"Lost and Found: Trinity"
Title: Trinity
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’ and some kissin’)
Word Count: 2592
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
The story so far:
1. Santa Cruz
2. The Road to Missouri
3. Revelations
4. Look Back, Leap Forward
5. Second Sight
6. Fury and Fitchburg
7. Conjoined
8. Distant Voices
9. The Warning
10. Wrought Asunder
11. Family Ties
12. Black Dog
13. Splitting Down the Seems
14. Spiral
And now:
*****
When Sam wakes up sandwiched between his two older brothers, the instant and terrible nausea that rises within him is due less to the drinking the night before, than the images that flood his brain in sinful Technicolour.
He remembers.
*****
Sam’s just stepping out of the shower when Dean finds him.
All it takes is one quick glance at his older brother’s face to know he remembers the night before in just as much detail as Sam.
Dean’s eyes are dark and his skin is pale. His hair is sticking out in every direction and he’s dressed only in jeans. He looks like a million things are flying through his head, each pushing to be said, clogging up in his throat, getting stuck.
They just look at each other for a few minutes. Sam clutches at his towel with one hand and runs the other through his hair, just for something to do; something to take his mind off what’s about to happen.
“Sammy,” Dean breathes after a million years. It sounds like a plea and a prayer; like he wishes Sam could understand exactly what’s going through his head, just by speaking his name. “Sammy, I’m so sor-”
“Don’t,” Sam whispers, avoiding Dean’s eyes. Unsaid feelings cling to his skin like droplets of water and Sam feels suddenly dirty.
The humidity in the air makes it hard to breathe.
“Please, Sam,” Dean whimpers, the sound so foreign on his lips. “I was drunk. I… I didn’t mean to…”
“To what?” Sam says, looking up at his brother suddenly, eyes begging for clarity. His skin feels hot; his muscles tense. “You didn’t mean to practically fuck Priestly right in front of me?”
“Jesus,” Dean moans, closing his eyes and falling against the door frame.
“I thought,” Sam continues, trying to slow his heart down, “that I would be okay with this, Dean; could be okay with this. But I’m not.”
Dean sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and opens his bleary, watery eyes. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did. You’ve gotta believe me. I couldn’t help it. And now… I’m sorry, Sammy, but I don’t know if I can stop myself.”
Sam shakes his head, water flying of the strands of hair. “That’s not what I mean, Dean. I know you can’t help it. You’re drawn to each other. You’re psychically connected. I can’t even imagine trying to stop you from being with one another.”
Dean’s brow furrows. “But… I don’t understand.”
“I mean I’m jealous, Dean,” Sam blurts before his courage fails him. When Dean’s eyes go wide and startled, he knows he’s really said it out loud, and that there is no going back from this moment. “It was always just you and me, don’t you understand? It was just us, together, for all those years. We were all we ever needed. But now with Priestly… don’t get me wrong, he’s my brother and I love him, but together you… he gets to see a part of you I never will. When you guys are together… that’s something I’ll never be a part of.”
Dean’s last breathe seems to catch in his throat. The tears pooling in his eyes make their last dash for freedom, running down hot, pale skin. He seems caught in time; frozen.
Sam stands in the middle of the bathroom, still gripping his towel, staring into his brother’s eyes like it’s the last time he’ll ever see him. He thinks his heart is breaking.
“You stupid ass,” Dean whispers, and suddenly Sam is no longer in the middle of the room. He is up against the cold tile wall with Dean breathing into his face, eyes wild and open. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you say something years ago?”
*****
Priestly’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, pulled from sleep by the flood of emotions that had perforated his mind. He isn’t sure what he feels as he watches Dean’s mouth cover Sam’s in a bruising kiss. He remains silent as he follows Dean’s hands with his eyes as they slide down Sam’s bare chest, blunt nails leaving red streaks over tender flesh. They pause for a fraction of a second at the hips, as if unsure, or waiting for permission.
When Sam moans into Dean’s mouth, the hands continue their path south, dragging thumbs just below the beaten edge of the towel slung low on Sam’s waist. It slides off and falls to the floor with a sound like opening wings.
Priestly has to hold in his gasp, for fear of breaking the spell, when he sees Sam naked for the first time. His body is miles and miles of tanned skin, the scars a roadmap of his entire life. Water, whether from the shower or the heat of the moment, trickles over the bare flesh.
