SN/Medium Crossover Fic: Turn Left at L.A.
x-posted
Author: Trystan
Rating: same as show; language
Category: AU canon; crossover
Timeline: Supernatural, after S1; Medium, S3 (see Author’s Notes)
Spoilers: Supernatural: “Skin,” “Devil’s Trap” & my fic, “ Aftermath”; Medium: none
Author’s Notes: based on the circulating timeline, Devil’s Trap has been rumored to take place November 2, 2006; this is after that.
Notable Credits: thanks to jainadurron for the unintentional plot bunny; thanks to bandcqulsj for the title. Thanks to bodgei, lady_shain, and beluga for beta-reading... and thanks to digitalwave for catching a biggie! Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was. Allison is based on a real person, but she’s not mine either.
Tagline: Sam realizes he’s not the only one who has visions. But are his visions interfering with a DA’s consultant’s own visions?
Knowledge - was it worth such torment
To see the far side of shadow?
And still I’m standing here
I’m awaiting this grand transition
I’m a fool in search of wisdom,
And I’m on the road to madness
Yes, I’m on the road to madness…
~ Queensryche, ©1984
Phoenix, Arizona
The man was tall and muscular, he had a hint of a beard, and appeared to her to be in his late 40s. The lines around his eyes told her he had a rough life while he was alive. He seemed to be at peace with himself, but there was a sadness about him she couldn’t understand.
“I need to get a message to my boys,” he spoke in a gravelly voice with a Midwestern accent.
“You’re dead,” she reminded him.
“They need to know; this is important.”
She sighed, and looked around to get a bearing on where she was, but there was no scenery in this dreamscape.
“They need to know that everything’s all right. I forgive them; and to keep on with the search. It’s not over yet.”
“Who am I supposed to be telling?” she asked, wanting to make sure there was nothing more; she might wake up at any moment.
“My sons, Dean and Sam. They need to know I’m not a heartless bastard,” he smiled then, and his eyes flashed from brown to gold, and he was gone.
She let out a gasp, and Allison DuBois woke up.
Northern California
John Winchester’s eyes were brown, then they flashed golden, and Sam Winchester woke up with a gasp. In the dark motel room, he fumbled for his cell phone and flipped it open. It was four a.m. A glance at the other bed told him Dean was still asleep.
Sam laid back down on the bed, hands behind his head on the pillow, and stared. He tried to remember the dream. There was a woman in it - she had straight blonde hair with bangs almost to her eyes. She was wearing a business suit: brown skirt, brown jacket, cream colored blouse. There was a name badge clipped to the left side of the jacket, with her picture on it.
She was petite, and she was talking with their father. Their dead father.
Allison... something.
A half hour passed, and Sam was still awake. Getting out bed, he went over to the small table in the room and turned on his laptop.
DuBois, he remembered. After logging on and calling up a web browser, he searched on the name he recalled seeing on the nametag.
After a moment, the search engine found a hit: Allison DuBois, consultant to the Phoenix District Attorney, Manuel Devalos. Some people also thought she was psychic. Sam smiled, remembering their encounter with Missouri Moseley earlier that year. Dean would love it, Sam thought sarcastically.
He’ll also hate it when I tell him we have to go to Phoenix. There’s a reason I saw her with Dad, and I need to know what that is, Sam thought, as he turned and watched Dean sleep, knowing that in a matter of seconds, the elder Winchester would be pissed at his younger brother.
~*~
It took Dean a good ten minutes to realize that Sammy needed him to get up right then.
“Not again, Sammy,” Dean groaned and sank back into the pillows.
“This is different, Dean. She was talking to Dad.”
Dean woke up rather quickly at Sam’s words.
“And where is this... Allison... DuBois?” Dean asked, still clearing the cobwebs from his sleepy mind. Dean knew to trust Sam’s dreams, but, hell, it was almost five in the morning, and Dean probably needed coffee for this discussion.
“Phoenix.”
Dean fell back on the pillows that time.
“That’s like, 12 hours away, College Boy,” Dean groaned, pulling the other pillow over his face.
“I’ll drive?” Sam asked hopefully.
Dean threw the pillow at Sam. “Hell, no,” the older Winchester said. They’d retrieved their father’s black pick-up from Salvation, and drove that, while Bobby still worked on the Impala. Dean remembered what happened the last time Sam drove his car.
“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam said, tossing the pillow back. “This is important. I think Dad had some kind of message for us.” And he told Dean about their father’s eyes changing from brown to gold right before Sam woke up. Dean was silent for a long moment, and Sam thought his brother had gone back to sleep.
“Dean?”
“I’m still here, Sammy. Can’t this wait a few hours?”
Sam sighed, thinking it over. After his moment of silence, Sam agreed.
“All right, Dean. Nine o’clock, I want to leave.”
Dean sleepily nodded, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
~*~
They left at noon.
Sam had fallen back asleep waiting for Dean to wake up. He’d tried searching the internet for a possible job in Phoenix, and finding none, had crawled back into bed. Fortunately, the nightmares weren’t as bad as they had been, and Sam slept peacefully that morning.
When he woke, the sunlight in the room confused him at first. Dean was sitting at the table, using the laptop, which disoriented Sam even more.
“What time is it?” Sam asked, his voice rough from sleep.
“‘Bout 11:30,” Dean said from behind the laptop.
“Damn it, Dean, I wanted to leave at nine!”
“You needed your sleep. It was peaceful. For once,” Dean added.
Sam sat up, straightening out his t-shirt.
“I still have them sometimes,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “But you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night with them anymore. Until this morning.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He didn’t recall his dreams after he’d fallen back to sleep that morning, but rather the dream that woke him at four stayed with him.
And within a half hour, they were heading south on the I-5, which would take them to LA, and then they’d go west on to Phoenix.
At ten that night, they pulled into a motel parking lot.
“Dude, we’re two hours outside of Phoenix,” Sam pointed out.
“Dude,” Dean returned, “it’s ten o’clock at night, if you haven’t noticed. We’ve been in the car all day, and I’m exhausted. Besides, I’m sure this Allison is probably getting ready for bed too. And we don’t even know where she lives,” Dean snapped, and got out of the truck.
