SPN Fic: Shape of Things to Come
Title: Shape of Things to Come
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Rating/Characters: Gen, PG-13, Sam, Dean, John, plus some surprise guests
Author’s Notes: ~6,200 words. Pre-pilot AU. Written for kroki_refur for the 2008 spn_summmergen fic exchange.
Summary: Pre-Stanford, Sam starts to get visions and everything changes.
Normally, Dean liked working in garages. It was easy money, he enjoyed the cars, and as a rule the guys he worked with were usually quiet, chill, and not into small chat. If they talked, it was the local baseball scores, the many and varied assets of the girls they were seeing, or the cars they were fixing up. They stayed out of a guy’s personal business. But the problem with working in a home-run garage in a small town was that sometimes, there was an exception to that rule.
“Hey, your brother doing okay, Dean?”
With an opening like that, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. He stopped fiddling with the carburetor he was working on, and turned to look over his shoulder at Barry. “Sammy? Yeah, he’s fine. Growing like a beanpole and eating anything and everything he can find in the fridge.” He forced himself to let out a small chuckle.
“Mary-Ellen said he had another one of his spells at school on Monday,” Barry said and Dean could hear the concern in his voice.
Dean swore under his breath. The little shit. Sam had promised to tell him if he had another one.
Barry came around in front of Dean, cleaning his greasy hands on a towel. “You think you should let your old man know? It could be something serious -- Sam might need some tests.”
“Dad’s home in two weeks,” Dean said, trying to keep a confident tone in his voice. “Sam’ll be fine.”
Barry searched his face, as if looking for reassurance that he was doing the right thing, butting into their business. “You know, if you need the money for the doctor, I’d be happy to give you an advance on your next couple paychecks.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean said, between gritted teeth. “Thanks, Barry.” Barry clapped him on the shoulder and left to help a customer.
Dean returned his attention to the carburetor, but he couldn’t concentrate. Time to have a chat with Sam -- his brother hadn’t kept up his end of the deal.
***
When Dean walked in the door at 4:30, Sam wasn’t in his usual position in the kitchen, perched on the rickety stool, enormous sandwich in one hand and finishing his homework with the other.
“Sam?” Dean called. There was no answer but the door was unlocked, and Dean could see Sam’s backpack lying on the ground where he usually flung it. “Sammy?” he called again, easing out a knife out of the sheath he had strapped to his right calf. He started down the short hallway, going past Dad’s closed bedroom door, his own closet-of-a-room and on to Sam’s. The door was half open, and even as he slowly pushed on it, he could sense someone was inside.
“Dammit, Sam,” he said, even as he breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the back of his brother’s head. He slipped the knife back into its spot. “If I’m calling, you’d better be answering.”
“Dean?” Sam looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, and Dean’s stomach turned over once more. Sam had a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were barely aware Dean was there, and they were red, as if he had been crying.
Dean carefully made his way into the room, stepping across piles of dirty laundry and stacks of books, stopping just short of the bed. “Yeah?” he answered. “You okay?” He gave Sam the once-over. No obvious wounds that he could see and he resisted the urge to shake the news out of his brother.
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. “She’s dead,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“Who’s dead?” Dean said. He knelt down so that he was in Sam’s direct line of sight. His brother’s eyes were wide and terrified, a look he usually only saw when they saved near-victims during their hunts. “Sammy, hey, look at me. You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong? Is it something with your visions… or whatever the hell they are? Barry at work said that he heard you had another one at school on Monday.”
Sam turned his head, and met Dean’s worried glance. “Yeah,” he answered hoarsely. He attempted a smile. “Didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“That wasn’t the dea-,” Dean started to say, but then he stopped, remembering Sam’s first words. They had more important things to worry about. “Who’s dead?” he demanded.
Sam held out a crumpled piece of newspaper. Now that he was closer, Dean could see that there were newspapers strewn haphazardly around on the bed. “On Monday, at school when it happened… I saw a women burn to death on the ceiling.”
Dean’s breath caught as he took the piece of paper from Sam. “Like Mom?”
Sam hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think so, anyway.” He gestured to the paper. “That’s the women, I recognize her. I saw her picture in the paper today.”
Local woman dies in fire, husband and baby son manage to escape, read the article’s headline. The picture showed a smiling brunette holding a baby in her arms. “I thought you said the images went too fast in your visions for you to be able to identify people,” Dean said, as he scanned through the article. Margaret Fletcher, 29 years old, married, one kid, a six-month-old son, Darren. The fire had happened in a town the next county over. Only a twenty-minute drive away.
“They did, the first two times,” Sam said. “But this time, Dean… it was like I was there. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t stop it… I could feel the heat, smell the flesh…” he swallowed convulsively, looking pale and sick. “I thought it was… I dunno, a nightmare?”
“In the middle of the day?” Dean demanded. “With images like that?”
“I didn’t think it was real,” Sam said, his voice a whisper.
“Well, we have proof now,” Dean shook his head. He thought of something. “Did you see what caused it?”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“I’m calling Dad.” Dean said. He stood up from his crouch and reached for his phone.
“No!” Sam lunged across the bed and grabbed his arm. “Dean, you can’t!”
Dean looked at him, wondering if his brother had lost his mind. He grabbed Sam’s other arm and making sure his brother was facing him, tried to calm him down. “Sam. You’re having freaky visions about the thing that killed Mom. I think Dad has a right to know. Hell, he’s probably the only one who’d know how to deal with it.”
“No,” Sam said, but he didn't say anything when Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number.
He got a recording: “This phone is currently out of service range. Please wait until the customer you have dialed has returned to an area that our company…”
“No answer.” Dean thumbed the cover closed.
“Must be still in the desert,” Sam replied, relief evident in his voice. “Guess we’ll have to wait until he gets back.”
“Mmmm,” Dean said. “I wonder if there’s anyone else…” He thought about their contacts that Dad had alienated over the last couple of years. If all else failed, they could phone Pastor Jim…
“Nuh uh, Dean. Don’t, please. Let’s just wait until we get a hold of Dad,” Sam pleaded.
Dean exhaled heavily and threw his phone onto the bed. “Tell you what I shoulda done, I should’ve called him last week when this whole thing started. Should’ve known that no one starts getting nightmares at your age, especially in our family. And now they’re more like head-aches… with friggin’ visions?”
“Dean.” Sam was pacing across the narrow space between his bed and wall, hands on his head, as if trying to squeeze some sense into the events that were happening. He stopped and turned to his brother. “Why me? Why now? Why I am getting them? What do they mean?”
“I… I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean said, and the scared look in Sam’s eyes had him searching for words to reassure him. “But you’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out and… maybe this is the break we’ve been looking for. Maybe it’s a link in finally tracking down the thing that killed Mom.”
“But what if… what if these visions mean… ” Sam trailed off.
“If they mean what?”
Sam ignored the question. “This isn’t normal,” he said.
“You’ll be fine,” Dean said roughly, ignoring instincts that screamed the danger in every inch of the situation. “In the meantime, we do everything we can that’ll give Dad as head start when he gets back. You tell me everything you remember about the vision, and we’ll build a file. We’ll ward the house with extra charms and salt lines. And if you feel another one coming on, you let me know.”
Sam nodded, not looking particularly reassured.
“And we take extra precautions,” Dean said.
“Extra precautions…?”
***
“This is so embarrassing,” Sam said the next morning, slumped down as far as his six-foot frame would let him slide in the seat as Dean pulled up to the front steps.
“Suck it up, princess,” Dean told him, cutting the engine. He ignored the curious stares of the smoker kids standing nearby.
“Hey, nice car,” one of them offered as he took a long drag on his cigarette.
