Dreaming in Stereo, Supernatural, Part 2
Fandom: Supernatural
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part 2 ( Part One here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, memories of Sam/OC, John
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 063 Whisper
Word Count: 2754
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. Well, this section isn't as dark as most of it...this is kind of "healing time" and plot development time. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by shotofjack...which can be found here). I hope shotofjack doesn't mind me borrowing details and dialogue. The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.
The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my fifteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
John waited a whole half an hour for Dean to call him back. He didn’t wait patiently. He had heard the strain in Dean’s voice, felt the emotion that he was accustomed to in Sam’s voice. He’d sensed the stabbing pain before Dean hung up the phone.
When the phone did ring, John jumped, pacing away from the truck where’d he’d pulled off the road. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad. We’re fine.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.”
Dean sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Its been a rough couple of days, Dad. Sam topped it all off with a vision. It was a doozy.”
“Is Sam okay?”
Dean sighed again. “Yeah. Tired, but okay. We’re getting some food.”
“So what was this vision?”
“Demons. A little girl possessed. Sam says its our demon. That it’s in her.”
“Do you know where?” John didn’t like this. Not now. Not when his boys were still recovering.
“No Dad. Sam was already pretty wrecked after a couple of bad nights. He says he couldn’t hold on to it long enough to get more.”
“I’m coming to you.” It was quiet for a long time. John almost thought Dean had hung up. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad. We’re in a town called Perryton, at the Out of the Way Motel.”
“I’ll be there in two days.”
“We’ll be here.”
John hung up his phone and climbed into the truck. He needed coffee. It was going to be a hard ride to Perryton.
Sam looked up as Dean re-entered the diner. His pupils were blown wide and there were dark circles under his eyes. Dean sank into the booth and pulled his coffee to him. “Dad’s coming?” Sam asked.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, a couple of days.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Dean.” Sam’s voice is quiet, nearly flat, like he’s run out of emotion to color it.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s on his way.”
They were quiet then, not that words were necessary for what was passing between them. The waitress brought their food, steaks and fries because Dean had insisted Sam needed the protein. As Sam was finishing he looked up. “Do we have anymore of the sleeping pills?”
Dean nodded. “A few.”
“I need…to sleep.” Need to get ready.
Dean leaned back against the booth. He knew, the tired permeated him, ate into his bones. At least only one of them needed to take the damn pill. He could just let it lull him under as it pulled Sam. “Come on, Sammy.” He helped Sam up, dropping money on the table before slipping his arm around Sam’s waist, not caring what anyone thought as Sam’s head rested on his shoulder.
”Sam.”
The darkness swirled around him. He was alone, alone in the dark. “Sam.”
It whispered…half familiar…”Sam.”
Jess. “Jessica?”
The darkness moved, parted and she was there, blond hair lifting on a breeze he couldn’t feel, as if she were somewhere else entirely. “You aren’t ready,” she whispered.
Hot tears burned his cheeks as he reached for her. “Jessica.”
“Can’t touch Sam. Not yet.”
Sam shook his head. “I-I don’t know what to do.”
Her smile was soft. “You need to prepare. You need to be ready. It’s coming for you.”
She stepped backward. “No, Jess, don’t go.”
“Sleep Sam. I’m always right there with you.”
“Jess.”
Sam whispered into the cold air of the room, clutching at the blanket. On the other bed, Dean mimicked his movements, his own voice whispering an echo.
“Dad.” Sam sat up quickly, reeling a little as the room spun and the blood rushed through him. Dean jumped up from the chair where he’d been sitting.
“Dad…” Sam said it again, breathlessly.
“Sam?” Show me, let me see.
Sam held out his hand and Dean took it, not sure why he needed the physical contact. Hurt, blood. came first…then images. The truck had been hit, forced off the road. We need to go.
Sam was up and shrugging on jeans, urging Dean wordlessly as he searched for his shoes. Hurry. He grabbed the keys and had the car started before Dean was even out the door.
“Where is he?”
Sam shook his head. Need to concentrate. He caressed against Dean gently before he strengthened the connection. Help me. He’d never connected with his father over this much distance…it wasn’t as strong as the thing with Dean…it was guarded and John had never lost himself into Sam the way Dean had.