Priestly’s eye tear themselves away from Dean’s hands long enough to watch a stray droplet cascade down Sam’s long, elegant neck, only to catch in the niche of the collar bone and be redirected down the expanse of muscled torso. The bead of water slides over Sam chest, leaving a glinting trail. It arches over one pec and makes a mad dash for the abs. Finally, it collides with Dean’s hand, trapped between the two bodies.
Dean’s got his left hand wrapped around Sam’s dick, pulling at him and making him squirm. And it would seem Priestly’s upstairs brain is no longer in charge. His mind is no longer troubled by what he’s seeing, or where the actions will take them as a family; he’s as hard as a rock, and he’s tired of just watching.
*****
Sam eyes have been closed since the kiss began, and he doesn’t open them again until he feels another pair of hands pressing against his skin. Identical hands. Identical, but different.
He pulls from the kiss fast enough to knock his head against the cool tiles behind him. His eyes snap open to find two sets of hazel-green eyes staring back at him.
His breathe catches in his throat.
“I was really rather hoping,” Priestly rasps in Dean’s voice, reaching over his twin’s shoulder to run fingertips over Sam’s lips, “that you two might be in a sharing mood.”
His other arm snakes around Dean’s bare chest, flattening them against one another until they’re almost one person. His fingers instantly start tracing strange patterns over the skin.
Sam whimpers when Priestly licks a drop of sweat trailing down Dean’s neck.
Dean moans in response and tightens his grip on Sam’s dick, causing him to gasp and buck. “What do you think, Sammy?” Dean growls, arching his spare arm behind him to grab a fistful of Priestly’s hair. “We have the whole place to ourselves today, so we can be as loud as we want. Doesn’t that sound good?”
Dean drags the word out in way that can’t possibly be legal in all fifty states. It makes Sam’s blood churn and Priestly’s pupils blow even wider.
How does one answer such a question?
Sam suddenly smirks, devious and wrong and slides a hand into Dean’s hair. He moves forward, knowing Dean is aching to kiss him again. But Sam swerves, just before a collision, and grabs Priestly by the back of the neck with his other hand, and kisses him deep, right over Dean’s shoulder.
Dean moans low and rasps, “I guess that answers my question.”
*****
The sex isn’t drawn out like it should be. All three boys are way too far gone before they even hit the mattress.
To their credit, they hold off long enough to take turns being fucker and fuckee.
It isn’t perfect, far from it, but it’s something, and really, that’s the important thing.
*****
Over the next couple of days, the boys realize a slight, silent weight has lifted from their shoulders. Tensions have eased; secrets unburdened. They’re able to return to business as usual. Well, as usual as their “business” can get.
It’s all relative.
Priestly is back to honing his abilities in the scrap yard under the watchful eye of Bobby. He seems to get better every day, inventing new (and often entertaining) ways to use his telekinesis.
He’s taken special care to strengthen the shield he had first constructed back on the black dog hunt. It’s a near solid mass now; like a brick wall. Priestly claims that it can, theoretically, not only block a mental attack, but a physical ones as well.
He attempts to proves this theory by encouraging Bobby to shoot him with a shotgun full of rock salt. Sam and Dean are immediately up in arms over the whole thing, name-calling and threatening violence if he even thinks about it… But Bobby just gets this little smirk in the corner of his mouth and picks up the closest double-barrel.
The rock salt blast knocks Priestly square on his ass. The three hunters on the porch come running, only to find the telekinetic completely intact. He grins up at them, I told you so echoing in Dean’s head. In response, Dean punches him in the shoulder and Sam calls him a jackass.
It’s Bobby who pulls him from the ground by the hand. He holds onto it a moment longer than is necessary once Priestly’s on his feet. The old hunter just pulls that little smirk again and claps Priestly on the shoulder.
He doesn’t say a word.
*****
Another trick Priestly’s been practicing involves carrying around a fist-sized leather bag full of ball bearings (Dean of course, never wasting an opportunity to make fun of his leathery sack or purse). In an open area, he opens the sack and draws the ball bearings out with his mind. Then, through careful concentration, he begins to whip them in a circle around him, until he is encased in a terrifying metal tornado.
Sometimes, if the inclination strikes him, he sends the bearings outward from the tornado, turning the trick from a defense into an attack. The shoot out at a terrifying speed, spraying in every direction.
Sometimes, afterwards, Priestly finds fresh holes in the frames of the junk cars.
*****
Sam divides his time between researching the Beast (which still proves fruitless), and trying to figure out a way to help Dean get a handle on his powers.
