Post by Silwyna on Apr 22, 2009 18:31:39 GMT 1
Thanks to Yor and Kaz for beta reading!
Chapter 2
“Cowboys and Indians?” Dean stared at Sam with wide eyes.
Sam squirmed uncomfortably under his family’s scrutiny. His eyes darted out to the meadow again which now lay empty before him. “Um … yeah.”
“Could someone please tell me what just happened?” John asked impatiently from the backseat.
“I …” Sam exchanged a look with his brother. How the hell was he supposed to explain the visions to his father? To make matters worse, he wasn’t even sure he’d just had a vision. It had felt ... different. The pain had been as intense as usual – the only difference was it had come after the vision, not before. “I sometimes …” He stopped. He really didn’t know how he should say this. What would his father think? What would he do?
“He has visions.” Dean finished for him.
Sam held his breath, waiting anxiously for his father’s reaction.
“Visions?” John hissed.
“I’ll explain later. Sam …“ Dean tried to find the right words. “Cowboys and Indians?”
“I don’t know. That’s what it looked like.” Sam replied hoarsely. “There were horses, guns, arrows, fighting … lots of fighting… and bodies. The whole meadow was plastered with bodies and blood and smoke.” Sam shivered at the memory. “One cowboy rode directly at us, shooting. That’s when the pain hit.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you have a vision about something that happened two hundred years ago? It’s not like we can go back in time and stop a war.” Dean said exasperate. “You’ve never had visions about the past.”
“I know it sounds crazy, Dean. But that’s what I saw.” Sam replied. He flinched when another wave of pain hit his head and pressed a palm against his forehead. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Dean exchanged a short glance with his father who still stared at his sons with something between impatience, anger and horror. He shrugged apologetically and reached behind for his bag, taking out some aspirin and a bottle of water. Without a word, he handed both to his brother who gave him a grateful smile.
John watched the exchange with a raised brow.
“We’ve got a routine.” Dean shrugged.
“So I see.” John looked thoughtfully at his sons. “We should be in town soon. We’ll find a motel and get some rest. Then we talk more about this.”
It wasn’t like John to wait and get some rest, but Dean figured he wanted to think about what he’d just learned before he started his interrogation. He really didn’t look forward to it.
“Sounds good.” He nodded, relieved that at least his father wasn’t pushing the matter for now.
Sam looked like he’d prefer the ground open up and swallow him. Dean gave his leg a short pat, casting him the ‘everything will be okay’ look. Sam wanted nothing more than to believe him.
Two hours later they reached the town that was supposed to be a half an hour away from where they had left the truck in a huge hole in the middle of the road. Dean parked the Impala in front of the Marillin Inn, a four story building and the only hotel in town that wasn’t fully booked, or so they hoped. Apparently there was a car fair in town which explained the high amount of traffic. Well, that and the two roads closed due to flooding in the area. The fair was also responsible for the lack of vacancy at the last four hotels they had stopped at.
“You know, I think this heavy rain and your weirdo past-tense vision actually did us a favor.” Dean grinned. “I’m so going to take a look at all the cars later. Have you seen the posters? They have a full section with classics.” He puffed. “Course, my baby could give any of them a run for their money.”
“Have you seen the notes on the posters? The fair’s closed.” Sam said. “Half of the car show is gone. There’s a huge hole in the middle of the fairgrounds.” The last part they had heard on the radio. The highway’s foundation hadn’t been the only one which had been weakened.
Dean rolled his eyes. “So? I can still look at the other half.”
“Which probably isn’t any safer than the half that sunk in!” Sam countered. “It isn’t exactly a safe place to go.”
“When did we ever do safe?” Dean grinned.
Sam shook his head and refrained from replying. The fair was closed, plus they would leave first thing in the morning – assuming they had the truck back then and the roads were at least partially trafficable again – and their Dad wasn’t going to let Dean go until they had discussed this whole vision thing to death. They had enough on their plate.
The mere thought of that conversation made him want to throw up.
“There he is.” Dean pointed to the hotel’s entrance where John had just come out. “And he’s carrying a key. We have a room.” He added happily.
“Great.” Sam breathed out relieved. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. His head had stopped pounding, but he still felt drained. Yawning, he followed his brother out of the Impala.