“Thanks,” Dean said. “You know, those things’ll kill you,” he offered in return. The guy gave him the finger. Dean cheerfully returned the favor. High school, at times he almost missed it. Almost.
“Dean!” Sam yelped in outrage as he noticed their surroundings. “I said drop me off at the entrance of the parking lot, not the entrance.”
Dean just gave him a wide grin in return.
Swearing under his breath, Sam grabbed his bag and opened the door, unfolding himself from the seat.
“I’ll be here at three, or is it three thirty?” Dean asked.
He got the Impala’s door slammed in response.
“Guess so,” he chuckled.
A tap on his window drew his attention away from Sam’s retreating figure. He turned his head and was greeted with the best rack he’d seen in the three months they’d lived in this pokey little Missouri town.
He dragged his eyes upward. “Hi,” the girl said, leaning on his window. Black hair, pale skin accented with make-up, and chipped black fingernails drummed on his rolled-down window. Of course, had to be a goth girl. Hard to relate to, but hey, it’d only been two years since he’d been in high school himself, he could fake it well enough.
“Hey,” he said, smiling in return.
***
Dean had managed to get down Holly’s number (drawn in black eyeliner on his hand) and they had managed to move onto their mutual hatred of eighties punk bands, when he heard a commotion behind him.
“Hey!” An Asian kid that Dean vaguely recognized as one of Sam’s friends came skidding around the edge of the Impala. He was out of breath and panting “You’re… Sam’s… brother, right?” He gulped down a breath. “Sam’s… something’s wrong.”
Dean didn’t wait to hear the rest, he was already out of the car, and running towards the crowd that was gathering just beyond the entrance of the building.
He pushed through the widening group of kids until he could see Sam kneeling on the ground, with a worried looking teacher standing over him.
Sam’s face was scrunched up in agony, his eyes closed and his fingers pressed into his temples. Dean ran over and knelt next to him. “Sammy? Sam, can you hear me?” He grabbed Sam’s forearms.
“No! No!” Sam shouted, squirming away from Dean’s hold. “Don’t…,” his voice cracked, and he started to moan under his breath, still clutching his head.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
The students around Dean were chattering excitedly, and one of the girls shoved her cellphone near his face. “I don’t need it,” Dean growled, concentrating all his attention on Sam, whose eyes were flickering open, focusing unsteadily on Dean.
“Dean…” he said faintly. “Get me out of here,” he murmured. A groan escaped from his throat, and his eyes squeezed shut again, and he shuddered.
“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean said. He looked over to the teacher standing a close guard over them, and keeping the rest of the kids back. “I’m his brother,” he told her. “Let me take him home.”
The teacher pursed her lips. “With all due respect, Mr. Winchester, I think Sam needs to go to the hospital.”
“Sure, yeah, the hospital. I’ll take him right there,” Dean agreed.
“No,” he could hear Sam whisper in his ear, but Dean ignored him, wanting just to get Sam out of the school and into a place that could be warded.
Slowly, he helped Sam stand, and the teacher cleared a path to the door.
***
Dean kept a close eye on Sam as he drove, switching his concentration only when attempting to phone their father again. Still no answer, and Dean slammed his fist on the steering wheel after the third "this phone is out of the service area…" message.
By the time they arrived back at the house, Sam was calm and no longer clutching his head, although he was still pale and wide-eyed.
“It’s over?”
Sam nodded, his mouth in a thin line. He unbuckled his seat-belt and took a deep breath. Without a word, he got out of the car, and ran into the house.
Dean let out a stream of curses, following him. “Sam?”
“We’ve got to drive to Guthrie,” Sam called from his bedroom. He rushed past his brother, heading to the cabinet that held their hunting supplies.
“Guthrie? Where the hell is that?” Dean asked, tracking his brother around the house as Sam picked up items, either shoving them in a duffel bag or discarding them.
“Oklahoma,” Sam said. He grabbed their battered US road-atlas, thumbing through until he found the page he was looking for. He traced the route on the map. “It’s about five hours from here. We still have time.” He slammed the atlas shut and tossed it in the bag.
“Sam, slow down,” Dean ordered. “Tell me what the hell you saw, and why we need to go to Oklahoma.”
“Because we can stop it from happening again,” Sam said. He turned to look at Dean, his face as serious as Dean had ever seen it. “The last time I had the vision in the day, but the fire didn’t happen in the evening. I think it’s the same for this one.”
“What did you see?”
Sam shook his head. “I’ll tell you on the way. We need to get some more supplies. Supplies that Dad doesn’t usually carry.”
“Wait, hold up--” Dean put up a hand, stopping Sam from going past him. “What are we dealing with here, exactly?”
Sam fidgeted, meeting Dean’s eyes briefly before looking past him. “It’s a demon.”
“You’re sure?” Dean knew he was staring. “Sam, are you sure it’s a demon?”
Sam looked down, biting his lip. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Fuckin’ hell.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know about this.” He thought about what Dad would say about him taking Sam into the path of a demon, especially one that might have designs on him anyway, if these visions were any indication.
“Then people are going to die,” Sam said. There was a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m having visions of people dying, and I’m not going to be hiding behind some salt line because I’m too scar--”
Dean held up his hand, and Sam stopped, chewing his lower lip and watching Dean while Dean tried to think. “Dad keeps exorcism supplies in the cellar,” he said finally. “I’ll get them. You get the rest of the stuff-and don’t forget the rosemary and sage this time.”
Sam nodded. “Okay,” he agreed.
As Dean went down into the musty-smelling cellar, he couldn’t help but have the sinking feeling that this plan sounded worse and worse the more he thought about it.
***
“Right,” Dean said, after they turned onto the freeway, heading south-west on Route 66, towards the Oklahoma border. “We have a five hour drive ahead of us. Want to tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?”
Sam was staring out the window, and didn’t answer for a few moments. Finally he started talking, continuing to look out at the scenery flying by.
“It started like the other ones-flashes of light and images, a feeling like someone’s trying to stab knives through my head. I tried to head to a less crowded area, hide in a corner or something so I wouldn’t be noticed. But it happened too fast,” he said.
“It turned into a… almost like a movie, like I was there, watching it happen right in front of me. First, I’m in a car, driving into a town, and the sign says, Guthrie, Oklahoma. It’s later and I’m still sitting in a car, watching a dark house… there’s a flash of light in the upstairs room. Another woman, she’s going to be pinned to the ceiling, and set on fire. And there’s a baby… but this time, someone… a man--no, a demon, is there to take the baby away.” Sam’s voice was soft and sounded distant, as if he were recollecting a long-buried memory.
“And…” Sam hesitated.
“What?”
“You’re there.”
Dean shook his head. “How could I be there? Unless…”
“Don’t you see, Dean?” Sam said, finally turning his head to look at him. “It’s already happened in the future. That’s how I know we have to be there to stop it.”
“What was I doing in your vision? Killing the evil son-of-a-bitch?”
“No,” Sam shook his head reluctantly. “You were pinned against the wall, on the other side of the nursery. You were struggling and shouting but you couldn’t do anything but watch while the woman was pulled up onto the ceiling, and set afire. And that’s all I saw.”
Dean felt a shiver run across his back at Sam’s words. “And you didn’t think to tell me before this? Jesus Christ--give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn around and drag your ass into a demon-protected bunker?”
“Because this family is going to end up like ours--”
“This sounds more like a trap, Sam.”
“I’m doing this whether you come with me or not,” Sam said, his voice taking on an edge.
“How’re you going to do that when I got the transportation and hunting supplies in my car, huh?” Dean shot back.
Sam glared at him.
Dean turned his attention back to driving.