Bobby, too, has been helping on both fronts, researching tirelessly and calling on old friends. He’s been damn good to the boys since their father past, even more so after the discovery of Priestly. His home has become theirs, though, true to their heritage, this sentiment is never spoken out loud.
When the old hunter hangs up the phone, Sam glances up, conditioned, but Bobby shakes his head. Another dead end.
Sam sighs. They’ve been seeing a lot of those lately.
He tosses the latest book aside, ignoring the clunk that echoes in his stomach when it collides with the large pile of similarly discarded books,
Sam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Nothing. Again. Not a word, not a whisper of anything like what Sam saw in his head that night. Nothing, like it doesn’t exist. As he exhales a trembling breathe, Sam wonders, not for the first time, if he’s simply gone insane. There is no evidence of the Beast in anything he, or anyone else, reads, and no other hunter has ever heard of such a creature. He is the only person to have seen the thing. What is to say it hadn’t been sort of hallucinogenic backfire in his head? What if the real visions he’d had had simply fractured his mind? It could happen. Like seizures. Maybe he’s just loosing his grip on reality, imagining things that didn’t exist.
If only, Sam thinks, opening his eyes once more to the mountains of books all around him. Madness, at this point, would be a welcome explanation. Unfortunately, the blackout he had experienced, and the terrible message scrawled on the wall in his own blood was about as real as it got. There was still something after them, and still, none among them knew a Goddamn fucking thing.
“Fuck,” Sam breathes.
Bobby glances at him from the kitchen. “We’ll figure it out, boy,” he says after a minute. “We’ll figure it out.”
*****
The nights are easier now for Dean. All pretenses have been dropped, and the two single beds have been pushed together. Dean bitches at first when designated to the middle, but it’s just noise. He has to protest. He can’t look like he wants it. It’s just the way he is.
But eventually he settles between his brothers, grumbling about cuddling, but winding his limbs into his brothers’ just the same.
Within this shelter, Dean’s dreams are unburdened.
*****
Everyone jumps when Sam’s cell phone rings.
It hasn’t rung in weeks, so when Sam reaches into his pocket, trepidation hangs in the air. The tension goes up about twelve notches when Sam proceeds to do a startled double-take of the little caller ID screen. He presses a button and mashes the phone against his ear.
“Missouri?!” Sam squeaks, voice a great deal higher than normal. Dean feels his heart hammer in his chest and catches Priestly’s worried expression across the room. Missouri has been MIA for well over a month. For her to call them, after all this time, well… Dean isn’t sure what to feel.
He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts, Dean jumps again when Sam suddenly shrieks, “Jamaica?!”
Dean no longer cares what’s going on in his own head. He’s far more interested in whatever the hell Missouri is talking about. He’s going to be fucking pissed if he finds out that damn woman’s been on vacation just when they needed her most.
Sam’s raving questions continue. “Mystics? Demons soldiers?! Missouri, what the hell are you talking about?” A moment of silence from Sam, then another shriek. “How do you know about the Beast?!”
Dean’s on his feet at that. Gimme the phone, he mouthes at his brother, but Sam waves him off. He’s nodding, looking worried and frazzled. He’s repeating a string of “uh huhs,” and “oks”. Then there’s a “goodbye” and a “thank you” before Dean can even process the fact that a conversation has even taken place.
After he hangs up the phone, Sam just kind of sits there, eyes straight ahead without really looking at anything.
“Well?” Dean finally blurts, unable to stand the stunned silence any longer.
Sam still takes a moment to respond, eyes staying fixed on the floor. “She’s on her way here. She… she was in Jamaica,” he says, voice monotone. “Well, Louisiana first, then Jamaica, ‘chasing a whisper,’ she said.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dean growls, growing evermore impatient.
Sam looks up then and Dean takes in a sharp breathe. There something there, behind Sam’s eyes, haunting. It cools Dean’s temper.
“Sammy,” he breathes, suddenly afraid, “what did she say?”
“The Beast,” Sam whispers to no one in particular. “She said she found out what it is and what it wants. She also said…” he trails off.
“What, Sam? What?” A horrible feeling swells within Dean’s stomach. Something terrible looms on his little brother’s lips. He can feel it.
Sam lets out a strangled, awful laugh as if he just has to marvel at how fucked up the world can be. “There’s a prophecy, Dean,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s a Goddamn demon prophecy.”
*****
To be continued…
’Verse: Lost and Found
Author: LadyMacbeth
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG13 (for some cussin’ and some kissin’)
Word Count: 2592
Disclaimer: “Supernatural” and all its characters belong to the genius that is Eric Kripke. I make no profit.