The motel room was just like any other room they’d spent the night in, just like any other hunting trip. But this wasn’t just like any other hunting trip. Their father was dead, killed in the search for the demon that killed their mother.
There was one bullet left in Samuel Colt’s gun, and Sam had decided to go to Phoenix, because John Winchester was talking to a woman who saw dead people.
Dean spent too long in the shower, and Sam spent too long online, each absorbed in their own thoughts of recent events.
Sam was more moody than usual, retreating to an online world where he could be anonymous, and not have to deal with the demons in his real world.
Dean had told Bobby to hang on to the urn with John’s ashes for a while. Dean would never admit it, but it was almost as if a piece of him was missing. After all, it had been just Dean and John for years after Sam had left for Stanford. But over the past year, Sam was once again an important asset to the team, making it stronger.
And now, after all they’d been through? To have their father die in a car wreck?
Quite possibly, Dean was asleep before his head hit the pillow. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask Sam what time he wanted to leave in the morning.
Sam posted to his Hunter’s Blog. He chatted with a few newfound friends online; and before he knew it, the sky was pink-tinged with the sunrise.
~*~
Sam slept the rest of the way to Phoenix. Dean was singing with the Metallica tape he’d salvaged from the Impala. In fact, he was able to save all his tapes, much to Sam’s chagrin. But the truck had a CD player, and Dean was slowly learning the merits of discs.
It was nearing noon when Dean pulled into the parking lot at the DA’s office. Sam was still sound asleep. Hating to wake up his brother, Dean parked and turned off the car. He banged on the steering wheel like a drum set during “One,” and before the song was halfway through, Sam was awake, and not very pleased at all.
“Damn it, Dean,” Sam growled at his brother.
“I’m not even going to ask you what time you went to sleep last night,” Dean warned.
“Good,” Sam retorted. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. When he realized where they were, he sat up in his seat.
“We’re going to need those suits again, Dean,” Sam noted, turning to face his brother, to see his reaction. Dean put his head back against the headrest and groaned.
“You know I hate wearing a suit, Sam, and besides - ” Dean was quiet a moment, remembering something, “ - they were in the Impala.”
“We’ll have to get new ones, Dean. Do you really think we’d be taken seriously in a DA’s office wearing jeans and t-shirts?” Sam asked. Dean realized it was rhetorical, so he didn’t reply.
“Sam, I can’t go in there with you,” Dean said after another moment.
“Why not?”
“Remember that... incident... in St. Louis?”
“Dean, the computer says you’re dead, not wanted. And besides, I don’t have to announce your name.”
“Why can’t we use aliases, just like we always do?”
“‘Cause if Dad has some kind of message for us, he’d use our real names.”
“How do you know Dad has a message for us?” Dean asked, suddenly curious.
“Why else would he be talking to a psychic?”
~*~
Within the hour, Dean and Sam were back at the DA’s office, dressed in black suits with white shirts. Dean had a black tie; Sam’s was light grey. The dress shoes Dean wore were still stiff, but Sam seemed to walk just fine in his. Dean loosened his tie a little. Sam shrugged, then tugged on his jacket to straighten it; and he and Dean entered the building.
The Phoenix Justice Building was a bustling place, and Sam studied the directory to find DA Devalos’ office. Dean fidgeted in his suit.
“C’mon,” Sam told Dean a few seconds later. “We need the elevator.”
Sam walked confidently through the crowd, while Dean suspiciously observed everyone. Admiring Sam’s composure, Dean did remember Sam had gone to Stanford to study law. He was in his element here.
The office was divided by low walls topped with glass, and Dean could see his younger brother talking to someone, who smiled and nodded, then got up from her desk while Sam stayed there. After a moment, she returned with another man who seemed very short standing next to Sam.
This newcomer had graying hair, was balding in spots, had the same color mustache, and seemed very patient as Sam spoke to him. After a moment, he smiled, nodded, and then Sam started to follow him. The younger Winchester looked back over his shoulder and motioned Dean to follow.
They were shown to a conference room, and the man told them to wait there. There was a hint of an accent in his voice, as if English might not have been his - or at least his parent’s - first language.
“Dude, what’s up?” Dean asked after the man left.
“That was DA Devalos. I told him who I was, and asked if we could see Allison DuBois. As soon as I confided in him I saw her in a dream - ”
“Wait, you what?” Dean surprised at Sam’s openness.
“ - he smiled, and asked me to follow him.”
“Huh,” Dean said, not as a question, but as if to say ‘well, that’s interesting.’
“Want to know what I think?” Sam asked, leaning back in one of the swivel chairs.
“What’s that?” Dean asked, sitting in a chair against the wall so he could see the whole room. He hated his back to the door; easier for a demon to sneak up on you.
“I think he was relieved.” At a curious glance from Dean, Sam continued. “He’s Allison’s boss. I’m pretty sure she told him her dream about Dad. I’m sure he’s relieved that her dreams aren’t just that.”
~*~
Allison DuBois was sitting at a long table looking through case files in another conference room when Manuel Devalos quietly opened the door, and sat down across from her.
“There’s a Sam Winchester here to see you?” he asked her. Although she’d been working for him for about three years, Devalos still regarded her with awe and caution. There had been times where her visions started out having nothing to do with the case. But as the case progressed, it seemed more and more that Allison was right. Devalos was still creeped out, too.
“Sam Winchester?” Allison asked, looking up from the files.
“He and his brother are in the other conference room.”
“Brother?” she asked, and suddenly she was very far away, remembering something. She murmured something barely audible, “it wasn’t Dean, was it?”
“He didn’t say,” Devalos asked. As much as Allison creeped him out, she was fascinating to watch while she was working.
“Hmm,” she said, still lost in her memory. She smiled faintly, but did not look down at her files.
“He asked for you by name,” the DA told her.
“Really?” she asked, returning to the present, closing her folders and stacking them up. “I suppose I should go see what they want, then.”
“Allison, are you all right?” Devalos asked, concerned.
“Sure, I’m fine.” She gathered up the folders, and left them neatly on the table.
Truth was, she was nervous. Although she’d only had the dream of the father - with the creepy gold eyes - looking for his sons only that one night, she couldn’t get those images out of her head.