“Okay, here’s the game plan-we go in smart.” he said after ten minutes of stony silence. “We go in quick, and dirty, and we change the friggin’ future, save this woman. And if at anytime I feel this is going south, we are getting the fuck out. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Fine.” He leaned back against the car-seat, frowning.
“Now, tell me about the vision again,” Dean said. “All the details, anything you remember.”
***
It was 10:00 p.m. and the last of the lights had just gone out in the Fernandez household. Dean took a sip of his cold coffee and grimaced. They had arrived in Guthrie mid-afternoon and spent the rest of the day digging up any information they could find on the targeted family. Teresa and Eli Fernandez, with their young son Eduardo, who was exactly six months old today. Just like the Winchester family, when Mary Winchester had died on Sam’s six month birthday, sixteen years ago. The parallels between all these visions and his family’s history had Dean on edge and uneasy.
“Almost action time,” he said, picking up the binoculars, careful to keep them from reflecting in the moonlight and giving away their location to nosey neighbors. The house looked quiet and peaceful, with no indication that a woman would be murdered in it tonight unless they stopped it.
“We should get ready to run,” Sam agreed. He caressed the bottle of holy water sitting beside him. In his fingers he held the rosary beads, clacking them together in nervousness.
“You remember the rules of engagement?” Dean asked.
“Yep,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “I remember.”
“Make sure you do,” Dean said. “Demons are a whole ‘nother ball-game. Dad and I have only hunted them a few times, and they weren’t easy marks by any stretch.”
Sam nodded. He put down the rosary and started tapping his fingers on the window, in a tune that Dean could almost recognize. He stopped after a few seconds, bending down and squinting to look out the dark window. His hand was on the door handle. “Dean, something’s outside, watching us.” He grabbed a flashlight.
“Wait a sec-” But Sam was already out of the car. Dean grabbed his own handgun, and opened his own door, reflecting that it was a lot harder to run a hunt when your younger brother didn’t listen to anything you said.
He spotted the dark shapes ahead behind the nearest tree and made his way over to Sam.
The beam of Sam's flashlight revealed two teenagers, a girl and a boy, both around Sam's age. They stood still as if the flashlight beam had caught them.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam demanded.
The girl and the boy held up their hands. Then the girl squinted and took a step forward.
“It’s you! Oh, thank God.” The girl's shoulders slumped in relief. “It’s Sam.” She turned to the boy, lowering her hands. “I told you we’d find him here, Andy.”
Dean looked over at Sam, wondering how his brother knew people in Oklahoma, but there was confusion on Sam’s face as well. “How do you know my name?” Sam asked. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ava, Ava Wilson, and this Andy.”She hugged her arms over her chest, shivering in her jean jacket.
“Can’t he talk for himself?” Dean asked, shining the light into the boy’s eyes. He looked like the typical high school stoner, long stringy hair, acne and a Bob Marley T-shirt. He ducked his head.
“Andy… doesn’t like to talk,” Ava said, glancing over at him. “He can though, if he needs to.”
“Okay, then. You can explain for the both of you--how do you know my brother’s name?” Dean asked. He was suddenly aware of Sam carefully uncorking his canteen of holy water.
“I… er, I… saw him,” Ava said, suddenly reluctant.
“Saw him, where?” But Dean thought he had an idea.
Ava confirmed it with her next words. “Look, I know it sounds crazy… but just let me explain,” she said. Her resigned expression hinted that she had given this explanation to people before. “I have… dreams. Dreams that are real. Seriously! Not making it up.” She held up a pinkie, as if to swear. “And I saw you--” she gestured to Sam. “Last night, in my dream.”
“What happened in this dream?” Dean asked, while Sam asked at the same time. “What was I doing?”
Ava frowned. “You believe me? Oh.”
Sam nodded fervently. “I have dreams that come true too-but you weren’t in any of mine,” he said, frowning.
“Huh,” Ava said. “All I know is that I spent half of my summer savings to get here because there’s going to be a woman burned on her ceiling tonight. No one else believes me, except Andy, but I know it’s going to happen, and I’m going to stop it. And I think you’re key in helping stop it too,” she finished, staring at Sam.
“Shit,” Dean said, as a flash caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Sam…” Lights were flickering on through a window on the second floor of the Fernandez’s house. Just like Sam had described in his vision.
Dean raced back to the car. He grabbed their duffle bag filled with supplies, then hurried back to Sam.
“Stay here,” Dean ordered Andy and Ava.
Sam was already sprinting ahead, the canteen of holy water banging against his long legs.
They raced up the steps of the front porch. The door was locked, but a minute of with the lock-pick from Sam, and it swung open without a hitch.
The clatter of feet behind them had Dean realizing that their unexpected company wasn’t about to be left behind.
“I said stay here,” he shouted back to them. “It’s dangerous.”
“Dude, who left you in charge?” Ava said. She was clutching Andy’s arm in excitement or fear and they both held cans of what Dean assumed was mace.
Dean was saved from responding by the appearance of a burly man wielding a baseball bat that he could only assume was Eli Fernandez.
With a loud cry, Eli rushed at Dean with the bat. Almost misjudging the speed of the man coming at him, Dean dodged out of the way, wheeling around to deliver an chop on the back of the man’s neck, knocking him to the ground. Another quick punch knocked him out for the count. Dean looked around for Sam and the other two kids. Dean cursed. He heard their feet racing up the stairs ahead of him, already headed upstairs without any weapons other than mace and holy water. Stupid-ass kids.
He hauled ass, taking the stairs two at a time, bursting through the door into a scene he could describe in his sleep. This time though, it was the real thing.
A man--no, a demon, Dean could see the glint of his eyes--was by the crib, gazing down at the baby. Above him, Teresa Fernandez was slowly sliding up the wall.
Sam, Ava and Andy were standing in a line about five feet back from the crib.
“Stop!” Ava said, with a quaver in her voice. She held the mace can out in front of her. Beside her, Andy mimicked her position.
Teresa Fernandez hung midway up the wall, her legs dangling in the air. The room was quiet except for her sobs.
The demon chuckled. “Children, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said, in a mock paternal tone. “You surprised me.” He smiled, a thin, balding man who could’ve been anyone’s father. The only part giving him away was his shadowy, fire-lit eyes, and an utter stillness in his facial features. No one at home behind that mask, Dean thought.
Sam flung a spray of holy water at him. “Leave them alone!” he shouted while brandishing the cask.
The demon dodged the water easily, but a few drops landed on his arm, hissing and spitting where they touched skin. He shook his head slowly, his yellow eyes flashing in the half-lit nursery. “Tsk, tsk,” he said. “Is that any way to treat a friend?”
With a wave of his hand, he sent the three of them flying with an invisible blow, knocking Ava and Andy down, and slamming Sam against a wall.
He looked past them and saw Dean, standing in the door. Dean didn’t waste any time, the exorcism ritual was already out in his hands. “Spiritus imm--” A blow knocked the book out of his hand, and another, stronger one picked him up and flung him against the wall opposite the demon. Just like in Sam’s vision. Dean closed his eyes as the room spun and he struggled to breathe in air that had been knocked out of him.
He opened his eyes again, just in time to see the demon approaching Sam. “Well, aren’t you coming along nicely?” the demon crooned, stroking Sam’s cheek, while Sam struggled helplessly against the wall, gasping for breath.
“You too, darling,” he said to Ava, who was struggling to get up on the floor, a gash on her head bleeding. “You’re showing real promise.”
Andy was cowering in the corner, and the demon spat in his direction. “Waste of a talent,” he said. Andy’s head poked above his knees, and he glared at the demon, shaking his head mutely. The demon just laughed. “You’ll learn,” he said. “Or you’ll die.”