When he’d reached his sons, John tossed Sam the room key, giving him a stern look. “Ten minutes, your room - I want to know everything.” He took his bag out of the car and with striding steps went inside the hotel.
“Yes, Sir.” Sam sighed. So much for sleeping. Apparently, having been stuck in a traffic jam for that long had made his father’s patience run thin. Not that he was a very patient man to begin with.
“Don’t worry.” Dean handed him his duffel bag. “It won’t be that bad.”
“Not bad? I have death visions! And Dad just found out by accident. It’s going to be brutal.” Sam replied gloomy.
Dean waved him off. “It’s not like you asked for them. And there wasn’t anything we could have done about them either, so what is he supposed to say?” His face lit up when he saw a familiar motorcycle parking in front of the hotel as well. “Hey look.”
“What?” Sam followed his line of sight, frowning when he saw the bike. “Since when are you interested in motorcycles?”
“I’m not interested in motorcycles. I just noticed it earlier. That guy probably arrived here hours ago.”
“You want to trade the Impala for a motorcycle now?” Sam teased him. “Were would you keep the weapons?”
“What? No! Hell, Sam, don’t ever say something like this in front of her.” Dean turned back to his car and gently patted the hood. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll never trade you for anything.”
He turned back to Sam when he heard his brother laughing quietly.
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” Sam grinned.
“It’s called being loyal. Look it up.” Dean countered. A satisfied grin spread over his face when he followed his brother inside the hotel to their room. He mentally congratulated himself. He was an expert in distracting his brother from thinking too much about their Dad, if only for a few minutes.
His grin faded quickly when as soon as Sam stepped into their room on the second floor he flinched back.
“Shit!” Sam cried out and stumbled backwards, right into Dean, making them both end up on the ground.
“Sam, what the hell!” Dean cursed, pushing his brother off of him and picking himself up from the floor.
Sam kept sitting on the ground, staring wide eyed into their hotel room.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, worry replacing the anger within moments.
“Don’t you see it?” Sam choked out.
“See what?” And then it dawned on Dean. “Oh no, not again.”
Sam slowly got up from the floor and carefully entered the room, staring at the walls as if they were covered in blood.
“They’re not covered in blood too, are they?” Dean asked, voicing his thoughts.
“What?”
“The walls, are they covered in blood?”
“You can see that?” Sam exclaimed.
Dean hated the hopeful look in his brother’s eyes. Actually, he hated crushing that hope. “No, I just took a wild guess. The way you were staring at the walls …”
“Oh …”
“So there’s blood?”
Sam nodded slowly. "It’s everywhere." He croaked, staring at the walls with wide eyes. He turned slowly, taking everything in, absorbing it like he used to do when reading a book. He stopped abruptly when he faced the bed.
"Sam." Dean said but before he could continue Sam cried out and his hands went for his head.
Dean was at his side just in time to stop his brother from hitting the floor full on when his legs gave out.
"Sam!" Dean said again, cradling his brother in his arms.
Sam moaned in pain as his whole body went rigid. His hands were pressed tightly against his head which tossed restlessly back and forth. Dean held him like he always did, willing the pain to stop, praying for Sam to come out of this okay. At the same time he could feel the panic return. Because this was wrong, it was all wrong. It should be pain first and then the vision. Sam wasn’t supposed to see blood on the walls before the pain hit him.
Sam was doing it wrong and Dean wanted to call him up on it, tell him to stop, to do it right. He wanted to scream out that he still hadn’t figured out how to not freak out with a normal vision (normal!) and that Sam had no right to just change things like that before Dean had had time to get used to how they were before.
Dean wanted to call for their Dad, for him to come and make it right, but their Dad knew less about this than Dean did, hell, he had just witnessed Sam having a vision (and a wrong one at that) for the first time two hours ago and he knew nothing about this. How was their Dad supposed to fix this?
How was Dean supposed to fix this if their Dad couldn’t?
"Dean?"
Sam’s pain filled voice brought Dean back to the present. "It’s okay, just breathe through it." He said quietly and gently stroked Sam’s back in a soothing way. "It’s okay."
"Damn." Sam breathed out. His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light around him.
"Yeah." Dean said. "Is the blood still there?"