Summary: Missouri reveals a secret to the boys that send them on a journey to Santa Cruz where they find a brother they never knew and an even darker revelation that none of them saw coming.
The story so far:
1. Santa Cruz
2. The Road to Missouri
3. Revelations
4. Look Back, Leap Forward
5. Second Sight
6. Fury and Fitchburg
7. Conjoined
8. Distant Voices
9. The Warning
10. Wrought Asunder
11. Family Ties
12. Black Dog
13. Splitting Down the Seems
14. Spiral
And now:
*****
When Sam wakes up sandwiched between his two older brothers, the instant and terrible nausea that rises within him is due less to the drinking the night before, than the images that flood his brain in sinful Technicolour.
He remembers.
*****
Sam’s just stepping out of the shower when Dean finds him.
All it takes is one quick glance at his older brother’s face to know he remembers the night before in just as much detail as Sam.
Dean’s eyes are dark and his skin is pale. His hair is sticking out in every direction and he’s dressed only in jeans. He looks like a million things are flying through his head, each pushing to be said, clogging up in his throat, getting stuck.
They just look at each other for a few minutes. Sam clutches at his towel with one hand and runs the other through his hair, just for something to do; something to take his mind off what’s about to happen.
“Sammy,” Dean breathes after a million years. It sounds like a plea and a prayer; like he wishes Sam could understand exactly what’s going through his head, just by speaking his name. “Sammy, I’m so sor-”
“Don’t,” Sam whispers, avoiding Dean’s eyes. Unsaid feelings cling to his skin like droplets of water and Sam feels suddenly dirty.
The humidity in the air makes it hard to breathe.
“Please, Sam,” Dean whimpers, the sound so foreign on his lips. “I was drunk. I… I didn’t mean to…”
“To what?” Sam says, looking up at his brother suddenly, eyes begging for clarity. His skin feels hot; his muscles tense. “You didn’t mean to practically fuck Priestly right in front of me?”
“Jesus,” Dean moans, closing his eyes and falling against the door frame.
“I thought,” Sam continues, trying to slow his heart down, “that I would be okay with this, Dean; could be okay with this. But I’m not.”
Dean sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and opens his bleary, watery eyes. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did. You’ve gotta believe me. I couldn’t help it. And now… I’m sorry, Sammy, but I don’t know if I can stop myself.”
Sam shakes his head, water flying of the strands of hair. “That’s not what I mean, Dean. I know you can’t help it. You’re drawn to each other. You’re psychically connected. I can’t even imagine trying to stop you from being with one another.”
Dean’s brow furrows. “But… I don’t understand.”
“I mean I’m jealous, Dean,” Sam blurts before his courage fails him. When Dean’s eyes go wide and startled, he knows he’s really said it out loud, and that there is no going back from this moment. “It was always just you and me, don’t you understand? It was just us, together, for all those years. We were all we ever needed. But now with Priestly… don’t get me wrong, he’s my brother and I love him, but together you… he gets to see a part of you I never will. When you guys are together… that’s something I’ll never be a part of.”
Dean’s last breathe seems to catch in his throat. The tears pooling in his eyes make their last dash for freedom, running down hot, pale skin. He seems caught in time; frozen.
Sam stands in the middle of the bathroom, still gripping his towel, staring into his brother’s eyes like it’s the last time he’ll ever see him. He thinks his heart is breaking.
“You stupid ass,” Dean whispers, and suddenly Sam is no longer in the middle of the room. He is up against the cold tile wall with Dean breathing into his face, eyes wild and open. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you say something years ago?”
*****
Priestly’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, pulled from sleep by the flood of emotions that had perforated his mind. He isn’t sure what he feels as he watches Dean’s mouth cover Sam’s in a bruising kiss. He remains silent as he follows Dean’s hands with his eyes as they slide down Sam’s bare chest, blunt nails leaving red streaks over tender flesh. They pause for a fraction of a second at the hips, as if unsure, or waiting for permission.
When Sam moans into Dean’s mouth, the hands continue their path south, dragging thumbs just below the beaten edge of the towel slung low on Sam’s waist. It slides off and falls to the floor with a sound like opening wings.
Priestly has to hold in his gasp, for fear of breaking the spell, when he sees Sam naked for the first time. His body is miles and miles of tanned skin, the scars a roadmap of his entire life. Water, whether from the shower or the heat of the moment, trickles over the bare flesh.