He turned his attention from Andy and faced Dean. “And you, I could kill you now,” he said, gazing at him, and tapping his chin slowly in thought. “Dean Winchester--no use to me.” He looked from Dean to Sam, and a slow grin appeared on his face. “But to Sam Winchester… what would he be like without his older brother? Shall we find out?” He raised a hand, and Dean felt himself being pushed even further against the wall.
As soon as Dean opened his mouth, attempting the exorcism again, a crushing force pressed against his windpipe and he choked. The room started to turn hazy around the edges as he kicked his feet futilely against the wall.
“Dean!” Sam shouted, struggling against the invisible bonds.
An invisible force struck the demon down. Bowled off-balance, the demon fell over a rocking horse sitting nearby.
The pressure eased on Dean, and he gasped in the air. But he still wasn’t free.
“Hmmm, impressive,” the yellow-eyed demon said, slowly standing back up. “Further along than I thought--I’ll reward you for that, and let your brother live for another day. But I’ll be seeing you again soon, Sammy-boy. I have plans for you,” he promised. He withdrew his hand, and then flicked it sharply, which snapped Sam’s head back against the wall. Sam winced in pain. Two invisible hands added a one-two punch and Sam’s mouth began bleeding sluggishly. “A souvenir to remember me by,” he said, walking past Sam and into the centre of the room.
The demon reached down into the crib, and gathered the wailing baby in his arms. “I’d love to stick around and see the end of this, but I’m afraid we’ve got to run.” He took one of the baby’s hands, and waved with it. “Say bye-bye.” A flash of light lit up the room, and Dean could finally see again, the demon was gone, along with baby Eduardo.
Dean suddenly dropped from the wall. Thuds around him let him know that Sam and Teresa had been released as well. A pounding on the locked door distracted them all for a moment. Eli Fernandez, awake from his forced nap.
“Where’s my son? Eddie!” Teresa Fernandez started to wail as she raced over to the empty crib.
Dean coughed, feeling like his chest had been crushed by a giant ton of bricks. The feeling wasn’t helped when Theresa descended on him, pulling at his clothes and slapping him.
“My son, what did you do with him?” she screamed into his face.
“I didn’t--” Dean said, trying to clear the ringing out of his head and concentrate on the panicked woman in front of him. “It wasn’t--” Out of the corner of his eye he could see the door fly and Eli Fernandez barged in. He headed straight for Dean with a murderous look in his eyes.
“Stand back from him,” a new voice spoke. Dean looked over Theresa’s shoulder for the source. It was Andy. He held up a hand, making a funny movement that almost looked like… like a Jedi mind trick. He gestured to Theresa. “Go stand with your husband,” Andy told her, doing the hand wave again.
Dean privately thought this request wasn’t going to be followed, especially coming from a geeky Star Wars wannabe. But surprisingly, Teresa obeyed. Her eyes had turned glassy and she stumbled back to her husband’s waiting arms, who was also strangely compliant, standing in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” Dean asked, suspicious. Andy looked back over his shoulder. “This is why I don’t talk,” he said sadly, before turning back to the Fernandezes. “This is the story you’re going to tell the police,” he began.
Dean watched as Andy spun a tale that involved a home invasion, a kidnapping of Eddie, and no mention of Dean, Sam, Ava or Andy or a yellow-eyed demon or being pinned to the ceiling.
“They’ll listen to you?” Sam asked, from where he was helping Ava up. Together they limped closer to Dean and Andy.
“Yeah,” Andy said with certainty. “But we should leave before the police get here. I’m sure they’ve already been called.”
They quickly exited, making sure to stay in the shadows. As Dean and Sam reached the Impala, Dean turned, planning to ask how the other two would be making their escape. He broached the subject. “You two got a ride?”
Andy and Ava shared a look. “We came on the bus,” Ava said uncertainly. “I guess…”
Sam shot Dean a look, and cleared his throat. “There’s room in our car,” Dean said. “Besides… I think we have some things to talk about.”
***
Twenty miles out of town, and Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the night’s events. He looked over at Sam, sitting in the passenger seat, his knees awkwardly drawn up to his chest, the bruises dark against his cheek and eyes, and his lip puffy from the punches. A glance to the backseat showed Andy and Ava curled up together, looking exhausted and shell-shocked.
Sam shifted in his seat. “Where are we going?” he asked Dean.
“Blue Mountain, and Pastor Jim’s,” Dean answered. “Safest place from a demon is in a church, and after Dad, Pastor Jim knows more about demons than anyone else.”
“Dean,” Sam said, his voice a whisper. “What that demon said tonight… he said he had plans for me.”
Dean bit the inside of his lip, this was the part of the night he wanted to forget. A number of questions worried him-the demon’s plans, his words that implied it had been Sam who had psychically knocked him over, what the hell was up with Andy, and Ava...but he had to keep his game face on for Sam. “Well, that’s too bad. He’s not getting you. Dad and I won’t let him.”
“I don’t want to be a freak,” Sam said, his voice miserable. He looked back at Andy and Ava, wondering if they had heard him, but they were fast asleep.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’ve always been a freak,” Dean told him.
A reluctant laugh came out of Sam. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he said. “Melting silver bullets, bow-hunting practice, hunting demons…not exactly normal.”
“It’s okay, ‘cause I’m right there with you, all the way,” Dean said, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye at his brother, and then returning his attention to the road.
“Thanks,” Sam said softly, looking at his feet.
Dean cleared his throat and slid his phone out of his pocket. He punched in a number. It rang. He breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his father’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“Dean. What’s wrong?”
Dean told him the story of the last week, with Sam watching anxiously.
“You took your brother into a hunt when the thing was gunning right for him?” Dad’s voice was disbelieving and disappointed. “Dean, I thought I taught you better than that.”
Dean winced. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to put Sam in danger. ” He glanced over quickly at his brother. “It’s just, well.. Sam and I… we didn’t want to see another family go through what ours has, and… well, you weren’t there, so I had to make the decision.”
His father stayed silent for so long that Dean thought he had lost him. “Hello?”
“Where direction are you headed?” Dad asked.
“Towards Blue Mountain,” Dean answered. “Thought it’d be the safest place.”
“I’ll meet you at Jim’s.” His father’s voice sounded tired, and Dean wondered where he was along his route back to Missouri. “Don’t stop too long at the gas stations, let Sam drive if you have to. Keep the holy water close at hand.” He rattled off a few more orders.
“Sure thing, Dad,” Dean promised
“And Dean- keep a close eye on your brother and those other two kids,” Dad said.
“Of course,” Dean said, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I looking out for Sammy?”
His father’s answer was surprisingly evasive. “I meant… keep a watch and just- don’t let them out of your sight.
“Dad?” Dean asked, the implications of his father’s request sinking in, and he felt a cold touch of fear. “Is Sa-”
“Dean. I can’t do this right now. I’ll explain more when we meet up,” said Dad. There was a click on the other end.
Dean stared down at his phone in disbelief. He closed it and looked over at the passenger seat.
Sam was fast asleep, his mouth open slightly, with a string of drool dripping down his chin.
A small smile crossed Dean’s face at the sight of his brother, and the feeling of dread that coursed throughout his whole body lessened slightly. No way could Sam’s psychic visions be part of some evil plan. But if even if they were, no sweat. They were Winchesters--they could fix it and handle whatever the future threw at them. Even if this was a bigger revelation than they had ever dealt with before- they could handle it.
At least, Dean hoped so. He drove on through the night, wondering whether the morning would hold the answers.