Sam looked up and his eyes scanned the room. "No."
Dean breathed out relieved. "Good."
He got up from the floor and picked up their duffel bags. He threw them on one of the two beds and sat down himself.
"You planning to stay down there forever, Sammy?" He said, raking his hand through his hair and congratulating himself for not freaking out during another one of Sam’s visions.
Sam looked dumbfounded as if he just now realized he was still sitting on the ground. "Oh ..." He said and got up from the floor as well, taking a seat on the other bed. "This is all wrong, Dean."
“You don’t say.” Dean sighed. His panic had returned to the normal post vision level and he was able to think about things other than Sam, pain and vision and of course, how not right it all was! “What exactly did you see?”
Sam swallowed and let his eyes roam around the room again before he replied. “There was blood on the walls and the floor. And … I think there was a dead woman on the bed.”
“You think?”
Sam shrugged hesitantly. “I only saw her for a second.”
Dean thought about it and then suddenly jumped up. “Wait, on the bed? This bed?”
Sam tilted his head and gave his brother an apologetic look.
“Okay, that’s it. We’re getting another room.”
The door opened just in time for John to hear his eldest son’s last words. “Cut the crap, Dean. We’re not on vacation. This room is as good as any other.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but John held up his hand, effectively silencing him.
“Now, I want to know everything … from the beginning.” He said, glaring at his sons sternly.
Sam and Dean exchanged an uncomfortable glance. They both felt like they were children again, and had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
Eventually, it was Dean who spoke first. “It started a few months ago.” He said quietly. “Nightmares at first and then he started having them when he was awake. There’s always a lot of pain involved.”
“Just headaches.” Sam added.
“Pretty heavy headaches. Hence the whole aspirin routine thing.” Dean looked sheepishly at his father.
“What are the visions about?” John inquired.
Sam took a deep breath. “Usually, I see people dying.” He swallowed. “And they … they’re always connected to me … in a way.”
“What way?”
“One was about a guy my age, Max. He … he had special abilities, like me.” Sam replied quietly.
“He was nothing like you.” Dean cut in harshly. “He was a killer.”
“A killer?” John asked.
Dean wasn’t sure but he could swear his father had paled. That couldn’t be though because John Winchester never paled. Ever!
“He murdered his father and uncle.” Sam went on. “We arrived just in time to stop him from killing his mother too. His stepmother, that is.” He didn’t look at his father or Dean. Too many emotions were involved when it came to that day. It wasn’t just the visions or the deaths he hadn’t been able to prevent or the fact that there had been someone else out there who was like him, who had lost his mother the same way he had and who was cursed with a gift he had never asked for. It wasn’t just that. It was the memory of seeing his brother dying, being shot in the head, and an armoire that moved just because Sam wanted it to. It was the feeling that something was wrong with him.
It was all that and more combined. It made Sam feel sick and nauseous and he wanted nothing more than for it to have never happened.
There was just too much he wanted to have never happened.
“Max was crazy.” Dean added. “You’re not.” He looked at Sam and gave him a quick smile as if reading his thoughts.
“What else?” John asked in a monotone voice.
“Lawrence. I dreamed about our old house in Lawrence."
“There was a Poltergeist terrorizing the new owner.” Dean explained. “We called you about that, remember?”
“We did?” Sam asked surprised.
Dean bit his lip. Damn, he had never told Sam about that call he’d made back then. “One of those calls, you know …” He said vaguely.
John stayed quiet for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts. Sam looked miserably at his brother at the prolonged silence and Dean shrugged apologetically. He knew how much talking about this hurt Sam. Hell, he knew how much just thinking about this hurt Sam. It hurt him as much as it freaked Dean out.
Sam never mentioned the hurt part though and Dean would rather die than admit it freaked him out. So they both just waited for their father to keep asking questions.
“And when were you going to tell me about this?” John finally asked, barely hidden anger in his voice.
“We didn’t know what it meant.” Dean shrugged apologetically.
“And that is exactly why you should have called me.” John said angrily. “Something like this starts happening to your brother, you call me!”
“Call you? Dad, we did call you.” Dean snapped. He jumped up from the bed and stared angrily at his father. How dare he! After everything!
Both John and Sam looked at him surprised.
