Two days later, Henry walked out of the woods.
He looked like something the forest had chewed up and spat out—dirt caked into every crease, clothes torn, hair a disaster, hand still wrapped in a strip of his own shirt from where the spear went through. He found a ranger station at the tree line and didn't even hesitate.
"Excuse me," he said to the ranger sitting outside. "Where am I?"
The ranger looked him over slowly, taking in the full picture.
He'd seen this type before. Social media influencers who thought wandering into dense forest alone made for interesting content, then crawled back out three days later looking like something dragged in by a cat, dignity completely gone.
"Blackwater Ridge," he said. "Lost Creek, Wisconsin."
Henry stared at him. "Wisconsin."
"That's what I said."
He'd been teleported from Indiana to Wisconsin. Dumped into a vampire nest, dragged through an abandoned factory, stranded in a dead forest for two days eating tree bark, hunted by a Wendigo, and the whole time he'd been in a completely different state without knowing it.
Two days of tree bark and dirt for this.
He turned back to the ranger.
"Is there a phone I can use?"
The ranger jerked his thumb toward the station door. "Inside. On the desk."
Henry walked in, picked up the phone, and dialed Dean's number from memory.
It rang four times.
"You've reached Dean Winchester. Leave a message."
Henry hung up and dialed Sam.
"This is Sam, leave a—"
Hung up.
He stood there for a moment, then tried another number. A contact Dean had made a few months back. No answer. Tried another. Nothing. He was running out of numbers he actually had memorized when he dialed a third one and the line finally clicked.
"Yeah, who's this?"
Henry closed his eyes briefly. "Dean. It's Henry."
Dead silence for a half second. Then— "Henry?" More movement, muffled, Dean pulling the phone away— "Sam, it's Henry—" then back, louder. "Where the hell have you been? Two days, man. Two days."
"Wisconsin," Henry said.
"...Wisconsin."
"Someone teleported me from that gas station straight into a vampire nest. Then an abandoned factory. Then dropped me in a forest with a Wendigo for two days with no phone and no food."
Another pause.
"Did you just say Wendigo?"
"I did."
"...Are you okay?"
"I look like a homeless person," Henry said. "So. Relatively speaking."
"Can you guys come and get me?"
"Ummm," Dean said, and Henry already didn't like where this was going. "Someone called my dad's old number, said something about his cell being broken into. I gotta go check it out but—don't worry, Sam will come pick you up."
Henry was quiet for a second.
"Dean."
"Yeah."
"If that is a bullshit reason I will come there and smack you in the nuts."
"It's a legitimate lead—"
"I ate tree bark for two days."
"Sam will be there in a few hours," Dean said quickly. "Stay near the ranger station."
The line went dead.
Henry stood there holding the phone, then set it down and looked at the ranger, who had very obviously been listening from the doorway the entire time.
"Any chance you have food here?"
The ranger looked at him the way someone looks at a person who has just asked a very stupid question.
Henry held up his good hand. "Right. Forest ranger station, not a restaurant."
Still, there was an old vending machine in the corner.
He checked his pockets. Somehow, against all odds, a crumpled ten dollar bill had survived two days in the woods with him. He smoothed it out against his thigh and fed it into the vending machine.
He stared at the options for a second, then hit the button for a Coke.
The can dropped with a thunk. He grabbed it, cracked it open, and drank half of it in one go without moving from the spot.
He stood there for a moment, eyes closed, can in hand.
"Okay," he said quietly. "That's better."
The ranger leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at him with the particular expression of a man who had seen too many people come out of those woods in bad shape.
"You know," he said, "at your age, kid, it's better to just find a job. Normal one. Nine to five. Something with a roof."
Henry lowered the Coke can slowly and looked at him.
"I have a job," he said.
"That pays you to walk into forests and come out looking like that?"
Henry looked down at himself. Torn clothes, dirt in places dirt had no business being, hair that had given up entirely.
"Technically," he said, "I didn't walk in voluntarily."
The ranger stared at him.
Henry took another sip of his Coke.
"You got a shower anywhere in this station?"
The ranger stared at him.
"Kid, do you think this is some sort of all inclusive place?"
Henry opened his mouth. Then closed it. He looked around the small ranger station. One desk, one phone, one ancient vending machine, and a folding chair that had seen better decades.
"No," he said. "No I do not."
He finished the Coke, crushed the can slightly in his good hand, and dropped it in the bin by the door.
"I'll wait outside."
After a few hours, the sun dropped and the temperature went with it.
Henry was sitting on the steps outside the ranger station, back against the post, half asleep, when headlights swept across the lot.
A car pulled in.
Sam climbed out, took one look at Henry, and stopped.
"You look terrible", he said.
"Thank you, Sam," Henry said, getting to his feet. "Really. That means a lot."
Sam popped the trunk and grabbed a spare jacket, tossing it across. "Dean said you got teleported."
"Dean said a lot of things from the comfort of wherever he currently is," Henry said, pulling the jacket on. "While I was eating tree bark in Wisconsin."
*****
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