- 30 -
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing/Rating/Characters: Gen, PG-13, Sam, Dean, John, plus some surprise guests
Author’s Notes: ~6,200 words. Pre-pilot AU. Written for kroki_refur for the 2008 spn_summmergen fic exchange.
Summary: Pre-Stanford, Sam starts to get visions and everything changes.
Normally, Dean liked working in garages. It was easy money, he enjoyed the cars, and as a rule the guys he worked with were usually quiet, chill, and not into small chat. If they talked, it was the local baseball scores, the many and varied assets of the girls they were seeing, or the cars they were fixing up. They stayed out of a guy’s personal business. But the problem with working in a home-run garage in a small town was that sometimes, there was an exception to that rule.
“Hey, your brother doing okay, Dean?”
With an opening like that, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. He stopped fiddling with the carburetor he was working on, and turned to look over his shoulder at Barry. “Sammy? Yeah, he’s fine. Growing like a beanpole and eating anything and everything he can find in the fridge.” He forced himself to let out a small chuckle.
“Mary-Ellen said he had another one of his spells at school on Monday,” Barry said and Dean could hear the concern in his voice.
Dean swore under his breath. The little shit. Sam had promised to tell him if he had another one.
Barry came around in front of Dean, cleaning his greasy hands on a towel. “You think you should let your old man know? It could be something serious -- Sam might need some tests.”
“Dad’s home in two weeks,” Dean said, trying to keep a confident tone in his voice. “Sam’ll be fine.”
Barry searched his face, as if looking for reassurance that he was doing the right thing, butting into their business. “You know, if you need the money for the doctor, I’d be happy to give you an advance on your next couple paychecks.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean said, between gritted teeth. “Thanks, Barry.” Barry clapped him on the shoulder and left to help a customer.
Dean returned his attention to the carburetor, but he couldn’t concentrate. Time to have a chat with Sam -- his brother hadn’t kept up his end of the deal.
***
When Dean walked in the door at 4:30, Sam wasn’t in his usual position in the kitchen, perched on the rickety stool, enormous sandwich in one hand and finishing his homework with the other.
“Sam?” Dean called. There was no answer but the door was unlocked, and Dean could see Sam’s backpack lying on the ground where he usually flung it. “Sammy?” he called again, easing out a knife out of the sheath he had strapped to his right calf. He started down the short hallway, going past Dad’s closed bedroom door, his own closet-of-a-room and on to Sam’s. The door was half open, and even as he slowly pushed on it, he could sense someone was inside.
“Dammit, Sam,” he said, even as he breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the back of his brother’s head. He slipped the knife back into its spot. “If I’m calling, you’d better be answering.”
“Dean?” Sam looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, and Dean’s stomach turned over once more. Sam had a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were barely aware Dean was there, and they were red, as if he had been crying.
Dean carefully made his way into the room, stepping across piles of dirty laundry and stacks of books, stopping just short of the bed. “Yeah?” he answered. “You okay?” He gave Sam the once-over. No obvious wounds that he could see and he resisted the urge to shake the news out of his brother.
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. “She’s dead,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“Who’s dead?” Dean said. He knelt down so that he was in Sam’s direct line of sight. His brother’s eyes were wide and terrified, a look he usually only saw when they saved near-victims during their hunts. “Sammy, hey, look at me. You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong? Is it something with your visions… or whatever the hell they are? Barry at work said that he heard you had another one at school on Monday.”
Sam turned his head, and met Dean’s worried glance. “Yeah,” he answered hoarsely. He attempted a smile. “Didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“That wasn’t the dea-,” Dean started to say, but then he stopped, remembering Sam’s first words. They had more important things to worry about. “Who’s dead?” he demanded.
Sam held out a crumpled piece of newspaper. Now that he was closer, Dean could see that there were newspapers strewn haphazardly around on the bed. “On Monday, at school when it happened… I saw a women burn to death on the ceiling.”
Dean’s breath caught as he took the piece of paper from Sam. “Like Mom?”
Sam hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I think so, anyway.” He gestured to the paper. “That’s the women, I recognize her. I saw her picture in the paper today.”
Local woman dies in fire, husband and baby son manage to escape, read the article’s headline. The picture showed a smiling brunette holding a baby in her arms. “I thought you said the images went too fast in your visions for you to be able to identify people,” Dean said, as he scanned through the article. Margaret Fletcher, 29 years old, married, one kid, a six-month-old son, Darren. The fire had happened in a town the next county over. Only a twenty-minute drive away.
“They did, the first two times,” Sam said. “But this time, Dean… it was like I was there. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t stop it… I could feel the heat, smell the flesh…” he swallowed convulsively, looking pale and sick. “I thought it was… I dunno, a nightmare?”
“In the middle of the day?” Dean demanded. “With images like that?”
“I didn’t think it was real,” Sam said, his voice a whisper.
“Well, we have proof now,” Dean shook his head. He thought of something. “Did you see what caused it?”
Sam shook his head. “No.”
“I’m calling Dad.” Dean said. He stood up from his crouch and reached for his phone.
“No!” Sam lunged across the bed and grabbed his arm. “Dean, you can’t!”
Dean looked at him, wondering if his brother had lost his mind. He grabbed Sam’s other arm and making sure his brother was facing him, tried to calm him down. “Sam. You’re having freaky visions about the thing that killed Mom. I think Dad has a right to know. Hell, he’s probably the only one who’d know how to deal with it.”
“No,” Sam said, but he didn't say anything when Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number.
He got a recording: “This phone is currently out of service range. Please wait until the customer you have dialed has returned to an area that our company…”
“No answer.” Dean thumbed the cover closed.
“Must be still in the desert,” Sam replied, relief evident in his voice. “Guess we’ll have to wait until he gets back.”
“Mmmm,” Dean said. “I wonder if there’s anyone else…” He thought about their contacts that Dad had alienated over the last couple of years. If all else failed, they could phone Pastor Jim…
“Nuh uh, Dean. Don’t, please. Let’s just wait until we get a hold of Dad,” Sam pleaded.
Dean exhaled heavily and threw his phone onto the bed. “Tell you what I shoulda done, I should’ve called him last week when this whole thing started. Should’ve known that no one starts getting nightmares at your age, especially in our family. And now they’re more like head-aches… with friggin’ visions?”
“Dean.” Sam was pacing across the narrow space between his bed and wall, hands on his head, as if trying to squeeze some sense into the events that were happening. He stopped and turned to his brother. “Why me? Why now? Why I am getting them? What do they mean?”
“I… I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean said, and the scared look in Sam’s eyes had him searching for words to reassure him. “But you’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out and… maybe this is the break we’ve been looking for. Maybe it’s a link in finally tracking down the thing that killed Mom.”
“But what if… what if these visions mean… ” Sam trailed off.
“If they mean what?”
Sam ignored the question. “This isn’t normal,” he said.
“You’ll be fine,” Dean said roughly, ignoring instincts that screamed the danger in every inch of the situation. “In the meantime, we do everything we can that’ll give Dad as head start when he gets back. You tell me everything you remember about the vision, and we’ll build a file. We’ll ward the house with extra charms and salt lines. And if you feel another one coming on, you let me know.”
Sam nodded, not looking particularly reassured.
“And we take extra precautions,” Dean said.
“Extra precautions…?”
***
“This is so embarrassing,” Sam said the next morning, slumped down as far as his six-foot frame would let him slide in the seat as Dean pulled up to the front steps.
“Suck it up, princess,” Dean told him, cutting the engine. He ignored the curious stares of the smoker kids standing nearby.
“Hey, nice car,” one of them offered as he took a long drag on his cigarette.
“Thanks,” Dean said. “You know, those things’ll kill you,” he offered in return. The guy gave him the finger. Dean cheerfully returned the favor. High school, at times he almost missed it. Almost.