“I called you from Lawrence! Or did you never even bother to check your voicemail?“ Dean inhaled deeply, the anger, disappointment and fear from the last year finally getting the better of him. He was sick of being the good son. “I called you from Carlton City when Sam was in hospital. Sam called you when I was dying. We called you ALL the time! Getting you on the phone ... I would have gotten a better chance of winning the lottery.”
Dean was trembling by the time he finished, shooting an angry glare at his father.
“Dean.” Sam said quietly, his hand on Dean’s arm.
Dean turned around, meeting his brother’s glance. Sam looked at him, his eyes unwavering as he held eye contact with his sibling. For a moment Dean saw a younger Sam with wide eyes who so much resembled the eight year old boy who had worshipped his big brother that it made Dean’s heart skip a beat. He exhaled deeply and looked back at his father.
Standing up to John Winchester scared the crap out of him, but if it made Sam look at him like that … maybe it had been worth it.
He had to admit – it had felt damn good to get it all out for once.
The feeling didn’t stay for long though. John kept looking at him thoughtfully, not saying a single word. Dean swallowed nervously. Not that he regretted having said what he’d said … he just wished he’d said it a lot more calmly, with less anger in his words. Or maybe not at all. No matter how good it had felt. Or how much Sam worshipped him for it.
You didn’t talk to John Winchester like that and get away with it. Dean had learned that lesson a long time ago. Mentally, he prepared himself for the outbreak that would be his father’s wrath.
“You’re right.” John finally said after a long silent pause.
Dean was so stunned, he sagged down on the bed next to his brother. “I am?”
John looked at him with a raised brow. “I’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours, but you’re right. I’m sorry.”
Sam and Dean looked from their father to each other, neither of them knowing what to say.
“Now, what you saw in the car …” John went on, getting back on the subject. “Your vision …”
“It was different from the others.” Sam said. “I … I never saw anything from the past before. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“And the headache usually comes first.” Dean added.
John nodded, but stayed quiet.
“There was another one.” Sam said quietly. He shared a quick glance with his brother. “Just now.”
“What?” John’s head jerked up. “What was it about?”
Sam shrugged helplessly. “There was blood. Everywhere. And … a woman. I think she was dead.”
“On that bed.” Dean pointed at the bed he had claimed as his own.
“I see.” John rubbed his hand through his beard, then looked at his eldest with a crooked grin. “And that was enough to spook you, Dean? I’m disappointed.”
Dean opened his mouth to object, but John held up his hand and continued.
“There are no more free rooms here. It’s just for tonight. You’ll survive. Though if it makes you feel better, you could sleep on the floor in my room.” He smirked.
Dean narrowed his eyes. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“What do you mean, just for tonight?” Sam asked.
John looked at him with a raised brow. “I don’t want to let Caleb wait any longer than necessary.”
“Yeah, but … my visions. It has to mean something. Maybe it’s connected to the demon.”
“Or maybe not. As long as we don’t know for sure we won’t waste time staying here.”
“But …”
“This is not up for discussion.” John interrupted him. “Now get some rest, we’ll be leaving early tomorrow. And don’t even think about wandering into town.” He added with a glance at Dean. “Several streets here have caved in because of the rain. This town isn’t exactly safe at the moment. I don’t need you two getting hurt.”
“What about the truck?” Dean asked.
“We’ll come back later and get it.”
“Dad …” Sam tried again.
"That’s an order, Sam." John said abruptly, before he stood up and left the room without another word.
Sam stared at the closed door through which his father had gone.
“Sam, let it be.” Dean said quietly, seeing the frustration in his brother’s eyes.
Sam visibly trembled, his lips pressed tightly together. He glared at Dean, but stayed quiet. He exhaled heavily and started pacing the room.
Sighing, Dean grabbed for the TV remote and started flipping through the channels. He should have known if things were good, they never stayed that way for very long.
After two hours of pacing the room and listening to his brother’s attempts to cheer him up, Sam had enough.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” He said.
Before Dean could reply, Sam had left their motel room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Dean alone.
“Damn.” He groaned. Their Dad would freak out if Sam wasn’t here when he came back and Dean would be stuck right in the middle of it. Again.
No, things never really stayed good in their family for very long.