There. It was faint. Dad.
“Fuck! Sam, the road.”
Sam hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes. He opened them in time to pull them back on the road. “Sorry.”
“Dude, let me drive.”
“I’ve got it.”
Sam held to the tentative feeling and drove toward it. The skies around them were darkening. “How long did I sleep?”
Dean clenched his jaw as Sam took a curve wide. “Almost 30 hours.”
“Damn. What about you?”
“About half that. Dude, watch it.”
Sam grinned, but took the next turn a little more cautiously. “Nearly there. Hold on.”
Up ahead of them Dean could see headlights off the side of the road. “There, Sam.”
“I see.” Sam slowed the car, pulling off into the gravel.
Dean was the first out of the car, half way to the truck before Sam got the car stopped and in park. “Dad!”
Dad. We’re here. Sam could barely feel him, even this close. Sam followed Dean, starting as Dean pulled the truck door open with a groan of stressed metal. John was slumped against the wheel, blood on his forehead. Dad.
Sam. It was a caress, the feeling of his mind sliding more fully into the connection. Careful. Tried to kill me.
Dean helped him sit back, his hands already moving over his father in search of injuries. No, scare you. Wants us scared.
John’s eyes opened, his hands batting away Dean’s. “I’m…okay.”
“Like hell.” I can feel it, Dad. There was the concussion, and pain in his ribs.
There was the roar of an engine in the distance. “It’s coming back.” John said through clenched teeth. “We need to get out of here.”
“Move over. I’ll drive.” Dean said.
Sam hesitated until Dean pushed…then he was stumbling back to the Impala, fumbling with the keys and squealing the tires to follow Dean and his father and the beat up truck.
It was behind them…Sam could taste the sulfur. Faster. The truck sped up and Sam followed. Another mile. Dirt road, on the right. Pull in. Stop. Dark.
He felt Dean’s disagreement. Are you crazy?
Sam gritted his teeth as he felt it crawling up behind them even though he couldn’t see the headlights yet. Trust me
He saw Dean kill the lights on the truck even before he made the turn. The trees that shaded the road would serve his purposes and he had the Impala stopped and dark and was outside it before his father or Dean had done more than look behind them. Sam grimaced and sent a quick hold on to both of them before slamming up a wall between them, and another between him and the road.
He watched it coming, felt them pushing back toward him and dug deep inside himself to strengthen it…and the semi roared past them, reeking of sulfur as it barreled down the dark back road. Sam’s head turned, tracking it, pushing the wall after it…pushing it.
He dropped the barrier between him and his family, sinking with a little relief into the feeling of Dean, despite his anger. In the distance an explosion painted the night sky and he dropped everything, half turning as Dean’s voice registered.
“What the fuck was that?” Dean’s hand was on his arm and Sam turned to him, dimly aware he was grinning. Dean touched his face, his thumb caressing his upper lip and coming away with blood on it. Sam.
John limped up beside them, looking from Dean to Sam. “What did you do?”
Sam shook his head, but that only made his knees buckle. Wall, couldn’t see you…us…
Dean’s hand held him up, held him against the door of the Impala. John’s face swam in front of his eyes. “And the explosion?”
“There was a cliff a few miles back.” Dean said. “Sam pushed him over.”
John turned dark eyes to his elder son. “He what?”
Explain later. More coming. We need to get away from here. Sam wiped the blood away from his nose.
Dean snorted. “Like I’m going to let you drive my car now?”
“You drive Dean. I’ll take the truck.” John said, turning away.
“Like hell.”
“That’s twice you’ve said that to me tonight.”
“And I’ll say it again if I have to Dad. You are not driving with that concussion. We’ll hide the truck. It’s beat to hell anyway and probably wouldn’t make it far.”
John and Dean stared at each other, pushing at one another across Sam until Sam stood upright and stepped between them.
“Dean’s right Dad. Let’s get your things.” John didn’t argue with Sam. He hadn’t argued with Sam for a long time now. Five minutes later, they were roaring back toward the motel. An hour later they were roaring out of Perryton.