“Dean!” Sam yelped in outrage as he noticed their surroundings. “I said drop me off at the entrance of the parking lot, not the entrance.”
Dean just gave him a wide grin in return.
Swearing under his breath, Sam grabbed his bag and opened the door, unfolding himself from the seat.
“I’ll be here at three, or is it three thirty?” Dean asked.
He got the Impala’s door slammed in response.
“Guess so,” he chuckled.
A tap on his window drew his attention away from Sam’s retreating figure. He turned his head and was greeted with the best rack he’d seen in the three months they’d lived in this pokey little Missouri town.
He dragged his eyes upward. “Hi,” the girl said, leaning on his window. Black hair, pale skin accented with make-up, and chipped black fingernails drummed on his rolled-down window. Of course, had to be a goth girl. Hard to relate to, but hey, it’d only been two years since he’d been in high school himself, he could fake it well enough.
“Hey,” he said, smiling in return.
***
Dean had managed to get down Holly’s number (drawn in black eyeliner on his hand) and they had managed to move onto their mutual hatred of eighties punk bands, when he heard a commotion behind him.
“Hey!” An Asian kid that Dean vaguely recognized as one of Sam’s friends came skidding around the edge of the Impala. He was out of breath and panting “You’re… Sam’s… brother, right?” He gulped down a breath. “Sam’s… something’s wrong.”
Dean didn’t wait to hear the rest, he was already out of the car, and running towards the crowd that was gathering just beyond the entrance of the building.
He pushed through the widening group of kids until he could see Sam kneeling on the ground, with a worried looking teacher standing over him.
Sam’s face was scrunched up in agony, his eyes closed and his fingers pressed into his temples. Dean ran over and knelt next to him. “Sammy? Sam, can you hear me?” He grabbed Sam’s forearms.
“No! No!” Sam shouted, squirming away from Dean’s hold. “Don’t…,” his voice cracked, and he started to moan under his breath, still clutching his head.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should we call an ambulance?”
The students around Dean were chattering excitedly, and one of the girls shoved her cellphone near his face. “I don’t need it,” Dean growled, concentrating all his attention on Sam, whose eyes were flickering open, focusing unsteadily on Dean.
“Dean…” he said faintly. “Get me out of here,” he murmured. A groan escaped from his throat, and his eyes squeezed shut again, and he shuddered.
“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean said. He looked over to the teacher standing a close guard over them, and keeping the rest of the kids back. “I’m his brother,” he told her. “Let me take him home.”
The teacher pursed her lips. “With all due respect, Mr. Winchester, I think Sam needs to go to the hospital.”
“Sure, yeah, the hospital. I’ll take him right there,” Dean agreed.
“No,” he could hear Sam whisper in his ear, but Dean ignored him, wanting just to get Sam out of the school and into a place that could be warded.
Slowly, he helped Sam stand, and the teacher cleared a path to the door.
***
Dean kept a close eye on Sam as he drove, switching his concentration only when attempting to phone their father again. Still no answer, and Dean slammed his fist on the steering wheel after the third "this phone is out of the service area…" message.
By the time they arrived back at the house, Sam was calm and no longer clutching his head, although he was still pale and wide-eyed.
“It’s over?”
Sam nodded, his mouth in a thin line. He unbuckled his seat-belt and took a deep breath. Without a word, he got out of the car, and ran into the house.
Dean let out a stream of curses, following him. “Sam?”
“We’ve got to drive to Guthrie,” Sam called from his bedroom. He rushed past his brother, heading to the cabinet that held their hunting supplies.
“Guthrie? Where the hell is that?” Dean asked, tracking his brother around the house as Sam picked up items, either shoving them in a duffel bag or discarding them.
“Oklahoma,” Sam said. He grabbed their battered US road-atlas, thumbing through until he found the page he was looking for. He traced the route on the map. “It’s about five hours from here. We still have time.” He slammed the atlas shut and tossed it in the bag.
“Sam, slow down,” Dean ordered. “Tell me what the hell you saw, and why we need to go to Oklahoma.”
“Because we can stop it from happening again,” Sam said. He turned to look at Dean, his face as serious as Dean had ever seen it. “The last time I had the vision in the day, but the fire didn’t happen in the evening. I think it’s the same for this one.”
“What did you see?”
Sam shook his head. “I’ll tell you on the way. We need to get some more supplies. Supplies that Dad doesn’t usually carry.”
“Wait, hold up--” Dean put up a hand, stopping Sam from going past him. “What are we dealing with here, exactly?”
Sam fidgeted, meeting Dean’s eyes briefly before looking past him. “It’s a demon.”
“You’re sure?” Dean knew he was staring. “Sam, are you sure it’s a demon?”
Sam looked down, biting his lip. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Fuckin’ hell.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know about this.” He thought about what Dad would say about him taking Sam into the path of a demon, especially one that might have designs on him anyway, if these visions were any indication.
“Then people are going to die,” Sam said. There was a stubborn set to his jaw. “I’m having visions of people dying, and I’m not going to be hiding behind some salt line because I’m too scar--”
Dean held up his hand, and Sam stopped, chewing his lower lip and watching Dean while Dean tried to think. “Dad keeps exorcism supplies in the cellar,” he said finally. “I’ll get them. You get the rest of the stuff-and don’t forget the rosemary and sage this time.”
Sam nodded. “Okay,” he agreed.
As Dean went down into the musty-smelling cellar, he couldn’t help but have the sinking feeling that this plan sounded worse and worse the more he thought about it.
***
“Right,” Dean said, after they turned onto the freeway, heading south-west on Route 66, towards the Oklahoma border. “We have a five hour drive ahead of us. Want to tell me what’s going on in that freaky head of yours?”
Sam was staring out the window, and didn’t answer for a few moments. Finally he started talking, continuing to look out at the scenery flying by.
“It started like the other ones-flashes of light and images, a feeling like someone’s trying to stab knives through my head. I tried to head to a less crowded area, hide in a corner or something so I wouldn’t be noticed. But it happened too fast,” he said.
“It turned into a… almost like a movie, like I was there, watching it happen right in front of me. First, I’m in a car, driving into a town, and the sign says, Guthrie, Oklahoma. It’s later and I’m still sitting in a car, watching a dark house… there’s a flash of light in the upstairs room. Another woman, she’s going to be pinned to the ceiling, and set on fire. And there’s a baby… but this time, someone… a man--no, a demon, is there to take the baby away.” Sam’s voice was soft and sounded distant, as if he were recollecting a long-buried memory.
“And…” Sam hesitated.
“What?”
“You’re there.”
Dean shook his head. “How could I be there? Unless…”
“Don’t you see, Dean?” Sam said, finally turning his head to look at him. “It’s already happened in the future. That’s how I know we have to be there to stop it.”
“What was I doing in your vision? Killing the evil son-of-a-bitch?”
“No,” Sam shook his head reluctantly. “You were pinned against the wall, on the other side of the nursery. You were struggling and shouting but you couldn’t do anything but watch while the woman was pulled up onto the ceiling, and set afire. And that’s all I saw.”
Dean felt a shiver run across his back at Sam’s words. “And you didn’t think to tell me before this? Jesus Christ--give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn around and drag your ass into a demon-protected bunker?”
“Because this family is going to end up like ours--”
“This sounds more like a trap, Sam.”
“I’m doing this whether you come with me or not,” Sam said, his voice taking on an edge.
“How’re you going to do that when I got the transportation and hunting supplies in my car, huh?” Dean shot back.
Sam glared at him.
Dean turned his attention back to driving.