Maybe there was more to it. Maybe it was completely random, she thought as she opened the door to the room where Sam and his brother were waiting. Maybe -
A blonde woman flashed in front of Alison’s eyes. She was pinned to the ceiling, her face contorted in pain. When the image burst into flame, Allison staggered forward and reached for a chair. Instead, Sam was there, to hold her arm, steady her.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yeah, I, uh, had a, uhm...” her voice trailed off at what she was about to say.
“Had a vision?” Sam finished for her.
Regaining her composure, she turned and closed the door. Then she turned to Sam.
“What do you know about that?” she was genuinely curious. She’d never seen these men before, but they seemed to know something about her.
Sam glanced at his brother, who simply smiled, leaving Sam to wrestle with his subconscious few seconds.
“Sam Winchester,” he said, remembering his manners first. He held out his had to her, which she shook gingerly. “I have visions too,” Sam admitted, and Allison smiled.
She turned to Dean. He rose and offered his hand. “Dean Winchester,” he said.
“Dean and Sam,” she murmured. To the brothers, she said, “I have a message for you, from - ”
“- Dad,” Sam finished her sentence. She looked startled a moment, processing this new information.
“May I see if I have something right?” she asked. When both brothers nodded, she continued. “You saw me in a vision,” she asked Sam, “involving your father. So you came here because you knew he had a message for you?”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Sam agreed.
“Huh,” she said.
“So, Dad did have a message?” Dean asked.
“He did. He wanted you to know he’s not a heartless bastard.” At Dean’s doubtful look, she continued with the message. “He said he forgives you, and to keep on with the search. And that it’s not over yet.” The brothers looked at each other and nodded.
They looked back at Allison when she asked the question that had been bothering her since she had the dream. “But I need to know one thing - what’s with the gold eyes?”
Dean visibly swallowed, and Sam tried to speak, but kept stumbling. Finally he managed, “Gold eyes?” and started coughing.
“You’ve seen them in your vision too?”
“It was a little more personal than that.” Dean spoke that time. “When we saw him with those eyes, he was possessed,” Dean said, taking a very big chance.
“Possessed. That’s an in - interesting theory. Possessed by what?” she asked in total innocence.
“Possessed by the Demon that killed our Mom,” Dean said, and Sam added, “and my girlfriend.”
Suddenly, Allison realized what that vision she’d had when she first entered this room meant: there was more to all this. Much more.
~*~
Allison woke with a gasp. She’d had a dream that strongly reminded her of the vision she got from the psychic hit from Sam earlier in the day. She looked to her right at the clock; its glowing numbers read 3:15. To her left was her sleeping husband, Joe. She laid back down, snuggled against him, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
She recognized the little white house, set back from the road, at the end of a short blacktopped driveway. She couldn’t place where she knew it from, only that it was very familiar.
A force compelled her towards the front door, and then she was inside the house, standing next to a crib. Sleeping inside was a brown-haired baby in a pink sleeper. She couldn’t have been more than six months old, Allison thought, but then became aware of another presence in the room. She’d never experienced this kind of sensation before.
Oh, the hair on the back of her neck had prickled many times in the past, but this was - well, different.
The baby woke and started fussing. Allison saw a dark figure of a man standing opposite from her, also looking in the crib at the baby.
At her daughter’s fussing, a young woman, wearing a cotton robe, came into the room, and suddenly stopped in the doorway.
“Who are you?” the mother demanded.
“Me?” Allison asked. The figure remained quiet.
“What are you doing in my house?” the mother demanded again, and Allison realized the young mother was talking to the silent figure.
The figure turned around to face the mother, and suddenly, she was hurled against the wall by an invisible force. The mother was so startled she couldn’t speak.
“What are you doing??” Allison screamed at the figure, who paid her no heed. The force was sliding the mother - who was now screaming at the figure not to hurt her baby - up the wall and onto the ceiling. Invisible claws slashed at her, and blood began to soak the middle of her robe.
“No!” Allison screamed at the figure. “Who are you??”
The figure slowly turned to Allison, his face cloaked in the darkness, but she could see his glowing golden eyes.
He looked at the ceiling, and Allison followed his line of sight to the mother, pinned to the ceiling, a look of shock and pain on her young features.
She burst into flames.
Allison sat bolt upright in her own bed, stifling a small scream, and gasping for breath. She realized it was daylight, and Joe was looking at her, concerned.
“Are you all right?” he asked, worried.
“I - think so. I need to find something.” There was a phone call she needed to make, which hopefully could answer some questions for her. She looked at her clock. It was almost time to take her daughters to school, and with any luck, she’d have her answers shortly after that.
Between juggling breakfast for her three girls, and trying to answer everyone’s questions about what was happening that morning, Allison was able to get her call made, and pushed the “end” button in her phone with satisfaction.
~*~
“Mommy, why is that big truck still behind us? And who are those guys?” asked Bridgette DuBois, a precocious elementary schooler. They were almost at the girls’ school, and Allison looked I her rear-view mirror to indeed see a black truck in the reflection. She smiled in recollection of her phone call, when she frantically told Sam Winchester about her dream. She was relieved that she was not going crazy, as she feared, but it was her turn to be creeped out that this had happened in the past.
“They’re going to help Mommy on a case,” she explained, as she pulled over in front of the school. “Okay, I’ll see you girls later,” she said, as Bridgette and her oldest daughter, Ariel, gave her kisses and climbed out of the car. The little one, Marie, waved her older sisters good-bye, but remained in her car seat in the seat behind her mother.
Sam got in the front seat, and turned back to signal to Dean that everything was ready to go, and closed the car door.
“So you’ve seen this house before?” he asked as she put the car in drive.
“I’m certain of it. I just don’t know where. I’m just guessing it’s on the way home from school.”
Sam nodded, and watched out the window at the passing houses. Five minutes later, Sam realized Dean was no longer behind them.
“Where’s Dean?” he asked rhetorically. “Turn around, we have to go back.”
Allison made a u-turn at the next intersection and back-tracked, until they saw Dean pulled over along the curb. Allison looked out the passenger window at the house the truck was parked in front of.
A little white house, set back a bit from the road, at the end of a short blacktopped driveway.
The one in her dream.
“Oh god,” she breathed.
~*~
“It’s gotta be the Demon, Dean,” Sam argued. “It’s here, in Phoenix, all the signs seem to point to it.”