The first stop they made was for gas. As they finished filling the tank, and John emerged from the bathroom with his face cleaned of the blood that had seeped from his busted forehead, Sam felt them. He looked up from the counter where he was buying M&Ms for Dean and sodas for them all and the cashier’s eyes turned black. He backed away, out the door. Gotta move. Now.
Dean saw it at the same time, another customer at the opposite pump, eyes black as night as they locked onto him. “Dad, in the car!”
The mechanic joined the others, herding the three of them into the car and Dean wasted no time pulling away from them. At the junction two miles up the road they were in cars blocking two of their choices and coming up behind them. Dean pulled them on to the clear road and pressed the pedal to the floor.
“I don’t like this.” John said.
“Me either.” Dean agreed. “They want us to go somewhere.”
Sam was quiet, closing his eyes. Dean reached for him but Sam held his hand up. There. Sam pointed without moving. A gravel road led north. “Follow this a few miles. It connects to a back road.”
John’s hand closed over his shoulder. “I’ll explain when we get some place safe. Promise.”
Dean snorted and Sam poked him. The next mile or so passed in silence, until the passed the gates of a small cemetery. “Sacred ground.” John murmured. “Smart boy.”
Sam smiled. “It should buy us a little time.” His head fell back against the seat. “The road is up ahead. Turn left.”
An hour later Dean parked the car behind the motel while Sam helped John into their room and started assessing his wounds. Sam wrapped himself around his father, half to comfort him, half to keep him from questioning too much for the moment. His fingers were delicate as they moved over the angry, bruised skin of his chest.
“It isn’t broken,” he murmured. He felt his way into John’s body, nodding as he confirmed what his fingers told him. “Concussion, bruised rib, sprained ankle. I think you’ll live,” he said with a smile as Dean joined them.
“Good. Now, explain.” Dean had his hands on his hips and was radiating anger. What the hell was that, Sammy
Sam sighed. You should know.
Dean cocked his head. He felt Sam directing his thoughts to the afternoon when he’d asked for everything. His concentration had been on the immediate, the issues with Garrett, with them. He hadn’t realized how much more there was.
“Is someone going to share with me?” John said, his voice irritated, but holding a hint of amusement as the expression on Dean’s face changed.
“Apparently, Sam’s gifts have been growing…changing.” Dean crossed his arms, the anger draining. “He’s moved things before…once.”
Sam sank to a seat against the headboard of the nearest bed. “I had a vision of Dean dying, and I pushed a piece of furniture with my mind.”
“When was this?”
“Before Garrett.” Sam said. “Never like this though. Never this big.”
“How?”
Sam shrugged. Just did. Knew what it wanted, how it found us. He opened up the connection more, his hand reaching for his father’s, his eyes drawing Dean closer. There were no words, only the feeling as it had come to him…then the feeling he’d gotten from the demons that took over the people at the gas station. West. Its somewhere west of here, and wants to push us there.
“Why?”
“We aren’t ready. It is.” Sam said.
“Ready for what, exactly?” Dean asked.
“To finish what it started when it took your mother.” John said, his face suddenly tired.
So we get ready.
Sam smiled for his brother, but in his heart he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “For now we rest, research…figure out where it is…figure out how…” He grimaced and closed his eyes. Dean’s hand rose to his head, as if it could hold off the pain. Sam gasped as the images came. His father stiffened, pulled deeper into the connection as Dean’s hand landed on his knee and the pain erupted.
The little girl. The demon. Yellow eyes. “Think you can hide from me, boy? Think they can help you?” it whispered in a voice to old and too masculine to be hers.
He felt Dean almost physically, bright, hot and beside him the cool reserve that was his father, both of them caught in the images with him. Both reeling under the pain. No. He pushed them away, or tried to, but Dean resisted, and John didn’t budge and Sam felt it slip away, the images fading to black, his head reeling before Dean’s hands were in his hair.
“Got you.” Dean was swaying on his feet and John looked like he was going to throw up when Sam finally opened his eyes. “We got you.”
Sam shook, but nodded for Dean, wanting to reassure him, wanting him to be right. “I’m okay.”