TBC
Chapter 2
“Cowboys and Indians?” Dean stared at Sam with wide eyes.
Sam squirmed uncomfortably under his family’s scrutiny. His eyes darted out to the meadow again which now lay empty before him. “Um … yeah.”
“Could someone please tell me what just happened?” John asked impatiently from the backseat.
“I …” Sam exchanged a look with his brother. How the hell was he supposed to explain the visions to his father? To make matters worse, he wasn’t even sure he’d just had a vision. It had felt ... different. The pain had been as intense as usual – the only difference was it had come after the vision, not before. “I sometimes …” He stopped. He really didn’t know how he should say this. What would his father think? What would he do?
“He has visions.” Dean finished for him.
Sam held his breath, waiting anxiously for his father’s reaction.
“Visions?” John hissed.
“I’ll explain later. Sam …“ Dean tried to find the right words. “Cowboys and Indians?”
“I don’t know. That’s what it looked like.” Sam replied hoarsely. “There were horses, guns, arrows, fighting … lots of fighting… and bodies. The whole meadow was plastered with bodies and blood and smoke.” Sam shivered at the memory. “One cowboy rode directly at us, shooting. That’s when the pain hit.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would you have a vision about something that happened two hundred years ago? It’s not like we can go back in time and stop a war.” Dean said exasperate. “You’ve never had visions about the past.”
“I know it sounds crazy, Dean. But that’s what I saw.” Sam replied. He flinched when another wave of pain hit his head and pressed a palm against his forehead. “Damn.”
“Yeah.” Dean exchanged a short glance with his father who still stared at his sons with something between impatience, anger and horror. He shrugged apologetically and reached behind for his bag, taking out some aspirin and a bottle of water. Without a word, he handed both to his brother who gave him a grateful smile.
John watched the exchange with a raised brow.
“We’ve got a routine.” Dean shrugged.
“So I see.” John looked thoughtfully at his sons. “We should be in town soon. We’ll find a motel and get some rest. Then we talk more about this.”
It wasn’t like John to wait and get some rest, but Dean figured he wanted to think about what he’d just learned before he started his interrogation. He really didn’t look forward to it.
“Sounds good.” He nodded, relieved that at least his father wasn’t pushing the matter for now.
Sam looked like he’d prefer the ground open up and swallow him. Dean gave his leg a short pat, casting him the ‘everything will be okay’ look. Sam wanted nothing more than to believe him.
---SPN---
Two hours later they reached the town that was supposed to be a half an hour away from where they had left the truck in a huge hole in the middle of the road. Dean parked the Impala in front of the Marillin Inn, a four story building and the only hotel in town that wasn’t fully booked, or so they hoped. Apparently there was a car fair in town which explained the high amount of traffic. Well, that and the two roads closed due to flooding in the area. The fair was also responsible for the lack of vacancy at the last four hotels they had stopped at.
“You know, I think this heavy rain and your weirdo past-tense vision actually did us a favor.” Dean grinned. “I’m so going to take a look at all the cars later. Have you seen the posters? They have a full section with classics.” He puffed. “Course, my baby could give any of them a run for their money.”
“Have you seen the notes on the posters? The fair’s closed.” Sam said. “Half of the car show is gone. There’s a huge hole in the middle of the fairgrounds.” The last part they had heard on the radio. The highway’s foundation hadn’t been the only one which had been weakened.
Dean rolled his eyes. “So? I can still look at the other half.”
“Which probably isn’t any safer than the half that sunk in!” Sam countered. “It isn’t exactly a safe place to go.”
“When did we ever do safe?” Dean grinned.
Sam shook his head and refrained from replying. The fair was closed, plus they would leave first thing in the morning – assuming they had the truck back then and the roads were at least partially trafficable again – and their Dad wasn’t going to let Dean go until they had discussed this whole vision thing to death. They had enough on their plate.
The mere thought of that conversation made him want to throw up.
“There he is.” Dean pointed to the hotel’s entrance where John had just come out. “And he’s carrying a key. We have a room.” He added happily.
“Great.” Sam breathed out relieved. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. His head had stopped pounding, but he still felt drained. Yawning, he followed his brother out of the Impala.