“Refresh my memory again?” Dean asked, idly scrolling through a webpage he wasn’t really looking at. They were at the motel room that night, discussing the day’s big event of finding the house; and Allison almost having a nervous breakdown at realizing everything the Winchesters were said was true; that the Demon they were hunting was real. Now what would she tell her daughters when they told her they thought something was in the closet or hiding under the bed?
“Dad appeared to me and Allison at almost the same time, first as himself, then as the Demon. He has a message that it’s not over yet - ”
“ - and that he’s not a bastard,” Dean interjected bitterly.
“ - and then Allison has this dream about that house,” Sam said, sitting at the table near Dean. Sam reached out and closed the laptop. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah, Allison’s dream. Dad’s the fucking Demon.” He looked up. “Dad’s dead.”
“And Allison talks to the dead,” Sam reminded his brother. Dean sighed. Sam continued.
“We need to use the last bullet in the Colt, Dean.”
“No way, Sammy. That’s all we got left for that gun. What if it’s not the Demon?”
“What if it is, Dean? Dad said it’s not over yet.”
“Will you listen to yourself, Sammy? You’re starting to sound like me. We’re not using that last bullet until we know for sure.”
“Dean, I saw Dad’s eyes. He was possessed.”
“He’s dead,” Dean repeated.
“By the way, Dean, where is the Colt anyway?”
“It’s safe. You’re not using it. Dad would want us to know for certain before we waste another bullet.”
Sam sighed. Dean had a point. They couldn't be sure, just because all the signs pointed to the Demon being here in Phoenix. It was a master of deception, and it might appear, only to disappear in a black mist, just like last time.
Sam was torn. He wanted to use the bullet to shoot the thing now, and end it. But Dean was right. If John were still alive, and found out they’d wasted a bullet, there would be hell to pay.
And Sam had no proof that the Demon was in Phoenix. He’d had a dream of his dead father with glowing golden eyes. And at that same moment he did, a medium, over 700 miles away, had almost the same dream.
Dean was back on the computer, supposedly looking for their next job. With their father gone, there was no one to leave them clues, little bread crumb trails to follow. So why shouldn’t I go back to school? Sam though wryly. Because this is who I am now, a voice inside answered.
Some days, Sam wished he could shoot his conscience.
The ringing of Sam’s phone in the silent room startled the brothers. Sam recognized the local number at once.
“Allison? What is it?” he asked. Dean looked at his brother, concern etching his brow.
“Whoa, it’s all right, Allison, we’ll be right there,” Sam said, getting up and motioning for Dean to do the same. “We’re on our way right now.”
“Where are we going?” Dean asked, grabbing the keys to the truck.
“Back to that house where we were this morning. It’s on fire.”
~*~
Sam calmed down an hysterical Allison enough to learn what happened. She’d driven by the house on her way to school to pick up the girls up, and had to stop.
“I - I knocked on the door. I told her she didn’t know me, but I thought her life was in danger, and she had to get out. She didn’t believe me, of course.”
“Of course,” Sam agreed. Dean approached the house to talk to the firemen.
“I came back later tonight, after dinner, to see if for some silly reason she’d listened, and I heard screaming. When I ran in the house, it was exactly like in my dream! Oh god,” she sobbed, and added softer, “what’s happening here?”
“I wish I knew what to say, Allison. I’m sorry.”
“It’s - it’s just me, Sam. I’m all right. I - ”
Dean returned to where Sam and Allison were standing. He nodded at Sam, confirming what they speculated had, indeed, happened. Allison sighed, her body slightly shuddering from the traumatic event she’d witnessed.
Sam shook his head. “We should have used it, Dean.”
Allison looked from Dean to Sam. “Used what?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter now, apparently,” Sam shot at his brother.
“What was it?” Allison asked again.
“A gun,” Dean said, “with special bullets that can kill anything supernatural.”
“A gun,” Allison repeated blankly. “Why didn’t you use it?” she asked, almost hysterical again.
“We only have one bullet left, and we didn’t know for certain if this was the Demon we’ve been hunting,” Sam said. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam’s rational explanation to Allison. Maybe Sammy should have gone to school for acting, Dean thought wryly.
“C’mon, Sam. We gotta check out and go. I think I might have found something for us to look into.”
“Wait, that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” Allison gasped.
Sam sighed. “Yeah,” he finally said, “there’s really nothing more we can do here.” He hugged her, which proved awkward, as she was more than a foot shorter than the younger Winchester. When she stepped out of the hug, she turned to Dean.
“Thank you, too,” she smiled. “Just, uh, what do I tell your father if I see him again?”
“Tell him - ” Dean glanced at Sam, then back to Allison. “ - tell him that we know it’s not over. We’re still hunting.”
“It’s what we do,” Sam added with a shrug. He gently gave Allison’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and followed his brother to the car.
“So where are we off to now?” Sam asked.
“Roswell.”
“That’s another half-day’s drive! What the hell is in Roswell, Dean?”
“Aliens, of course.”
It was Sam’s turn to thump Dean on the back of his head.
“Okay,” Dean amended, “ghosts of aliens. Some haunted café called The Crashdown, or something like that.”
Sam just shook his head unbelievingly.
“Stay on the course to pass
You’ll never find the answer
To a place where darkened angels
Seemed lost and never found.
Scream to see the light of
Forming figures fast behind you;
Lay the past in the wind to spin
And your fate will sail beyond the open plains...”
***
Supernatural Crossover Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2006 by Caren Franco
Beta-read by Dantana Skywalker, Bodgei, Lady Shain, Livi, and DigitalWave. Title by B. Dean, Sam, and John Winchester; Missouri Moseley, Samuel Colt’s gun, Bobby Singer, and Salvation, Iowa were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; and Warner Brothers. Allison DuBois is based on a real person; this character, Joe, Ariel, Bridgette, and Marie DuBois; and DA Manuel Devalos were created by Glen Gordon Caron, Grammnet Productions, Paramount Network Television Productions, and Picturemaker Productions. The Crashdown was created by Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, 20th Century Fox Television, Jason Katims Productions and Regency Television. “Roads to Madness” from “The Warning” by Queensryche ©1984. “One” from “...And Justice For All” by Metallica ©1988.