Dean released him and stepped back, surveying his family with an eye keener than many might give him credit for. “Okay. Sleeping pill for you.” He pointed at Sam. “Pain pill for you.” He pointed to his father. “Bed for both of you. I’ll walk down to the little Mom & Pop we saw coming in and get us some food.”
John looked like he was going to argue, but Dean cocked his finger at him. “Not a chance. I’ll salt the door and windows before I go…put a seal on the door.”
John sighed and shook his head. “Yeah…okay. I could use some sleep.”
“Damn right.” Dean fished out the last of the bottle of pills they’d hoarded, a few Vicoden, some Percocet and two of the sleeping pills the doctors had given Sam when he’d been released from the hospital all those months before. He handed them out and glared at them both until they’d taken the pills, then waited while they settled onto the two beds and at least pretended for his benefit that they were doing as he’d ordered.
He made quick work of the salt lines and let himself out, chalking a protective mark on the doorstep before pulling the door shut. He waited there, feeling Sam’s breathing deepen, his heart slow from the rapid fluttering that always came with the visions. No matter what he’d said, he wasn’t leaving until he knew Sam was asleep.
Not now, not after he’d realized…Missouri had seen it in Sam, tested it a little…it had been Missouri who had sent them to Carrie Rendon, the petite little dynamo who had taught Sam a modicum of control after the incident with Max Miller. But Carrie had sacrificed herself to protect the children of the town from an angry spirit tied to her ancestors before they had gotten very far.
Dean was scared. What Sam had done was so far beyond anything he had thought possible. What Dean had seen in the vision, what he’d heard…what he wasn’t even sure Sam had seen and heard…the voice that whispered to him…Dean knew what it wanted, and it knew exactly how to get it. And that, more than anything, shook him right down to his boots.
Next Part Here
Title: Dreaming in Stereo, Part 2 ( Part One here)
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Dean, memories of Sam/OC, John
Rating: NC-17, for graphic violence and sex, memory of rape
Table: #1
Prompt: 063 Whisper
Word Count: 2754
Summary: Time heals all wounds, but life for a Winchester doesn't wait. Sam and Dean are still working through the changes in their lives, back on the road, hunting. Nightmares of the past pave the way for nightmares of the future, and lead all three Winchesters to a showdown with the evil that started them on their path.
Warnings: Very Dark Fic. Well, this section isn't as dark as most of it...this is kind of "healing time" and plot development time. This is a follow on to "The Good Son" and "Where it Hurts" and "All for One and One for All" (A gifty fic written for my birthday by shotofjack...which can be found here). I hope shotofjack doesn't mind me borrowing details and dialogue. The overall story will involve torture and rape and extreme violence.
The first part of "The Good Son" can be found here
The first part of "Where it Hurts" can be found here
And "All for One and One for All" can be found here
This is my fifteenth ficlet for my Supernatural claim on 100_situations. Clicky for table
John waited a whole half an hour for Dean to call him back. He didn’t wait patiently. He had heard the strain in Dean’s voice, felt the emotion that he was accustomed to in Sam’s voice. He’d sensed the stabbing pain before Dean hung up the phone.
When the phone did ring, John jumped, pacing away from the truck where’d he’d pulled off the road. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad. We’re fine.”
“That’s not what it sounded like.”
Dean sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Its been a rough couple of days, Dad. Sam topped it all off with a vision. It was a doozy.”
“Is Sam okay?”
Dean sighed again. “Yeah. Tired, but okay. We’re getting some food.”
“So what was this vision?”
“Demons. A little girl possessed. Sam says its our demon. That it’s in her.”
“Do you know where?” John didn’t like this. Not now. Not when his boys were still recovering.
“No Dad. Sam was already pretty wrecked after a couple of bad nights. He says he couldn’t hold on to it long enough to get more.”
“I’m coming to you.” It was quiet for a long time. John almost thought Dean had hung up. “Dean?”
“Yeah, Dad. We’re in a town called Perryton, at the Out of the Way Motel.”
“I’ll be there in two days.”
“We’ll be here.”
John hung up his phone and climbed into the truck. He needed coffee. It was going to be a hard ride to Perryton.
Sam looked up as Dean re-entered the diner. His pupils were blown wide and there were dark circles under his eyes. Dean sank into the booth and pulled his coffee to him. “Dad’s coming?” Sam asked.