Priestly’s eye tear themselves away from Dean’s hands long enough to watch a stray droplet cascade down Sam’s long, elegant neck, only to catch in the niche of the collar bone and be redirected down the expanse of muscled torso. The bead of water slides over Sam chest, leaving a glinting trail. It arches over one pec and makes a mad dash for the abs. Finally, it collides with Dean’s hand, trapped between the two bodies.
Dean’s got his left hand wrapped around Sam’s dick, pulling at him and making him squirm. And it would seem Priestly’s upstairs brain is no longer in charge. His mind is no longer troubled by what he’s seeing, or where the actions will take them as a family; he’s as hard as a rock, and he’s tired of just watching.
*****
Sam eyes have been closed since the kiss began, and he doesn’t open them again until he feels another pair of hands pressing against his skin. Identical hands. Identical, but different.
He pulls from the kiss fast enough to knock his head against the cool tiles behind him. His eyes snap open to find two sets of hazel-green eyes staring back at him.
His breathe catches in his throat.
“I was really rather hoping,” Priestly rasps in Dean’s voice, reaching over his twin’s shoulder to run fingertips over Sam’s lips, “that you two might be in a sharing mood.”
His other arm snakes around Dean’s bare chest, flattening them against one another until they’re almost one person. His fingers instantly start tracing strange patterns over the skin.
Sam whimpers when Priestly licks a drop of sweat trailing down Dean’s neck.
Dean moans in response and tightens his grip on Sam’s dick, causing him to gasp and buck. “What do you think, Sammy?” Dean growls, arching his spare arm behind him to grab a fistful of Priestly’s hair. “We have the whole place to ourselves today, so we can be as loud as we want. Doesn’t that sound good?”
Dean drags the word out in way that can’t possibly be legal in all fifty states. It makes Sam’s blood churn and Priestly’s pupils blow even wider.
How does one answer such a question?
Sam suddenly smirks, devious and wrong and slides a hand into Dean’s hair. He moves forward, knowing Dean is aching to kiss him again. But Sam swerves, just before a collision, and grabs Priestly by the back of the neck with his other hand, and kisses him deep, right over Dean’s shoulder.
Dean moans low and rasps, “I guess that answers my question.”
*****
The sex isn’t drawn out like it should be. All three boys are way too far gone before they even hit the mattress.
To their credit, they hold off long enough to take turns being fucker and fuckee.
It isn’t perfect, far from it, but it’s something, and really, that’s the important thing.
*****
Over the next couple of days, the boys realize a slight, silent weight has lifted from their shoulders. Tensions have eased; secrets unburdened. They’re able to return to business as usual. Well, as usual as their “business” can get.
It’s all relative.
Priestly is back to honing his abilities in the scrap yard under the watchful eye of Bobby. He seems to get better every day, inventing new (and often entertaining) ways to use his telekinesis.
He’s taken special care to strengthen the shield he had first constructed back on the black dog hunt. It’s a near solid mass now; like a brick wall. Priestly claims that it can, theoretically, not only block a mental attack, but a physical ones as well.
He attempts to proves this theory by encouraging Bobby to shoot him with a shotgun full of rock salt. Sam and Dean are immediately up in arms over the whole thing, name-calling and threatening violence if he even thinks about it… But Bobby just gets this little smirk in the corner of his mouth and picks up the closest double-barrel.
The rock salt blast knocks Priestly square on his ass. The three hunters on the porch come running, only to find the telekinetic completely intact. He grins up at them, I told you so echoing in Dean’s head. In response, Dean punches him in the shoulder and Sam calls him a jackass.
It’s Bobby who pulls him from the ground by the hand. He holds onto it a moment longer than is necessary once Priestly’s on his feet. The old hunter just pulls that little smirk again and claps Priestly on the shoulder.
He doesn’t say a word.
*****
Another trick Priestly’s been practicing involves carrying around a fist-sized leather bag full of ball bearings (Dean of course, never wasting an opportunity to make fun of his leathery sack or purse). In an open area, he opens the sack and draws the ball bearings out with his mind. Then, through careful concentration, he begins to whip them in a circle around him, until he is encased in a terrifying metal tornado.
Sometimes, if the inclination strikes him, he sends the bearings outward from the tornado, turning the trick from a defense into an attack. The shoot out at a terrifying speed, spraying in every direction.
Sometimes, afterwards, Priestly finds fresh holes in the frames of the junk cars.