Author: Trystan
Rating: same as show; language
Category: AU canon; crossover
Timeline: Supernatural, after S1; Medium, S3 (see Author’s Notes)
Spoilers: Supernatural: “Skin,” “Devil’s Trap” & my fic, “ Aftermath”; Medium: none
Author’s Notes: based on the circulating timeline, Devil’s Trap has been rumored to take place November 2, 2006; this is after that.
Notable Credits: thanks to jainadurron for the unintentional plot bunny; thanks to bandcqulsj for the title. Thanks to bodgei, lady_shain, and beluga for beta-reading... and thanks to digitalwave for catching a biggie! Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was. Allison is based on a real person, but she’s not mine either.
Tagline: Sam realizes he’s not the only one who has visions. But are his visions interfering with a DA’s consultant’s own visions?
Knowledge - was it worth such torment
To see the far side of shadow?
And still I’m standing here
I’m awaiting this grand transition
I’m a fool in search of wisdom,
And I’m on the road to madness
Yes, I’m on the road to madness…
~ Queensryche, ©1984
Phoenix, Arizona
The man was tall and muscular, he had a hint of a beard, and appeared to her to be in his late 40s. The lines around his eyes told her he had a rough life while he was alive. He seemed to be at peace with himself, but there was a sadness about him she couldn’t understand.
“I need to get a message to my boys,” he spoke in a gravelly voice with a Midwestern accent.
“You’re dead,” she reminded him.
“They need to know; this is important.”
She sighed, and looked around to get a bearing on where she was, but there was no scenery in this dreamscape.
“They need to know that everything’s all right. I forgive them; and to keep on with the search. It’s not over yet.”
“Who am I supposed to be telling?” she asked, wanting to make sure there was nothing more; she might wake up at any moment.
“My sons, Dean and Sam. They need to know I’m not a heartless bastard,” he smiled then, and his eyes flashed from brown to gold, and he was gone.
She let out a gasp, and Allison DuBois woke up.
Northern California
John Winchester’s eyes were brown, then they flashed golden, and Sam Winchester woke up with a gasp. In the dark motel room, he fumbled for his cell phone and flipped it open. It was four a.m. A glance at the other bed told him Dean was still asleep.
Sam laid back down on the bed, hands behind his head on the pillow, and stared. He tried to remember the dream. There was a woman in it - she had straight blonde hair with bangs almost to her eyes. She was wearing a business suit: brown skirt, brown jacket, cream colored blouse. There was a name badge clipped to the left side of the jacket, with her picture on it.
She was petite, and she was talking with their father. Their dead father.
Allison... something.
A half hour passed, and Sam was still awake. Getting out bed, he went over to the small table in the room and turned on his laptop.
DuBois, he remembered. After logging on and calling up a web browser, he searched on the name he recalled seeing on the nametag.
After a moment, the search engine found a hit: Allison DuBois, consultant to the Phoenix District Attorney, Manuel Devalos. Some people also thought she was psychic. Sam smiled, remembering their encounter with Missouri Moseley earlier that year. Dean would love it, Sam thought sarcastically.
He’ll also hate it when I tell him we have to go to Phoenix. There’s a reason I saw her with Dad, and I need to know what that is, Sam thought, as he turned and watched Dean sleep, knowing that in a matter of seconds, the elder Winchester would be pissed at his younger brother.
~*~
It took Dean a good ten minutes to realize that Sammy needed him to get up right then.
“Not again, Sammy,” Dean groaned and sank back into the pillows.
“This is different, Dean. She was talking to Dad.”
Dean woke up rather quickly at Sam’s words.
“And where is this... Allison... DuBois?” Dean asked, still clearing the cobwebs from his sleepy mind. Dean knew to trust Sam’s dreams, but, hell, it was almost five in the morning, and Dean probably needed coffee for this discussion.
“Phoenix.”
Dean fell back on the pillows that time.
“That’s like, 12 hours away, College Boy,” Dean groaned, pulling the other pillow over his face.
“I’ll drive?” Sam asked hopefully.
Dean threw the pillow at Sam. “Hell, no,” the older Winchester said. They’d retrieved their father’s black pick-up from Salvation, and drove that, while Bobby still worked on the Impala. Dean remembered what happened the last time Sam drove his car.
“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam said, tossing the pillow back. “This is important. I think Dad had some kind of message for us.” And he told Dean about their father’s eyes changing from brown to gold right before Sam woke up. Dean was silent for a long moment, and Sam thought his brother had gone back to sleep.
“Dean?”
“I’m still here, Sammy. Can’t this wait a few hours?”
Sam sighed, thinking it over. After his moment of silence, Sam agreed.
“All right, Dean. Nine o’clock, I want to leave.”
Dean sleepily nodded, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
~*~
They left at noon.
Sam had fallen back asleep waiting for Dean to wake up. He’d tried searching the internet for a possible job in Phoenix, and finding none, had crawled back into bed. Fortunately, the nightmares weren’t as bad as they had been, and Sam slept peacefully that morning.
When he woke, the sunlight in the room confused him at first. Dean was sitting at the table, using the laptop, which disoriented Sam even more.
“What time is it?” Sam asked, his voice rough from sleep.
“‘Bout 11:30,” Dean said from behind the laptop.
“Damn it, Dean, I wanted to leave at nine!”
“You needed your sleep. It was peaceful. For once,” Dean added.
Sam sat up, straightening out his t-shirt.
“I still have them sometimes,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “But you don’t wake me up in the middle of the night with them anymore. Until this morning.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He didn’t recall his dreams after he’d fallen back to sleep that morning, but rather the dream that woke him at four stayed with him.
And within a half hour, they were heading south on the I-5, which would take them to LA, and then they’d go west on to Phoenix.
At ten that night, they pulled into a motel parking lot.
“Dude, we’re two hours outside of Phoenix,” Sam pointed out.
“Dude,” Dean returned, “it’s ten o’clock at night, if you haven’t noticed. We’ve been in the car all day, and I’m exhausted. Besides, I’m sure this Allison is probably getting ready for bed too. And we don’t even know where she lives,” Dean snapped, and got out of the truck.
The motel room was just like any other room they’d spent the night in, just like any other hunting trip. But this wasn’t just like any other hunting trip. Their father was dead, killed in the search for the demon that killed their mother.