“Okay, here’s the game plan-we go in smart.” he said after ten minutes of stony silence. “We go in quick, and dirty, and we change the friggin’ future, save this woman. And if at anytime I feel this is going south, we are getting the fuck out. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Fine.” He leaned back against the car-seat, frowning.
“Now, tell me about the vision again,” Dean said. “All the details, anything you remember.”
***
It was 10:00 p.m. and the last of the lights had just gone out in the Fernandez household. Dean took a sip of his cold coffee and grimaced. They had arrived in Guthrie mid-afternoon and spent the rest of the day digging up any information they could find on the targeted family. Teresa and Eli Fernandez, with their young son Eduardo, who was exactly six months old today. Just like the Winchester family, when Mary Winchester had died on Sam’s six month birthday, sixteen years ago. The parallels between all these visions and his family’s history had Dean on edge and uneasy.
“Almost action time,” he said, picking up the binoculars, careful to keep them from reflecting in the moonlight and giving away their location to nosey neighbors. The house looked quiet and peaceful, with no indication that a woman would be murdered in it tonight unless they stopped it.
“We should get ready to run,” Sam agreed. He caressed the bottle of holy water sitting beside him. In his fingers he held the rosary beads, clacking them together in nervousness.
“You remember the rules of engagement?” Dean asked.
“Yep,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “I remember.”
“Make sure you do,” Dean said. “Demons are a whole ‘nother ball-game. Dad and I have only hunted them a few times, and they weren’t easy marks by any stretch.”
Sam nodded. He put down the rosary and started tapping his fingers on the window, in a tune that Dean could almost recognize. He stopped after a few seconds, bending down and squinting to look out the dark window. His hand was on the door handle. “Dean, something’s outside, watching us.” He grabbed a flashlight.
“Wait a sec-” But Sam was already out of the car. Dean grabbed his own handgun, and opened his own door, reflecting that it was a lot harder to run a hunt when your younger brother didn’t listen to anything you said.
He spotted the dark shapes ahead behind the nearest tree and made his way over to Sam.
The beam of Sam's flashlight revealed two teenagers, a girl and a boy, both around Sam's age. They stood still as if the flashlight beam had caught them.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam demanded.
The girl and the boy held up their hands. Then the girl squinted and took a step forward.
“It’s you! Oh, thank God.” The girl's shoulders slumped in relief. “It’s Sam.” She turned to the boy, lowering her hands. “I told you we’d find him here, Andy.”
Dean looked over at Sam, wondering how his brother knew people in Oklahoma, but there was confusion on Sam’s face as well. “How do you know my name?” Sam asked. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ava, Ava Wilson, and this Andy.”She hugged her arms over her chest, shivering in her jean jacket.
“Can’t he talk for himself?” Dean asked, shining the light into the boy’s eyes. He looked like the typical high school stoner, long stringy hair, acne and a Bob Marley T-shirt. He ducked his head.
“Andy… doesn’t like to talk,” Ava said, glancing over at him. “He can though, if he needs to.”
“Okay, then. You can explain for the both of you--how do you know my brother’s name?” Dean asked. He was suddenly aware of Sam carefully uncorking his canteen of holy water.
“I… er, I… saw him,” Ava said, suddenly reluctant.
“Saw him, where?” But Dean thought he had an idea.
Ava confirmed it with her next words. “Look, I know it sounds crazy… but just let me explain,” she said. Her resigned expression hinted that she had given this explanation to people before. “I have… dreams. Dreams that are real. Seriously! Not making it up.” She held up a pinkie, as if to swear. “And I saw you--” she gestured to Sam. “Last night, in my dream.”
“What happened in this dream?” Dean asked, while Sam asked at the same time. “What was I doing?”
Ava frowned. “You believe me? Oh.”
Sam nodded fervently. “I have dreams that come true too-but you weren’t in any of mine,” he said, frowning.
“Huh,” Ava said. “All I know is that I spent half of my summer savings to get here because there’s going to be a woman burned on her ceiling tonight. No one else believes me, except Andy, but I know it’s going to happen, and I’m going to stop it. And I think you’re key in helping stop it too,” she finished, staring at Sam.
“Shit,” Dean said, as a flash caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Sam…” Lights were flickering on through a window on the second floor of the Fernandez’s house. Just like Sam had described in his vision.
Dean raced back to the car. He grabbed their duffle bag filled with supplies, then hurried back to Sam.
“Stay here,” Dean ordered Andy and Ava.
Sam was already sprinting ahead, the canteen of holy water banging against his long legs.
They raced up the steps of the front porch. The door was locked, but a minute of with the lock-pick from Sam, and it swung open without a hitch.
The clatter of feet behind them had Dean realizing that their unexpected company wasn’t about to be left behind.
“I said stay here,” he shouted back to them. “It’s dangerous.”
“Dude, who left you in charge?” Ava said. She was clutching Andy’s arm in excitement or fear and they both held cans of what Dean assumed was mace.
Dean was saved from responding by the appearance of a burly man wielding a baseball bat that he could only assume was Eli Fernandez.
With a loud cry, Eli rushed at Dean with the bat. Almost misjudging the speed of the man coming at him, Dean dodged out of the way, wheeling around to deliver an chop on the back of the man’s neck, knocking him to the ground. Another quick punch knocked him out for the count. Dean looked around for Sam and the other two kids. Dean cursed. He heard their feet racing up the stairs ahead of him, already headed upstairs without any weapons other than mace and holy water. Stupid-ass kids.
He hauled ass, taking the stairs two at a time, bursting through the door into a scene he could describe in his sleep. This time though, it was the real thing.
A man--no, a demon, Dean could see the glint of his eyes--was by the crib, gazing down at the baby. Above him, Teresa Fernandez was slowly sliding up the wall.
Sam, Ava and Andy were standing in a line about five feet back from the crib.
“Stop!” Ava said, with a quaver in her voice. She held the mace can out in front of her. Beside her, Andy mimicked her position.
Teresa Fernandez hung midway up the wall, her legs dangling in the air. The room was quiet except for her sobs.
The demon chuckled. “Children, I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said, in a mock paternal tone. “You surprised me.” He smiled, a thin, balding man who could’ve been anyone’s father. The only part giving him away was his shadowy, fire-lit eyes, and an utter stillness in his facial features. No one at home behind that mask, Dean thought.
Sam flung a spray of holy water at him. “Leave them alone!” he shouted while brandishing the cask.
The demon dodged the water easily, but a few drops landed on his arm, hissing and spitting where they touched skin. He shook his head slowly, his yellow eyes flashing in the half-lit nursery. “Tsk, tsk,” he said. “Is that any way to treat a friend?”
With a wave of his hand, he sent the three of them flying with an invisible blow, knocking Ava and Andy down, and slamming Sam against a wall.
He looked past them and saw Dean, standing in the door. Dean didn’t waste any time, the exorcism ritual was already out in his hands. “Spiritus imm--” A blow knocked the book out of his hand, and another, stronger one picked him up and flung him against the wall opposite the demon. Just like in Sam’s vision. Dean closed his eyes as the room spun and he struggled to breathe in air that had been knocked out of him.
He opened his eyes again, just in time to see the demon approaching Sam. “Well, aren’t you coming along nicely?” the demon crooned, stroking Sam’s cheek, while Sam struggled helplessly against the wall, gasping for breath.
“You too, darling,” he said to Ava, who was struggling to get up on the floor, a gash on her head bleeding. “You’re showing real promise.”
Andy was cowering in the corner, and the demon spat in his direction. “Waste of a talent,” he said. Andy’s head poked above his knees, and he glared at the demon, shaking his head mutely. The demon just laughed. “You’ll learn,” he said. “Or you’ll die.”