Dean nodded. “Yeah, a couple of days.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Dean.” Sam’s voice is quiet, nearly flat, like he’s run out of emotion to color it.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s on his way.”
They were quiet then, not that words were necessary for what was passing between them. The waitress brought their food, steaks and fries because Dean had insisted Sam needed the protein. As Sam was finishing he looked up. “Do we have anymore of the sleeping pills?”
Dean nodded. “A few.”
“I need…to sleep.” Need to get ready.
Dean leaned back against the booth. He knew, the tired permeated him, ate into his bones. At least only one of them needed to take the damn pill. He could just let it lull him under as it pulled Sam. “Come on, Sammy.” He helped Sam up, dropping money on the table before slipping his arm around Sam’s waist, not caring what anyone thought as Sam’s head rested on his shoulder.
”Sam.”
The darkness swirled around him. He was alone, alone in the dark. “Sam.”
It whispered…half familiar…”Sam.”
Jess. “Jessica?”
The darkness moved, parted and she was there, blond hair lifting on a breeze he couldn’t feel, as if she were somewhere else entirely. “You aren’t ready,” she whispered.
Hot tears burned his cheeks as he reached for her. “Jessica.”
“Can’t touch Sam. Not yet.”
Sam shook his head. “I-I don’t know what to do.”
Her smile was soft. “You need to prepare. You need to be ready. It’s coming for you.”
She stepped backward. “No, Jess, don’t go.”
“Sleep Sam. I’m always right there with you.”
“Jess.”
Sam whispered into the cold air of the room, clutching at the blanket. On the other bed, Dean mimicked his movements, his own voice whispering an echo.
“Dad.” Sam sat up quickly, reeling a little as the room spun and the blood rushed through him. Dean jumped up from the chair where he’d been sitting.
“Dad…” Sam said it again, breathlessly.
“Sam?” Show me, let me see.
Sam held out his hand and Dean took it, not sure why he needed the physical contact. Hurt, blood. came first…then images. The truck had been hit, forced off the road. We need to go.
Sam was up and shrugging on jeans, urging Dean wordlessly as he searched for his shoes. Hurry. He grabbed the keys and had the car started before Dean was even out the door.
“Where is he?”
Sam shook his head. Need to concentrate. He caressed against Dean gently before he strengthened the connection. Help me. He’d never connected with his father over this much distance…it wasn’t as strong as the thing with Dean…it was guarded and John had never lost himself into Sam the way Dean had.
There. It was faint. Dad.
“Fuck! Sam, the road.”
Sam hadn’t even realized he’d closed his eyes. He opened them in time to pull them back on the road. “Sorry.”
“Dude, let me drive.”
“I’ve got it.”
Sam held to the tentative feeling and drove toward it. The skies around them were darkening. “How long did I sleep?”
Dean clenched his jaw as Sam took a curve wide. “Almost 30 hours.”
“Damn. What about you?”
“About half that. Dude, watch it.”
Sam grinned, but took the next turn a little more cautiously. “Nearly there. Hold on.”
Up ahead of them Dean could see headlights off the side of the road. “There, Sam.”
“I see.” Sam slowed the car, pulling off into the gravel.
Dean was the first out of the car, half way to the truck before Sam got the car stopped and in park. “Dad!”
Dad. We’re here. Sam could barely feel him, even this close. Sam followed Dean, starting as Dean pulled the truck door open with a groan of stressed metal. John was slumped against the wheel, blood on his forehead. Dad.
Sam. It was a caress, the feeling of his mind sliding more fully into the connection. Careful. Tried to kill me.
Dean helped him sit back, his hands already moving over his father in search of injuries. No, scare you. Wants us scared.
John’s eyes opened, his hands batting away Dean’s. “I’m…okay.”
“Like hell.” I can feel it, Dad. There was the concussion, and pain in his ribs.
There was the roar of an engine in the distance. “It’s coming back.” John said through clenched teeth. “We need to get out of here.”
“Move over. I’ll drive.” Dean said.
Sam hesitated until Dean pushed…then he was stumbling back to the Impala, fumbling with the keys and squealing the tires to follow Dean and his father and the beat up truck.