*****
Sam divides his time between researching the Beast (which still proves fruitless), and trying to figure out a way to help Dean get a handle on his powers.
Bobby, too, has been helping on both fronts, researching tirelessly and calling on old friends. He’s been damn good to the boys since their father past, even more so after the discovery of Priestly. His home has become theirs, though, true to their heritage, this sentiment is never spoken out loud.
When the old hunter hangs up the phone, Sam glances up, conditioned, but Bobby shakes his head. Another dead end.
Sam sighs. They’ve been seeing a lot of those lately.
He tosses the latest book aside, ignoring the clunk that echoes in his stomach when it collides with the large pile of similarly discarded books,
Sam closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Nothing. Again. Not a word, not a whisper of anything like what Sam saw in his head that night. Nothing, like it doesn’t exist. As he exhales a trembling breathe, Sam wonders, not for the first time, if he’s simply gone insane. There is no evidence of the Beast in anything he, or anyone else, reads, and no other hunter has ever heard of such a creature. He is the only person to have seen the thing. What is to say it hadn’t been sort of hallucinogenic backfire in his head? What if the real visions he’d had had simply fractured his mind? It could happen. Like seizures. Maybe he’s just loosing his grip on reality, imagining things that didn’t exist.
If only, Sam thinks, opening his eyes once more to the mountains of books all around him. Madness, at this point, would be a welcome explanation. Unfortunately, the blackout he had experienced, and the terrible message scrawled on the wall in his own blood was about as real as it got. There was still something after them, and still, none among them knew a Goddamn fucking thing.
“Fuck,” Sam breathes.
Bobby glances at him from the kitchen. “We’ll figure it out, boy,” he says after a minute. “We’ll figure it out.”
*****
The nights are easier now for Dean. All pretenses have been dropped, and the two single beds have been pushed together. Dean bitches at first when designated to the middle, but it’s just noise. He has to protest. He can’t look like he wants it. It’s just the way he is.
But eventually he settles between his brothers, grumbling about cuddling, but winding his limbs into his brothers’ just the same.
Within this shelter, Dean’s dreams are unburdened.
*****
Everyone jumps when Sam’s cell phone rings.
It hasn’t rung in weeks, so when Sam reaches into his pocket, trepidation hangs in the air. The tension goes up about twelve notches when Sam proceeds to do a startled double-take of the little caller ID screen. He presses a button and mashes the phone against his ear.
“Missouri?!” Sam squeaks, voice a great deal higher than normal. Dean feels his heart hammer in his chest and catches Priestly’s worried expression across the room. Missouri has been MIA for well over a month. For her to call them, after all this time, well… Dean isn’t sure what to feel.
He’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts, Dean jumps again when Sam suddenly shrieks, “Jamaica?!”
Dean no longer cares what’s going on in his own head. He’s far more interested in whatever the hell Missouri is talking about. He’s going to be fucking pissed if he finds out that damn woman’s been on vacation just when they needed her most.
Sam’s raving questions continue. “Mystics? Demons soldiers?! Missouri, what the hell are you talking about?” A moment of silence from Sam, then another shriek. “How do you know about the Beast?!”
Dean’s on his feet at that. Gimme the phone, he mouthes at his brother, but Sam waves him off. He’s nodding, looking worried and frazzled. He’s repeating a string of “uh huhs,” and “oks”. Then there’s a “goodbye” and a “thank you” before Dean can even process the fact that a conversation has even taken place.
After he hangs up the phone, Sam just kind of sits there, eyes straight ahead without really looking at anything.
“Well?” Dean finally blurts, unable to stand the stunned silence any longer.
Sam still takes a moment to respond, eyes staying fixed on the floor. “She’s on her way here. She… she was in Jamaica,” he says, voice monotone. “Well, Louisiana first, then Jamaica, ‘chasing a whisper,’ she said.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Dean growls, growing evermore impatient.
Sam looks up then and Dean takes in a sharp breathe. There something there, behind Sam’s eyes, haunting. It cools Dean’s temper.
“Sammy,” he breathes, suddenly afraid, “what did she say?”
“The Beast,” Sam whispers to no one in particular. “She said she found out what it is and what it wants. She also said…” he trails off.
“What, Sam? What?” A horrible feeling swells within Dean’s stomach. Something terrible looms on his little brother’s lips. He can feel it.
Sam lets out a strangled, awful laugh as if he just has to marvel at how fucked up the world can be. “There’s a prophecy, Dean,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s a Goddamn demon prophecy.”
*****
To be continued…