He turned his attention from Andy and faced Dean. “And you, I could kill you now,” he said, gazing at him, and tapping his chin slowly in thought. “Dean Winchester--no use to me.” He looked from Dean to Sam, and a slow grin appeared on his face. “But to Sam Winchester… what would he be like without his older brother? Shall we find out?” He raised a hand, and Dean felt himself being pushed even further against the wall.
As soon as Dean opened his mouth, attempting the exorcism again, a crushing force pressed against his windpipe and he choked. The room started to turn hazy around the edges as he kicked his feet futilely against the wall.
“Dean!” Sam shouted, struggling against the invisible bonds.
An invisible force struck the demon down. Bowled off-balance, the demon fell over a rocking horse sitting nearby.
The pressure eased on Dean, and he gasped in the air. But he still wasn’t free.
“Hmmm, impressive,” the yellow-eyed demon said, slowly standing back up. “Further along than I thought--I’ll reward you for that, and let your brother live for another day. But I’ll be seeing you again soon, Sammy-boy. I have plans for you,” he promised. He withdrew his hand, and then flicked it sharply, which snapped Sam’s head back against the wall. Sam winced in pain. Two invisible hands added a one-two punch and Sam’s mouth began bleeding sluggishly. “A souvenir to remember me by,” he said, walking past Sam and into the centre of the room.
The demon reached down into the crib, and gathered the wailing baby in his arms. “I’d love to stick around and see the end of this, but I’m afraid we’ve got to run.” He took one of the baby’s hands, and waved with it. “Say bye-bye.” A flash of light lit up the room, and Dean could finally see again, the demon was gone, along with baby Eduardo.
Dean suddenly dropped from the wall. Thuds around him let him know that Sam and Teresa had been released as well. A pounding on the locked door distracted them all for a moment. Eli Fernandez, awake from his forced nap.
“Where’s my son? Eddie!” Teresa Fernandez started to wail as she raced over to the empty crib.
Dean coughed, feeling like his chest had been crushed by a giant ton of bricks. The feeling wasn’t helped when Theresa descended on him, pulling at his clothes and slapping him.
“My son, what did you do with him?” she screamed into his face.
“I didn’t--” Dean said, trying to clear the ringing out of his head and concentrate on the panicked woman in front of him. “It wasn’t--” Out of the corner of his eye he could see the door fly and Eli Fernandez barged in. He headed straight for Dean with a murderous look in his eyes.
“Stand back from him,” a new voice spoke. Dean looked over Theresa’s shoulder for the source. It was Andy. He held up a hand, making a funny movement that almost looked like… like a Jedi mind trick. He gestured to Theresa. “Go stand with your husband,” Andy told her, doing the hand wave again.
Dean privately thought this request wasn’t going to be followed, especially coming from a geeky Star Wars wannabe. But surprisingly, Teresa obeyed. Her eyes had turned glassy and she stumbled back to her husband’s waiting arms, who was also strangely compliant, standing in the doorway.
“What’s going on?” Dean asked, suspicious. Andy looked back over his shoulder. “This is why I don’t talk,” he said sadly, before turning back to the Fernandezes. “This is the story you’re going to tell the police,” he began.
Dean watched as Andy spun a tale that involved a home invasion, a kidnapping of Eddie, and no mention of Dean, Sam, Ava or Andy or a yellow-eyed demon or being pinned to the ceiling.
“They’ll listen to you?” Sam asked, from where he was helping Ava up. Together they limped closer to Dean and Andy.
“Yeah,” Andy said with certainty. “But we should leave before the police get here. I’m sure they’ve already been called.”
They quickly exited, making sure to stay in the shadows. As Dean and Sam reached the Impala, Dean turned, planning to ask how the other two would be making their escape. He broached the subject. “You two got a ride?”
Andy and Ava shared a look. “We came on the bus,” Ava said uncertainly. “I guess…”
Sam shot Dean a look, and cleared his throat. “There’s room in our car,” Dean said. “Besides… I think we have some things to talk about.”
***
Twenty miles out of town, and Dean was still trying to wrap his head around the night’s events. He looked over at Sam, sitting in the passenger seat, his knees awkwardly drawn up to his chest, the bruises dark against his cheek and eyes, and his lip puffy from the punches. A glance to the backseat showed Andy and Ava curled up together, looking exhausted and shell-shocked.
Sam shifted in his seat. “Where are we going?” he asked Dean.
“Blue Mountain, and Pastor Jim’s,” Dean answered. “Safest place from a demon is in a church, and after Dad, Pastor Jim knows more about demons than anyone else.”
“Dean,” Sam said, his voice a whisper. “What that demon said tonight… he said he had plans for me.”
Dean bit the inside of his lip, this was the part of the night he wanted to forget. A number of questions worried him-the demon’s plans, his words that implied it had been Sam who had psychically knocked him over, what the hell was up with Andy, and Ava...but he had to keep his game face on for Sam. “Well, that’s too bad. He’s not getting you. Dad and I won’t let him.”
“I don’t want to be a freak,” Sam said, his voice miserable. He looked back at Andy and Ava, wondering if they had heard him, but they were fast asleep.
“Hate to break it to you, but you’ve always been a freak,” Dean told him.
A reluctant laugh came out of Sam. “Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he said. “Melting silver bullets, bow-hunting practice, hunting demons…not exactly normal.”
“It’s okay, ‘cause I’m right there with you, all the way,” Dean said, shooting a glance out of the corner of his eye at his brother, and then returning his attention to the road.
“Thanks,” Sam said softly, looking at his feet.
Dean cleared his throat and slid his phone out of his pocket. He punched in a number. It rang. He breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his father’s voice.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“Dean. What’s wrong?”
Dean told him the story of the last week, with Sam watching anxiously.
“You took your brother into a hunt when the thing was gunning right for him?” Dad’s voice was disbelieving and disappointed. “Dean, I thought I taught you better than that.”
Dean winced. “Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to put Sam in danger. ” He glanced over quickly at his brother. “It’s just, well.. Sam and I… we didn’t want to see another family go through what ours has, and… well, you weren’t there, so I had to make the decision.”
His father stayed silent for so long that Dean thought he had lost him. “Hello?”
“Where direction are you headed?” Dad asked.
“Towards Blue Mountain,” Dean answered. “Thought it’d be the safest place.”
“I’ll meet you at Jim’s.” His father’s voice sounded tired, and Dean wondered where he was along his route back to Missouri. “Don’t stop too long at the gas stations, let Sam drive if you have to. Keep the holy water close at hand.” He rattled off a few more orders.
“Sure thing, Dad,” Dean promised
“And Dean- keep a close eye on your brother and those other two kids,” Dad said.
“Of course,” Dean said, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I looking out for Sammy?”
His father’s answer was surprisingly evasive. “I meant… keep a watch and just- don’t let them out of your sight.
“Dad?” Dean asked, the implications of his father’s request sinking in, and he felt a cold touch of fear. “Is Sa-”
“Dean. I can’t do this right now. I’ll explain more when we meet up,” said Dad. There was a click on the other end.
Dean stared down at his phone in disbelief. He closed it and looked over at the passenger seat.
Sam was fast asleep, his mouth open slightly, with a string of drool dripping down his chin.
A small smile crossed Dean’s face at the sight of his brother, and the feeling of dread that coursed throughout his whole body lessened slightly. No way could Sam’s psychic visions be part of some evil plan. But if even if they were, no sweat. They were Winchesters--they could fix it and handle whatever the future threw at them. Even if this was a bigger revelation than they had ever dealt with before- they could handle it.
At least, Dean hoped so. He drove on through the night, wondering whether the morning would hold the answers.
- 30 -