When he’d reached his sons, John tossed Sam the room key, giving him a stern look. “Ten minutes, your room - I want to know everything.” He took his bag out of the car and with striding steps went inside the hotel.
“Yes, Sir.” Sam sighed. So much for sleeping. Apparently, having been stuck in a traffic jam for that long had made his father’s patience run thin. Not that he was a very patient man to begin with.
“Don’t worry.” Dean handed him his duffel bag. “It won’t be that bad.”
“Not bad? I have death visions! And Dad just found out by accident. It’s going to be brutal.” Sam replied gloomy.
Dean waved him off. “It’s not like you asked for them. And there wasn’t anything we could have done about them either, so what is he supposed to say?” His face lit up when he saw a familiar motorcycle parking in front of the hotel as well. “Hey look.”
“What?” Sam followed his line of sight, frowning when he saw the bike. “Since when are you interested in motorcycles?”
“I’m not interested in motorcycles. I just noticed it earlier. That guy probably arrived here hours ago.”
“You want to trade the Impala for a motorcycle now?” Sam teased him. “Were would you keep the weapons?”
“What? No! Hell, Sam, don’t ever say something like this in front of her.” Dean turned back to his car and gently patted the hood. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll never trade you for anything.”
He turned back to Sam when he heard his brother laughing quietly.
“You’re insane, you know that, right?” Sam grinned.
“It’s called being loyal. Look it up.” Dean countered. A satisfied grin spread over his face when he followed his brother inside the hotel to their room. He mentally congratulated himself. He was an expert in distracting his brother from thinking too much about their Dad, if only for a few minutes.
His grin faded quickly when as soon as Sam stepped into their room on the second floor he flinched back.
“Shit!” Sam cried out and stumbled backwards, right into Dean, making them both end up on the ground.
“Sam, what the hell!” Dean cursed, pushing his brother off of him and picking himself up from the floor.
Sam kept sitting on the ground, staring wide eyed into their hotel room.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, worry replacing the anger within moments.
“Don’t you see it?” Sam choked out.
“See what?” And then it dawned on Dean. “Oh no, not again.”
Sam slowly got up from the floor and carefully entered the room, staring at the walls as if they were covered in blood.
“They’re not covered in blood too, are they?” Dean asked, voicing his thoughts.
“What?”
“The walls, are they covered in blood?”
“You can see that?” Sam exclaimed.
Dean hated the hopeful look in his brother’s eyes. Actually, he hated crushing that hope. “No, I just took a wild guess. The way you were staring at the walls …”
“Oh …”
“So there’s blood?”
Sam nodded slowly. "It’s everywhere." He croaked, staring at the walls with wide eyes. He turned slowly, taking everything in, absorbing it like he used to do when reading a book. He stopped abruptly when he faced the bed.
"Sam." Dean said but before he could continue Sam cried out and his hands went for his head.
Dean was at his side just in time to stop his brother from hitting the floor full on when his legs gave out.
"Sam!" Dean said again, cradling his brother in his arms.
Sam moaned in pain as his whole body went rigid. His hands were pressed tightly against his head which tossed restlessly back and forth. Dean held him like he always did, willing the pain to stop, praying for Sam to come out of this okay. At the same time he could feel the panic return. Because this was wrong, it was all wrong. It should be pain first and then the vision. Sam wasn’t supposed to see blood on the walls before the pain hit him.
Sam was doing it wrong and Dean wanted to call him up on it, tell him to stop, to do it right. He wanted to scream out that he still hadn’t figured out how to not freak out with a normal vision (normal!) and that Sam had no right to just change things like that before Dean had had time to get used to how they were before.
Dean wanted to call for their Dad, for him to come and make it right, but their Dad knew less about this than Dean did, hell, he had just witnessed Sam having a vision (and a wrong one at that) for the first time two hours ago and he knew nothing about this. How was their Dad supposed to fix this?
How was Dean supposed to fix this if their Dad couldn’t?
"Dean?"
Sam’s pain filled voice brought Dean back to the present. "It’s okay, just breathe through it." He said quietly and gently stroked Sam’s back in a soothing way. "It’s okay."
"Damn." Sam breathed out. His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light around him.
"Yeah." Dean said. "Is the blood still there?"