There was one bullet left in Samuel Colt’s gun, and Sam had decided to go to Phoenix, because John Winchester was talking to a woman who saw dead people.
Dean spent too long in the shower, and Sam spent too long online, each absorbed in their own thoughts of recent events.
Sam was more moody than usual, retreating to an online world where he could be anonymous, and not have to deal with the demons in his real world.
Dean had told Bobby to hang on to the urn with John’s ashes for a while. Dean would never admit it, but it was almost as if a piece of him was missing. After all, it had been just Dean and John for years after Sam had left for Stanford. But over the past year, Sam was once again an important asset to the team, making it stronger.
And now, after all they’d been through? To have their father die in a car wreck?
Quite possibly, Dean was asleep before his head hit the pillow. It hadn’t even occurred to him to ask Sam what time he wanted to leave in the morning.
Sam posted to his Hunter’s Blog. He chatted with a few newfound friends online; and before he knew it, the sky was pink-tinged with the sunrise.
~*~
Sam slept the rest of the way to Phoenix. Dean was singing with the Metallica tape he’d salvaged from the Impala. In fact, he was able to save all his tapes, much to Sam’s chagrin. But the truck had a CD player, and Dean was slowly learning the merits of discs.
It was nearing noon when Dean pulled into the parking lot at the DA’s office. Sam was still sound asleep. Hating to wake up his brother, Dean parked and turned off the car. He banged on the steering wheel like a drum set during “One,” and before the song was halfway through, Sam was awake, and not very pleased at all.
“Damn it, Dean,” Sam growled at his brother.
“I’m not even going to ask you what time you went to sleep last night,” Dean warned.
“Good,” Sam retorted. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. When he realized where they were, he sat up in his seat.
“We’re going to need those suits again, Dean,” Sam noted, turning to face his brother, to see his reaction. Dean put his head back against the headrest and groaned.
“You know I hate wearing a suit, Sam, and besides - ” Dean was quiet a moment, remembering something, “ - they were in the Impala.”
“We’ll have to get new ones, Dean. Do you really think we’d be taken seriously in a DA’s office wearing jeans and t-shirts?” Sam asked. Dean realized it was rhetorical, so he didn’t reply.
“Sam, I can’t go in there with you,” Dean said after another moment.
“Why not?”
“Remember that... incident... in St. Louis?”
“Dean, the computer says you’re dead, not wanted. And besides, I don’t have to announce your name.”
“Why can’t we use aliases, just like we always do?”
“‘Cause if Dad has some kind of message for us, he’d use our real names.”
“How do you know Dad has a message for us?” Dean asked, suddenly curious.
“Why else would he be talking to a psychic?”
~*~
Within the hour, Dean and Sam were back at the DA’s office, dressed in black suits with white shirts. Dean had a black tie; Sam’s was light grey. The dress shoes Dean wore were still stiff, but Sam seemed to walk just fine in his. Dean loosened his tie a little. Sam shrugged, then tugged on his jacket to straighten it; and he and Dean entered the building.
The Phoenix Justice Building was a bustling place, and Sam studied the directory to find DA Devalos’ office. Dean fidgeted in his suit.
“C’mon,” Sam told Dean a few seconds later. “We need the elevator.”
Sam walked confidently through the crowd, while Dean suspiciously observed everyone. Admiring Sam’s composure, Dean did remember Sam had gone to Stanford to study law. He was in his element here.
The office was divided by low walls topped with glass, and Dean could see his younger brother talking to someone, who smiled and nodded, then got up from her desk while Sam stayed there. After a moment, she returned with another man who seemed very short standing next to Sam.
This newcomer had graying hair, was balding in spots, had the same color mustache, and seemed very patient as Sam spoke to him. After a moment, he smiled, nodded, and then Sam started to follow him. The younger Winchester looked back over his shoulder and motioned Dean to follow.
They were shown to a conference room, and the man told them to wait there. There was a hint of an accent in his voice, as if English might not have been his - or at least his parent’s - first language.
“Dude, what’s up?” Dean asked after the man left.
“That was DA Devalos. I told him who I was, and asked if we could see Allison DuBois. As soon as I confided in him I saw her in a dream - ”
“Wait, you what?” Dean surprised at Sam’s openness.
“ - he smiled, and asked me to follow him.”
“Huh,” Dean said, not as a question, but as if to say ‘well, that’s interesting.’
“Want to know what I think?” Sam asked, leaning back in one of the swivel chairs.
“What’s that?” Dean asked, sitting in a chair against the wall so he could see the whole room. He hated his back to the door; easier for a demon to sneak up on you.
“I think he was relieved.” At a curious glance from Dean, Sam continued. “He’s Allison’s boss. I’m pretty sure she told him her dream about Dad. I’m sure he’s relieved that her dreams aren’t just that.”
~*~
Allison DuBois was sitting at a long table looking through case files in another conference room when Manuel Devalos quietly opened the door, and sat down across from her.
“There’s a Sam Winchester here to see you?” he asked her. Although she’d been working for him for about three years, Devalos still regarded her with awe and caution. There had been times where her visions started out having nothing to do with the case. But as the case progressed, it seemed more and more that Allison was right. Devalos was still creeped out, too.
“Sam Winchester?” Allison asked, looking up from the files.
“He and his brother are in the other conference room.”
“Brother?” she asked, and suddenly she was very far away, remembering something. She murmured something barely audible, “it wasn’t Dean, was it?”
“He didn’t say,” Devalos asked. As much as Allison creeped him out, she was fascinating to watch while she was working.
“Hmm,” she said, still lost in her memory. She smiled faintly, but did not look down at her files.
“He asked for you by name,” the DA told her.
“Really?” she asked, returning to the present, closing her folders and stacking them up. “I suppose I should go see what they want, then.”
“Allison, are you all right?” Devalos asked, concerned.
“Sure, I’m fine.” She gathered up the folders, and left them neatly on the table.
Truth was, she was nervous. Although she’d only had the dream of the father - with the creepy gold eyes - looking for his sons only that one night, she couldn’t get those images out of her head.