It was behind them…Sam could taste the sulfur. Faster. The truck sped up and Sam followed. Another mile. Dirt road, on the right. Pull in. Stop. Dark.
He felt Dean’s disagreement. Are you crazy?
Sam gritted his teeth as he felt it crawling up behind them even though he couldn’t see the headlights yet. Trust me
He saw Dean kill the lights on the truck even before he made the turn. The trees that shaded the road would serve his purposes and he had the Impala stopped and dark and was outside it before his father or Dean had done more than look behind them. Sam grimaced and sent a quick hold on to both of them before slamming up a wall between them, and another between him and the road.
He watched it coming, felt them pushing back toward him and dug deep inside himself to strengthen it…and the semi roared past them, reeking of sulfur as it barreled down the dark back road. Sam’s head turned, tracking it, pushing the wall after it…pushing it.
He dropped the barrier between him and his family, sinking with a little relief into the feeling of Dean, despite his anger. In the distance an explosion painted the night sky and he dropped everything, half turning as Dean’s voice registered.
“What the fuck was that?” Dean’s hand was on his arm and Sam turned to him, dimly aware he was grinning. Dean touched his face, his thumb caressing his upper lip and coming away with blood on it. Sam.
John limped up beside them, looking from Dean to Sam. “What did you do?”
Sam shook his head, but that only made his knees buckle. Wall, couldn’t see you…us…
Dean’s hand held him up, held him against the door of the Impala. John’s face swam in front of his eyes. “And the explosion?”
“There was a cliff a few miles back.” Dean said. “Sam pushed him over.”
John turned dark eyes to his elder son. “He what?”
Explain later. More coming. We need to get away from here. Sam wiped the blood away from his nose.
Dean snorted. “Like I’m going to let you drive my car now?”
“You drive Dean. I’ll take the truck.” John said, turning away.
“Like hell.”
“That’s twice you’ve said that to me tonight.”
“And I’ll say it again if I have to Dad. You are not driving with that concussion. We’ll hide the truck. It’s beat to hell anyway and probably wouldn’t make it far.”
John and Dean stared at each other, pushing at one another across Sam until Sam stood upright and stepped between them.
“Dean’s right Dad. Let’s get your things.” John didn’t argue with Sam. He hadn’t argued with Sam for a long time now. Five minutes later, they were roaring back toward the motel. An hour later they were roaring out of Perryton.
The first stop they made was for gas. As they finished filling the tank, and John emerged from the bathroom with his face cleaned of the blood that had seeped from his busted forehead, Sam felt them. He looked up from the counter where he was buying M&Ms for Dean and sodas for them all and the cashier’s eyes turned black. He backed away, out the door. Gotta move. Now.
Dean saw it at the same time, another customer at the opposite pump, eyes black as night as they locked onto him. “Dad, in the car!”
The mechanic joined the others, herding the three of them into the car and Dean wasted no time pulling away from them. At the junction two miles up the road they were in cars blocking two of their choices and coming up behind them. Dean pulled them on to the clear road and pressed the pedal to the floor.
“I don’t like this.” John said.
“Me either.” Dean agreed. “They want us to go somewhere.”
Sam was quiet, closing his eyes. Dean reached for him but Sam held his hand up. There. Sam pointed without moving. A gravel road led north. “Follow this a few miles. It connects to a back road.”
John’s hand closed over his shoulder. “I’ll explain when we get some place safe. Promise.”
Dean snorted and Sam poked him. The next mile or so passed in silence, until the passed the gates of a small cemetery. “Sacred ground.” John murmured. “Smart boy.”
Sam smiled. “It should buy us a little time.” His head fell back against the seat. “The road is up ahead. Turn left.”
An hour later Dean parked the car behind the motel while Sam helped John into their room and started assessing his wounds. Sam wrapped himself around his father, half to comfort him, half to keep him from questioning too much for the moment. His fingers were delicate as they moved over the angry, bruised skin of his chest.
“It isn’t broken,” he murmured. He felt his way into John’s body, nodding as he confirmed what his fingers told him. “Concussion, bruised rib, sprained ankle. I think you’ll live,” he said with a smile as Dean joined them.
