Hello Yesterday 10/?
Chapter 10
A lance of pain shot through Sam's skull bringing him to his knees. Clutching his head with both hands he tried to breathe through the pain while images flashed in his mind. This wasn't like with the memories, this was different and not only because of the pain splitting his head open. This couldn't be a memory because he knew for sure that Dean wasn't dead.
He drowned in images, too much, too fast, but he had to hold on to it. He had to.
"Sammy!" A voice pierced through the fog of pain, pulling him back, but he didn't want to let go, he needed to remember every little detail. Because Dean wasn't dead yet and if he could just remember enough of this he would be able to save him, he knew that. So Sam welcomed the pain, forced himself to look what the vision showed him.
"Sammy, c'mon, man." There were arms around him, holding him tight. The last image faded and the real world came into view again. Through watery eyes he tried to figure out where he was and what just happened.
"You with me again?" The voice, Dean, continued and Sam managed a nod. He was on the floor in Bobby's study. His book had slipped under the couch and for a moment he just focused on that, not ready to deal with the rest just yet.
Dean was kneeling next to him, still holding him and for a second Sam just leaned into him. He was alive. Dean was alive.
"Sam?"
"'M good." He mumbled and sighed in relief when the pain finally left him. Now he felt just tired but he couldn't sleep, not now. Not when Dean was about to die.
"Okay, up you go." Dean announced when Sam failed to move on his own. With a practiced move Dean hauled him off the ground and dropped him on the couch. "I'm guessing that wasn't another memory." He said it with a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder, patiently waiting for him to come around.
"You didn't tell me that visions are this painful." Sam muttered. For another moment he let his head hang and enjoyed the comforting contact of Dean's hand on his shoulder. Dean's warm and alive hand on his shoulder.
"What did you see?" Dean ask gently and sat down next to him.
"I saw you." Sam swallowed against his dry throat. "On the ground. I think ... you weren't moving and there was blood."
Dean didn't say a word but the hand on his shoulder tightened. It wasn't painful, though, quite the opposite. Sam was still amazed how grounding a simple touch like this from Dean could be.
"What else did you see?" He finally asked.
"I ... it doesn't make sense." He shook his head while he tried to bring the images in his mind into an order.
"These visions are tied to the demon." Dean revealed a fact he had kept to himself until now. "Your vision always show you something involving somebody like you. What else did you see?"
"There was this man." He tried to bring his face into focus. It was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place it. "He had a gun. And I ... he shot you and then he shot me." He paused, replaying the scene in his head. A construction side, raw wooden beams and plastic tarp, Dean's body on the ground. He heard his own voice echoing in his head, screaming in denial. And then a man stepped around the corner and raised his gun at him.
"It's over, Sam." The man said. The gunshot rang in Sam's ears.
Sam had thought that seeing his own death would scare him more but that wasn't what bothered him about the vision. It was Dean's death which shook him to the core. Dean couldn't die. Sam wouldn't let him die. Not that he was telling Dean that. Instead he described every little detail he could remember from the vision. If they wanted to prevent this from happening, they needed as much information as they could get.
Dean listened to him without interrupting. And he kept his hand on Sam's shoulder. Only when Sam had finished the hand left and Dean turned a little so he could face him.
"This man." He said after a moment. "He your age?"
"No." Sam shook his head. "He was older." He paused. "Why would he be my age?"
Now it was Dean's time to sigh. Beyond the fact that Sam could get visions they hadn't talked much about this but now it became clear that Dean knew more about them than he had let on about earlier.
"This demon." Dean started. "He did something to you and other like you. All born in '83."
Sam nodded to that. "And you think the man who's going to shoot us ..." He had to stop there, this thought was just too insane. "He's one of them? Of us? Why?"
That seemed to be the question of the day. Why? Sam felt like a toddler, driving his parents nuts with those questions, but he needed to know. And for once Dean seemed willing to talk.
"You get visions. Others have other abilities." Dean washed his hand down his face. "Some went dark side."
There was a beat of silence. Sam didn't like the implications behind that. Would he go dark side? What did that even mean?
"There was this kid, Max, he killed his whole family." Dean said in a flat tone without looking at Sam. "He had a shitty life, I get that, but what he did ..."
"That was one." Sam tried to reason with him. He didn't even know how many like him were out there. One out of a hundred wasn't that much. One out of ten one the other hand ...
"There is more." Dean shook his head. "There were these twins, separated at birth, they didn't know each other." Dean started the next story and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. "One turned out okay but the other one ... he killed a whole bunch of people before we could stop him."