Maybe there was more to it. Maybe it was completely random, she thought as she opened the door to the room where Sam and his brother were waiting. Maybe -
A blonde woman flashed in front of Alison’s eyes. She was pinned to the ceiling, her face contorted in pain. When the image burst into flame, Allison staggered forward and reached for a chair. Instead, Sam was there, to hold her arm, steady her.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yeah, I, uh, had a, uhm...” her voice trailed off at what she was about to say.
“Had a vision?” Sam finished for her.
Regaining her composure, she turned and closed the door. Then she turned to Sam.
“What do you know about that?” she was genuinely curious. She’d never seen these men before, but they seemed to know something about her.
Sam glanced at his brother, who simply smiled, leaving Sam to wrestle with his subconscious few seconds.
“Sam Winchester,” he said, remembering his manners first. He held out his had to her, which she shook gingerly. “I have visions too,” Sam admitted, and Allison smiled.
She turned to Dean. He rose and offered his hand. “Dean Winchester,” he said.
“Dean and Sam,” she murmured. To the brothers, she said, “I have a message for you, from - ”
“- Dad,” Sam finished her sentence. She looked startled a moment, processing this new information.
“May I see if I have something right?” she asked. When both brothers nodded, she continued. “You saw me in a vision,” she asked Sam, “involving your father. So you came here because you knew he had a message for you?”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Sam agreed.
“Huh,” she said.
“So, Dad did have a message?” Dean asked.
“He did. He wanted you to know he’s not a heartless bastard.” At Dean’s doubtful look, she continued with the message. “He said he forgives you, and to keep on with the search. And that it’s not over yet.” The brothers looked at each other and nodded.
They looked back at Allison when she asked the question that had been bothering her since she had the dream. “But I need to know one thing - what’s with the gold eyes?”
Dean visibly swallowed, and Sam tried to speak, but kept stumbling. Finally he managed, “Gold eyes?” and started coughing.
“You’ve seen them in your vision too?”
“It was a little more personal than that.” Dean spoke that time. “When we saw him with those eyes, he was possessed,” Dean said, taking a very big chance.
“Possessed. That’s an in - interesting theory. Possessed by what?” she asked in total innocence.
“Possessed by the Demon that killed our Mom,” Dean said, and Sam added, “and my girlfriend.”
Suddenly, Allison realized what that vision she’d had when she first entered this room meant: there was more to all this. Much more.
~*~
Allison woke with a gasp. She’d had a dream that strongly reminded her of the vision she got from the psychic hit from Sam earlier in the day. She looked to her right at the clock; its glowing numbers read 3:15. To her left was her sleeping husband, Joe. She laid back down, snuggled against him, and fell into an uneasy sleep.
She recognized the little white house, set back from the road, at the end of a short blacktopped driveway. She couldn’t place where she knew it from, only that it was very familiar.
A force compelled her towards the front door, and then she was inside the house, standing next to a crib. Sleeping inside was a brown-haired baby in a pink sleeper. She couldn’t have been more than six months old, Allison thought, but then became aware of another presence in the room. She’d never experienced this kind of sensation before.
Oh, the hair on the back of her neck had prickled many times in the past, but this was - well, different.
The baby woke and started fussing. Allison saw a dark figure of a man standing opposite from her, also looking in the crib at the baby.
At her daughter’s fussing, a young woman, wearing a cotton robe, came into the room, and suddenly stopped in the doorway.
“Who are you?” the mother demanded.
“Me?” Allison asked. The figure remained quiet.
“What are you doing in my house?” the mother demanded again, and Allison realized the young mother was talking to the silent figure.
The figure turned around to face the mother, and suddenly, she was hurled against the wall by an invisible force. The mother was so startled she couldn’t speak.
“What are you doing??” Allison screamed at the figure, who paid her no heed. The force was sliding the mother - who was now screaming at the figure not to hurt her baby - up the wall and onto the ceiling. Invisible claws slashed at her, and blood began to soak the middle of her robe.
“No!” Allison screamed at the figure. “Who are you??”
The figure slowly turned to Allison, his face cloaked in the darkness, but she could see his glowing golden eyes.
He looked at the ceiling, and Allison followed his line of sight to the mother, pinned to the ceiling, a look of shock and pain on her young features.
She burst into flames.
Allison sat bolt upright in her own bed, stifling a small scream, and gasping for breath. She realized it was daylight, and Joe was looking at her, concerned.
“Are you all right?” he asked, worried.
“I - think so. I need to find something.” There was a phone call she needed to make, which hopefully could answer some questions for her. She looked at her clock. It was almost time to take her daughters to school, and with any luck, she’d have her answers shortly after that.
Between juggling breakfast for her three girls, and trying to answer everyone’s questions about what was happening that morning, Allison was able to get her call made, and pushed the “end” button in her phone with satisfaction.
~*~
“Mommy, why is that big truck still behind us? And who are those guys?” asked Bridgette DuBois, a precocious elementary schooler. They were almost at the girls’ school, and Allison looked I her rear-view mirror to indeed see a black truck in the reflection. She smiled in recollection of her phone call, when she frantically told Sam Winchester about her dream. She was relieved that she was not going crazy, as she feared, but it was her turn to be creeped out that this had happened in the past.
“They’re going to help Mommy on a case,” she explained, as she pulled over in front of the school. “Okay, I’ll see you girls later,” she said, as Bridgette and her oldest daughter, Ariel, gave her kisses and climbed out of the car. The little one, Marie, waved her older sisters good-bye, but remained in her car seat in the seat behind her mother.
Sam got in the front seat, and turned back to signal to Dean that everything was ready to go, and closed the car door.
“So you’ve seen this house before?” he asked as she put the car in drive.
“I’m certain of it. I just don’t know where. I’m just guessing it’s on the way home from school.”
Sam nodded, and watched out the window at the passing houses. Five minutes later, Sam realized Dean was no longer behind them.
“Where’s Dean?” he asked rhetorically. “Turn around, we have to go back.”
Allison made a u-turn at the next intersection and back-tracked, until they saw Dean pulled over along the curb. Allison looked out the passenger window at the house the truck was parked in front of.
A little white house, set back a bit from the road, at the end of a short blacktopped driveway.
The one in her dream.
“Oh god,” she breathed.
~*~
“It’s gotta be the Demon, Dean,” Sam argued. “It’s here, in Phoenix, all the signs seem to point to it.”