“Good. Now, explain.” Dean had his hands on his hips and was radiating anger. What the hell was that, Sammy
Sam sighed. You should know.
Dean cocked his head. He felt Sam directing his thoughts to the afternoon when he’d asked for everything. His concentration had been on the immediate, the issues with Garrett, with them. He hadn’t realized how much more there was.
“Is someone going to share with me?” John said, his voice irritated, but holding a hint of amusement as the expression on Dean’s face changed.
“Apparently, Sam’s gifts have been growing…changing.” Dean crossed his arms, the anger draining. “He’s moved things before…once.”
Sam sank to a seat against the headboard of the nearest bed. “I had a vision of Dean dying, and I pushed a piece of furniture with my mind.”
“When was this?”
“Before Garrett.” Sam said. “Never like this though. Never this big.”
“How?”
Sam shrugged. Just did. Knew what it wanted, how it found us. He opened up the connection more, his hand reaching for his father’s, his eyes drawing Dean closer. There were no words, only the feeling as it had come to him…then the feeling he’d gotten from the demons that took over the people at the gas station. West. Its somewhere west of here, and wants to push us there.
“Why?”
“We aren’t ready. It is.” Sam said.
“Ready for what, exactly?” Dean asked.
“To finish what it started when it took your mother.” John said, his face suddenly tired.
So we get ready.
Sam smiled for his brother, but in his heart he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “For now we rest, research…figure out where it is…figure out how…” He grimaced and closed his eyes. Dean’s hand rose to his head, as if it could hold off the pain. Sam gasped as the images came. His father stiffened, pulled deeper into the connection as Dean’s hand landed on his knee and the pain erupted.
The little girl. The demon. Yellow eyes. “Think you can hide from me, boy? Think they can help you?” it whispered in a voice to old and too masculine to be hers.
He felt Dean almost physically, bright, hot and beside him the cool reserve that was his father, both of them caught in the images with him. Both reeling under the pain. No. He pushed them away, or tried to, but Dean resisted, and John didn’t budge and Sam felt it slip away, the images fading to black, his head reeling before Dean’s hands were in his hair.
“Got you.” Dean was swaying on his feet and John looked like he was going to throw up when Sam finally opened his eyes. “We got you.”
Sam shook, but nodded for Dean, wanting to reassure him, wanting him to be right. “I’m okay.”
Dean released him and stepped back, surveying his family with an eye keener than many might give him credit for. “Okay. Sleeping pill for you.” He pointed at Sam. “Pain pill for you.” He pointed to his father. “Bed for both of you. I’ll walk down to the little Mom & Pop we saw coming in and get us some food.”
John looked like he was going to argue, but Dean cocked his finger at him. “Not a chance. I’ll salt the door and windows before I go…put a seal on the door.”
John sighed and shook his head. “Yeah…okay. I could use some sleep.”
“Damn right.” Dean fished out the last of the bottle of pills they’d hoarded, a few Vicoden, some Percocet and two of the sleeping pills the doctors had given Sam when he’d been released from the hospital all those months before. He handed them out and glared at them both until they’d taken the pills, then waited while they settled onto the two beds and at least pretended for his benefit that they were doing as he’d ordered.
He made quick work of the salt lines and let himself out, chalking a protective mark on the doorstep before pulling the door shut. He waited there, feeling Sam’s breathing deepen, his heart slow from the rapid fluttering that always came with the visions. No matter what he’d said, he wasn’t leaving until he knew Sam was asleep.
Not now, not after he’d realized…Missouri had seen it in Sam, tested it a little…it had been Missouri who had sent them to Carrie Rendon, the petite little dynamo who had taught Sam a modicum of control after the incident with Max Miller. But Carrie had sacrificed herself to protect the children of the town from an angry spirit tied to her ancestors before they had gotten very far.
Dean was scared. What Sam had done was so far beyond anything he had thought possible. What Dean had seen in the vision, what he’d heard…what he wasn’t even sure Sam had seen and heard…the voice that whispered to him…Dean knew what it wanted, and it knew exactly how to get it. And that, more than anything, shook him right down to his boots.
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