Stop him had a very final ring to it. Sam swallowed thickly.
"So you're saying that I could turn out a killer was well?" He asked quietly.
Dean flinched as if he'd hit him.
"No!" He almost yelled the word. "That's not you, you're not a killer."
"I don't know." Because he really didn't know. For all he knew he could have been a serial killer before he'd woken up in that hospital bed without his memory. "Our job sounds pretty violent to me." He only half-joked. He didn't really know what their job was like. Apparently they stopped bad people.
"We kill monsters." Dean stated firmly and locked eyes with him. "There is a clear line and we don't cross it. You've never crossed it."
And you?, was the question on the tip of Sam's tongue but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer.
"Anyway." Dean ended the moment with a short shake of his head. "This man who's going to shoot you. What does he look like?"
There was no doubt in his voice that what Sam had seen was about to happen. But there was confidence in there as well that they would stop this before they both ended up dead. The promise that Dean would do everything in his power to prevent it from happening. Something loosened in Sam's chest.
"A black guy. Older than us." Sam tried to bring his face back. "I've seen him before."
"Like before before?" Dean perked up at that.
"No." Sam shook his head, trying to place the face.
C'mon, Sam, he encouraged himself. There ain't that many people you know.
"Coffee." The word burst out of him which got him a confused look from Dean.
"You want coffee?" Dean asked still puzzled.
"No, that's where I've seen him before." Now he remembered the incident. "I ran into him when I got breakfast. Spilled his coffee. Told you he was a creep."
"Your definition of creepy is a bit off at the moment." Dean teased him but became serious the next second. "Anything else you remember about him?"
Chewing his bottom lip Sam thought about the encounter. "He looked spooked, at least at first. Then he seemed angry. As if he knew me." That realization hit him like a train. How could he have missed that? The guy knew him.
"He knew you?" Dean sounded as surprised as Sam felt. "In your vision, he used your name." The last bit was more thinking loud than anything else.
"I don't know if it's important." There was something else he remembered about their encounter.
"Everything is important." Dean assured him. "Did you hear something or smelled something weird maybe?"
"No, nothing like that." Sam tried to recall how he'd felt back then. "We had some kind of stand-off in front of the diner and I really wished I had a gun." He paused and for the first time he wondered how that would have ended if they hadn't been interrupted. "I think he had one."
Dean was silent for a moment but Sam could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.
"Son of a bitch." Dean jumped up, startling Sam but before he could asked, Dean was over at the desk and at Bobby's computer.
"What is it?" Slower, he still felt a bit weak in the knees, Sam followed him while Dean was punching the keyboard.
"This the guy you saw?" He pointed at the screen.
Sam wasn't sure if he would recognize him from the diner alone but in his vision he had a very good look at his face.
"That's him. I'm sure." He squinted at the screen. He did remember the face from earlier but nothing from before he'd lost his memory. "Who is he?" The fact that he was looking at this man's mugshot didn't help to ease his mind.
"Gordon Walker." Dean said it with disgust dripping from the words. "The biggest asshole on the planet. And he has a personal vendetta against you."
"Why?" Sam couldn't shake off the lingering images from the vision. The hatred he'd seen in the other man's eyes. To get Sam he was willing to kill Dean as well, just because he was in the way, Sam didn't need Dean to lay that one out to him. This Walker guy was dangerous.
"Because he's insane." Dean huffed with an angry wave at the picture on the screen. "He thinks you're the Antichrist."
Taken aback Sam didn't know what to say.
He thought of the others who went rogue, the ones who needed to be stopped. He could tell how worried Dean was. And he was pretty sure that Dean was still holding back something important.
"Am I?" He finally asked. "The Antichrist?" Which by itself was ridiculous.
"What? No. Of course not." Dean answered a bit too quickly. Catching himself Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, I know you. You're not evil. And you won't turn evil."
Sam didn't remember anything like this but the conversation felt familiar. As if they had an argument like this before. Often enough for Sam to still kind of remember it.
"But the others …"
"You have one advantage the others didn't have." Dean locked eyes with him. "You have me."
For some reason Sam felt better now. A smile ghosted over his lips.
"We know that Gordon is coming so he can't surprise us anymore." Dean sounded confident and Sam wondered how often they had actually managed to prevent his visions from happening. He didn't dare to ask.
Suddenly Dean started to snicker.
"What?" Sam raised an eyebrow at him.
"Dude, you spilled coffee over Gordon frigging Walker."
Masterpost