Sam looked up and his eyes scanned the room. "No."
Dean breathed out relieved. "Good."
He got up from the floor and picked up their duffel bags. He threw them on one of the two beds and sat down himself.
"You planning to stay down there forever, Sammy?" He said, raking his hand through his hair and congratulating himself for not freaking out during another one of Sam’s visions.
Sam looked dumbfounded as if he just now realized he was still sitting on the ground. "Oh ..." He said and got up from the floor as well, taking a seat on the other bed. "This is all wrong, Dean."
“You don’t say.” Dean sighed. His panic had returned to the normal post vision level and he was able to think about things other than Sam, pain and vision and of course, how not right it all was! “What exactly did you see?”
Sam swallowed and let his eyes roam around the room again before he replied. “There was blood on the walls and the floor. And … I think there was a dead woman on the bed.”
“You think?”
Sam shrugged hesitantly. “I only saw her for a second.”
Dean thought about it and then suddenly jumped up. “Wait, on the bed? This bed?”
Sam tilted his head and gave his brother an apologetic look.
“Okay, that’s it. We’re getting another room.”
The door opened just in time for John to hear his eldest son’s last words. “Cut the crap, Dean. We’re not on vacation. This room is as good as any other.”
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but John held up his hand, effectively silencing him.
“Now, I want to know everything … from the beginning.” He said, glaring at his sons sternly.
Sam and Dean exchanged an uncomfortable glance. They both felt like they were children again, and had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
Eventually, it was Dean who spoke first. “It started a few months ago.” He said quietly. “Nightmares at first and then he started having them when he was awake. There’s always a lot of pain involved.”
“Just headaches.” Sam added.
“Pretty heavy headaches. Hence the whole aspirin routine thing.” Dean looked sheepishly at his father.
“What are the visions about?” John inquired.
Sam took a deep breath. “Usually, I see people dying.” He swallowed. “And they … they’re always connected to me … in a way.”
“What way?”
“One was about a guy my age, Max. He … he had special abilities, like me.” Sam replied quietly.
“He was nothing like you.” Dean cut in harshly. “He was a killer.”
“A killer?” John asked.
Dean wasn’t sure but he could swear his father had paled. That couldn’t be though because John Winchester never paled. Ever!
“He murdered his father and uncle.” Sam went on. “We arrived just in time to stop him from killing his mother too. His stepmother, that is.” He didn’t look at his father or Dean. Too many emotions were involved when it came to that day. It wasn’t just the visions or the deaths he hadn’t been able to prevent or the fact that there had been someone else out there who was like him, who had lost his mother the same way he had and who was cursed with a gift he had never asked for. It wasn’t just that. It was the memory of seeing his brother dying, being shot in the head, and an armoire that moved just because Sam wanted it to. It was the feeling that something was wrong with him.
It was all that and more combined. It made Sam feel sick and nauseous and he wanted nothing more than for it to have never happened.
There was just too much he wanted to have never happened.
“Max was crazy.” Dean added. “You’re not.” He looked at Sam and gave him a quick smile as if reading his thoughts.
“What else?” John asked in a monotone voice.
“Lawrence. I dreamed about our old house in Lawrence."
“There was a Poltergeist terrorizing the new owner.” Dean explained. “We called you about that, remember?”
“We did?” Sam asked surprised.
Dean bit his lip. Damn, he had never told Sam about that call he’d made back then. “One of those calls, you know …” He said vaguely.
John stayed quiet for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts. Sam looked miserably at his brother at the prolonged silence and Dean shrugged apologetically. He knew how much talking about this hurt Sam. Hell, he knew how much just thinking about this hurt Sam. It hurt him as much as it freaked Dean out.
Sam never mentioned the hurt part though and Dean would rather die than admit it freaked him out. So they both just waited for their father to keep asking questions.
“And when were you going to tell me about this?” John finally asked, barely hidden anger in his voice.
“We didn’t know what it meant.” Dean shrugged apologetically.
“And that is exactly why you should have called me.” John said angrily. “Something like this starts happening to your brother, you call me!”
“Call you? Dad, we did call you.” Dean snapped. He jumped up from the bed and stared angrily at his father. How dare he! After everything!
Both John and Sam looked at him surprised.