“Refresh my memory again?” Dean asked, idly scrolling through a webpage he wasn’t really looking at. They were at the motel room that night, discussing the day’s big event of finding the house; and Allison almost having a nervous breakdown at realizing everything the Winchesters were said was true; that the Demon they were hunting was real. Now what would she tell her daughters when they told her they thought something was in the closet or hiding under the bed?
“Dad appeared to me and Allison at almost the same time, first as himself, then as the Demon. He has a message that it’s not over yet - ”
“ - and that he’s not a bastard,” Dean interjected bitterly.
“ - and then Allison has this dream about that house,” Sam said, sitting at the table near Dean. Sam reached out and closed the laptop. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yeah, Allison’s dream. Dad’s the fucking Demon.” He looked up. “Dad’s dead.”
“And Allison talks to the dead,” Sam reminded his brother. Dean sighed. Sam continued.
“We need to use the last bullet in the Colt, Dean.”
“No way, Sammy. That’s all we got left for that gun. What if it’s not the Demon?”
“What if it is, Dean? Dad said it’s not over yet.”
“Will you listen to yourself, Sammy? You’re starting to sound like me. We’re not using that last bullet until we know for sure.”
“Dean, I saw Dad’s eyes. He was possessed.”
“He’s dead,” Dean repeated.
“By the way, Dean, where is the Colt anyway?”
“It’s safe. You’re not using it. Dad would want us to know for certain before we waste another bullet.”
Sam sighed. Dean had a point. They couldn't be sure, just because all the signs pointed to the Demon being here in Phoenix. It was a master of deception, and it might appear, only to disappear in a black mist, just like last time.
Sam was torn. He wanted to use the bullet to shoot the thing now, and end it. But Dean was right. If John were still alive, and found out they’d wasted a bullet, there would be hell to pay.
And Sam had no proof that the Demon was in Phoenix. He’d had a dream of his dead father with glowing golden eyes. And at that same moment he did, a medium, over 700 miles away, had almost the same dream.
Dean was back on the computer, supposedly looking for their next job. With their father gone, there was no one to leave them clues, little bread crumb trails to follow. So why shouldn’t I go back to school? Sam though wryly. Because this is who I am now, a voice inside answered.
Some days, Sam wished he could shoot his conscience.
The ringing of Sam’s phone in the silent room startled the brothers. Sam recognized the local number at once.
“Allison? What is it?” he asked. Dean looked at his brother, concern etching his brow.
“Whoa, it’s all right, Allison, we’ll be right there,” Sam said, getting up and motioning for Dean to do the same. “We’re on our way right now.”
“Where are we going?” Dean asked, grabbing the keys to the truck.
“Back to that house where we were this morning. It’s on fire.”
~*~
Sam calmed down an hysterical Allison enough to learn what happened. She’d driven by the house on her way to school to pick up the girls up, and had to stop.
“I - I knocked on the door. I told her she didn’t know me, but I thought her life was in danger, and she had to get out. She didn’t believe me, of course.”
“Of course,” Sam agreed. Dean approached the house to talk to the firemen.
“I came back later tonight, after dinner, to see if for some silly reason she’d listened, and I heard screaming. When I ran in the house, it was exactly like in my dream! Oh god,” she sobbed, and added softer, “what’s happening here?”
“I wish I knew what to say, Allison. I’m sorry.”
“It’s - it’s just me, Sam. I’m all right. I - ”
Dean returned to where Sam and Allison were standing. He nodded at Sam, confirming what they speculated had, indeed, happened. Allison sighed, her body slightly shuddering from the traumatic event she’d witnessed.
Sam shook his head. “We should have used it, Dean.”
Allison looked from Dean to Sam. “Used what?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter now, apparently,” Sam shot at his brother.
“What was it?” Allison asked again.
“A gun,” Dean said, “with special bullets that can kill anything supernatural.”
“A gun,” Allison repeated blankly. “Why didn’t you use it?” she asked, almost hysterical again.
“We only have one bullet left, and we didn’t know for certain if this was the Demon we’ve been hunting,” Sam said. Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam’s rational explanation to Allison. Maybe Sammy should have gone to school for acting, Dean thought wryly.
“C’mon, Sam. We gotta check out and go. I think I might have found something for us to look into.”
“Wait, that’s it? You’re just going to leave?” Allison gasped.
Sam sighed. “Yeah,” he finally said, “there’s really nothing more we can do here.” He hugged her, which proved awkward, as she was more than a foot shorter than the younger Winchester. When she stepped out of the hug, she turned to Dean.
“Thank you, too,” she smiled. “Just, uh, what do I tell your father if I see him again?”
“Tell him - ” Dean glanced at Sam, then back to Allison. “ - tell him that we know it’s not over. We’re still hunting.”
“It’s what we do,” Sam added with a shrug. He gently gave Allison’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and followed his brother to the car.
“So where are we off to now?” Sam asked.
“Roswell.”
“That’s another half-day’s drive! What the hell is in Roswell, Dean?”
“Aliens, of course.”
It was Sam’s turn to thump Dean on the back of his head.
“Okay,” Dean amended, “ghosts of aliens. Some haunted café called The Crashdown, or something like that.”
Sam just shook his head unbelievingly.
“Stay on the course to pass
You’ll never find the answer
To a place where darkened angels
Seemed lost and never found.
Scream to see the light of
Forming figures fast behind you;
Lay the past in the wind to spin
And your fate will sail beyond the open plains...”
***
Supernatural Crossover Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2006 by Caren Franco
Beta-read by Dantana Skywalker, Bodgei, Lady Shain, Livi, and DigitalWave. Title by B. Dean, Sam, and John Winchester; Missouri Moseley, Samuel Colt’s gun, Bobby Singer, and Salvation, Iowa were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; and Warner Brothers. Allison DuBois is based on a real person; this character, Joe, Ariel, Bridgette, and Marie DuBois; and DA Manuel Devalos were created by Glen Gordon Caron, Grammnet Productions, Paramount Network Television Productions, and Picturemaker Productions. The Crashdown was created by Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, 20th Century Fox Television, Jason Katims Productions and Regency Television. “Roads to Madness” from “The Warning” by Queensryche ©1984. “One” from “...And Justice For All” by Metallica ©1988.