster away from the people it had already hurt.
Sam wasn't fighting to prove anything.
He was fighting because there were two people behind him.
He finally managed to take the creature down, and after what felt to Rob like an endless fight, he killed it.
Rob had stayed glued to the window the whole time.
When Sam got back in the car, he was covered in dirt with a cut on his forehead. He opened the door and just looked at his son for a moment.
"You okay?"
Rob nodded.
Sam sat behind the wheel but didn't start the engine right away.
"I'm sorry."
Rob frowned.
"Why?"
Sam looked at him in the rearview mirror.
"I didn't want you to see that."
Rob hadn't understood back then why his father looked so shaken. To him, what had just happened wasn't a nightmare. He'd watched his dad take on a monster and save two people he didn't even know.
He'd seen him as a hero.
For a long time, Sam carried guilt over that night. He never knew that for Rob, the memory had turned into something completely different. It hadn't been the night he found out the world could be dangerous. It had been the night he found out exactly what he wanted to do with his life.
He wanted to be like his father. An exceptional hunter, someone who could face down the supernatural to protect people.
Rob looked back at the road.
He was still smiling.
It had taken eleven years, but he'd finally done it.
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Several hours passed before Rob realized he no longer recognized the road he was on.
He'd taken a back road hoping to find a motel for the night, but his phone signal had started dropping out. The GPS stopped updating properly, and his internet connection flickered in and out every few minutes.
Rob glanced up at the sky.
The clouds had turned a lot darker.
A storm was rolling in.
"Great," he muttered, tapping the wheel.
The rain started soon after.
At first it was just a few drops on the windshield. Then it turned into a sheet of water that cut his visibility down to almost nothing. Rob flipped on the wipers and slowed down.
He didn't want to stop in the middle of the road.
A motel had to show up eventually.
He kept driving.
The road was practically empty. Trees and dark stretches of land lined both sides. Rob checked his phone a few times, but the signal was too weak to pin down his location. He tried pulling up the map, and the screen took several seconds to load.
"Come on..."
The phone finally showed a route and then the information vanished almost immediately.
Rob sighed.
Then something ran across the road.
Some kind of animal, he couldn't tell what.
Rob reacted on instinct.
He wrenched the wheel.
The car lost its grip on the wet pavement.
For a moment everything happened too fast. Rob tried to regain control, but the car started spinning. He heard the tires screech, felt the car sliding toward the shoulder, and then, a hard, dull impact.
Everything went dark.
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When he came to, the first thing he felt was pain.
His head hurt, his chest hurt, his arms hurt, and his left ankle hurt worst of all. He tried to move and found that his whole body felt heavier than it should. He had no idea how much time had passed, or where he was.
Then he heard a voice.
"Are you okay?"
It was a woman's voice.
Rob tried to open his eyes, but the rain and the darkness seemed to still be there. He blinked a few times until a shape came into focus, leaning over him.
He couldn't make out her face.
All he could see was the outline of a young woman and, around her neck, a small cross pendant catching the light of a flashlight.
"Easy," the voice said. "Don't try to move."
Rob wanted to ask who she was.
He couldn't get the words out.
The darkness pulled him back under.
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When he opened his eyes again, the world had changed.
There was a white light above him.
Rob blinked a few times and felt a sharp throb in his head. He tried to sit up, but a stab of pain shot through his body and stopped him cold. He looked around as best he could.
He was in a white room.
There was a bed, a small table beside it, and an IV bag hooked up to a line in his arm. The smell of disinfectant confirmed what he already suspected.
He was in a hospital.
He didn't remember how he'd gotten there.
He tried to move his leg and felt the pain in his ankle flare up again.
Then he heard a voice. A woman's voice, quiet and calm, coming from the other side of the room.
The young woman was sitting by a window, hands folded, head bowed slightly.
Rob slowly turned his head.
"Thank you, God, for in Your infinite mercy You let this young man be saved. Grant him a swift recovery. Angel of God, you…" The young woman noticed Rob had woken up and looked up. "Oh, you're awake. Easy. Don't try to get up."
Her voice was soft.
Rob did as she said, though he was still disoriented.
The young woman moved closer to the bed.
He could see her clearly now. She looked about his age, with long dark hair, watchful eyes, and a face that stayed calm despite the worry in it. Around her neck hung the same pendant he'd seen right before he'd blacked out.
The cross.
Rob studied her for a moment before speaking.
"Where am I?" Rob said, his throat dry.
"At a clinic."
"Figured that much."
The young woman smiled a little.
Rob tried to remember.
The road.
The storm.
The animal.
The car spinning off the road.
Then, this woman.
"You're the one who found me?"
She nodded.
"Yeah. You had an accident. I found your car off the road and brought you here."
Rob glanced down at his leg.
"What happened to me?"
"You have a concussion, and you hurt your ankle. Some bruises and scrapes too, but the doctor said nothing serious."
Rob let out a slow breath.
"I got lucky."
"Yeah. Pretty lucky."
The young woman pulled her chair back over and sat down beside the bed.
"You passed out a few times. Probably from the hit to your head."
Rob ran a hand through his hair.
"How long have I been here?"
"A few hours."
He looked toward the window. It was still dark outside.
"I don't remember anything after the accident."
"That's normal."
Rob looked back at her.
"Can I get the name of the person who saved my life?"
The young woman smiled.
"Grace Donovan."
Rob nodded slowly.
"Rob Winchester."
Grace studied him for a moment, as if she were making sure he was really awake.
"Nice to meet you, Rob."
He tried to shift against the pillow and winced again.
"Grace..."
"Yeah?"
"Where are we, exactly?"
The young woman held his gaze for a moment before answering.
"My town."
Rob waited.
Grace nodded gently toward the window.
"Blackwater."
The name meant nothing to Rob. Maybe he'd seen it on a map somewhere, but he couldn't place it.
The pain and exhaustion dragged him back under, and Grace stayed right there beside him.