“I called you from Lawrence! Or did you never even bother to check your voicemail?“ Dean inhaled deeply, the anger, disappointment and fear from the last year finally getting the better of him. He was sick of being the good son. “I called you from Carlton City when Sam was in hospital. Sam called you when I was dying. We called you ALL the time! Getting you on the phone ... I would have gotten a better chance of winning the lottery.”
Dean was trembling by the time he finished, shooting an angry glare at his father.
“Dean.” Sam said quietly, his hand on Dean’s arm.
Dean turned around, meeting his brother’s glance. Sam looked at him, his eyes unwavering as he held eye contact with his sibling. For a moment Dean saw a younger Sam with wide eyes who so much resembled the eight year old boy who had worshipped his big brother that it made Dean’s heart skip a beat. He exhaled deeply and looked back at his father.
Standing up to John Winchester scared the crap out of him, but if it made Sam look at him like that … maybe it had been worth it.
He had to admit – it had felt damn good to get it all out for once.
The feeling didn’t stay for long though. John kept looking at him thoughtfully, not saying a single word. Dean swallowed nervously. Not that he regretted having said what he’d said … he just wished he’d said it a lot more calmly, with less anger in his words. Or maybe not at all. No matter how good it had felt. Or how much Sam worshipped him for it.
You didn’t talk to John Winchester like that and get away with it. Dean had learned that lesson a long time ago. Mentally, he prepared himself for the outbreak that would be his father’s wrath.
“You’re right.” John finally said after a long silent pause.
Dean was so stunned, he sagged down on the bed next to his brother. “I am?”
John looked at him with a raised brow. “I’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours, but you’re right. I’m sorry.”
Sam and Dean looked from their father to each other, neither of them knowing what to say.
“Now, what you saw in the car …” John went on, getting back on the subject. “Your vision …”
“It was different from the others.” Sam said. “I … I never saw anything from the past before. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“And the headache usually comes first.” Dean added.
John nodded, but stayed quiet.
“There was another one.” Sam said quietly. He shared a quick glance with his brother. “Just now.”
“What?” John’s head jerked up. “What was it about?”
Sam shrugged helplessly. “There was blood. Everywhere. And … a woman. I think she was dead.”
“On that bed.” Dean pointed at the bed he had claimed as his own.
“I see.” John rubbed his hand through his beard, then looked at his eldest with a crooked grin. “And that was enough to spook you, Dean? I’m disappointed.”
Dean opened his mouth to object, but John held up his hand and continued.
“There are no more free rooms here. It’s just for tonight. You’ll survive. Though if it makes you feel better, you could sleep on the floor in my room.” He smirked.
Dean narrowed his eyes. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“What do you mean, just for tonight?” Sam asked.
John looked at him with a raised brow. “I don’t want to let Caleb wait any longer than necessary.”
“Yeah, but … my visions. It has to mean something. Maybe it’s connected to the demon.”
“Or maybe not. As long as we don’t know for sure we won’t waste time staying here.”
“But …”
“This is not up for discussion.” John interrupted him. “Now get some rest, we’ll be leaving early tomorrow. And don’t even think about wandering into town.” He added with a glance at Dean. “Several streets here have caved in because of the rain. This town isn’t exactly safe at the moment. I don’t need you two getting hurt.”
“What about the truck?” Dean asked.
“We’ll come back later and get it.”
“Dad …” Sam tried again.
"That’s an order, Sam." John said abruptly, before he stood up and left the room without another word.
Sam stared at the closed door through which his father had gone.
“Sam, let it be.” Dean said quietly, seeing the frustration in his brother’s eyes.
Sam visibly trembled, his lips pressed tightly together. He glared at Dean, but stayed quiet. He exhaled heavily and started pacing the room.
Sighing, Dean grabbed for the TV remote and started flipping through the channels. He should have known if things were good, they never stayed that way for very long.
After two hours of pacing the room and listening to his brother’s attempts to cheer him up, Sam had enough.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” He said.
Before Dean could reply, Sam had left their motel room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Dean alone.
“Damn.” He groaned. Their Dad would freak out if Sam wasn’t here when he came back and Dean would be stuck right in the middle of it. Again.
No, things never really stayed good in their family for very long.
TBC