The night air was crisp and cold. Shadows flung by the full moon danced as the wind blew softly through the trees. The pale blue light just barely illuminated the small clearing with a run-down shack at the edge, but he could see clearly enough to be scared. Dean slowly raised his hands above his head.
"Look. Why don't you put the gun down and we can talk about this?"
"No!" the man shouted as he continued to point the gun at Sam, the moonlight glinting off the barrel. "I saw what he did. He shot my little girl!"
"But sir," Dean pleaded, inching closer to him. "All Sam shot was her spirit! Your little girl is dead." But the man was too far gone.
"No!" he yelled again, and pulled the trigger. Sam heard the shot and closed his eyes. But there was no pain. He looked up, and horror filled his heart. Dean stood directly between him and the man. Surprise flitted across his face as he looked at the growing red spot on his chest. He looked up.
"Sammy." he whispered, and crumpled to the ground.
"NO!" Sam heard himself scream and he tried to run, to get to his brother but he couldn't move and all he could see was a pool of his brothers blood slowly getting bigger...
~s~
"NO!" Sam shot straight up in bed, his shaggy hair plastered to his forehead and his shirt soaked with sweat. Sunlight streamed in the hotels dirty windows, and through them he could see the rolling green hills of Georgia. Moaning, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. They felt like someone had poured sand into them. He had gone to bed early last night, but he certainly didn't feel rested. He wished will all his heart that he could pretend that what he just woke up from was merely a nightmare, but he knew better. Lately he had been having dreams or visions that had turned out later to be premonitions of something that was going to happen in the future. It had only happened a few times, but he knew the difference between a regular dream and one of these. Untangling his long legs from the sheets and heading toward the bathroom, he noticed Dean wasn't in his double bed next to Sams. In a way, he was glad Dean wasn't there, as he didn't want to talk to him about his dream. At least, not yet. He splashed water on his face and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His green eyes had huge dark circles under them. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately, and what he did get was disturbed by nightmares. To tell the truth, he was starting to get scared. He didn't know what was happening to him. And although he hid it, Sam knew Dean was worried about him too.
"Honey, I'm home!" Sam heard the door click close and Deans footsteps in the room. Quickly he scrubbed the water off his face and walked out.
"Hey Dean." he said. "Where did you go?" Dean dropped into the only chair in the room and grinned.
"Well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, I was working. And look what I found." He held up a newspaper. "It says here that there has been three suicides in a county near here. Each of the people were described by others as insane before they killed themselves." Sam ran a hand through his hair.
"Dean, it just sounds like those people killed themselves, that's it."
"You might think that, but get this!" Dean stood up and showed the paper to Sam. "All three of these people were in government jobs. You have to take a psychological evaluation every month to keep your job. All were declared to be totally sane."
"Still..." Sam started.
"AND," Dean interrupted, "Each one of them lived in the same apartment building! Come on dude, do you think that three people from the same building are just going to happen to go insane at the same time?" Sam still wasn't totally convinced, but he knew his brother was getting restless. They hadn't had a job in about a week, and to tell the truth, Sam was tired of sitting around too. Besides, there wasn't an apartment building in his dream, so maybe they would be safe on this job. Or as close to safe as they ever got.
"Okay Dean." he said as he started to grab his few belongings and stuff them into his bag. "What are we waiting for? Let's go check this out!"
~s~
The Impala's engine purred as Dean pulled it up to the curb. He almost hated to shut her off. His dad had given Dean this car when he turned 18, and right now it was all the brothers had left of him. He was gone, hunting the demon that had killed their mom, and he wasn't telling his sons where he was. Dean was okay with that for now, but he knew Sam was struggling with it. Just as he was struggling with his visions, or whatever you wanted to call them. He was hiding it pretty well, but Dean knew his brother, and he could tell he was scared. Not that he would ever admit it to Sam, but deep down, he was scared too. Scared that this was something he couldn't control, scared that no matter how hard he tried, maybe this time he couldn't protect his little brother. The impala's squeaking door snapped him out of his reverie.
"So this is the place?" Sam asked as he unfolded his tall frame from the passenger seat.
"Yup." Dean replied. He opened his door and hopped out. "This is it." They both looked at the building. It certainly wasn't what Dean was expecting. The "apartment building" was an old white Victorian house with three floors. It stood in the suburbs of the town, and was surrounded by a short wall of shrubbery that separated it from its neighbors.
"This doesn't look like an apartment building." Sammy observed.
"Thank you Captain Obvious." Dean smirked. The gravel crunched under their feet as they made their way up the walk and onto the large, airy, wrap-around porch.
"Well...if we had to do a job somewhere, this is as nice as a place as any!" Dean grinned as he raised his hand to knock. Sam didn't respond. He was gazing around worriedly, his eyes scanning the area around the house. Dean nudged him with his shoulder. "Hello! Earth to Sammy!" he said. Then he looked at him a little closer, and for the first time that day noticed the dark lines under his little brothers eyes. "Hey," he said, suddenly concerned. "Are you okay?" Sam snapped out of his daydream and looked at him.
"Yeah." he shrugged, plastering a fake smile on his face, "I'm fine." Dean pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He always knew when Sam was lying to him and he was going to get to the bottom if it. But just at that second, the door in front of them opened. The man who opened it couldn't have been older than forty, but suspicion and sadness, and buried deep, fear had changed his face to that of an older man. Dean knew this face. He had seen it on too many people over the course of his life. People scared and shattered by things they didn't know about or believe in. It was people like this that reminded Dean why they did the job they did. For them.
"What do you want?" The man said, trying to sound friendly, but both brothers could hear the tone of fear underneath. "Are you more police? Look, I already told you all I know!"
"Sir! We aren't police! We just want to talk."
"I've talked to enough reporters" the man snorted, and proceeded to shut the door. Dean thrust his foot in between the door and the jamb before the man shut it completely
"Hey! We aren't police, we're here to see about renting a room." He and Sam had talked about this earlier, and had decided the best way to investigate was by staying in the place itself. The man looked suspiciously at them.
"Not that I couldn't use renters...but haven't you boys heard what had happened lately?"
"Not really." Dean lied. They had talked about this earlier too. If they acted innocent, people we more likely to talk. The man sighed.
"We can talk about everything more comfortably inside." He opened the door and gestured for them to come in. "I'm Andy, by the way." Dean stuck out his hand.
"I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sammy." Sam shook Andy's hand.
"Its Sam." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother and stuck his hands into his pockets.
"So Andy." he began brightly, "what's been happening?" Again Andy sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
"I guess I should tell you boys before you decide to get a room here." He bit his lip and his eyes shifted around the room, looking anywhere but the two brothers in front of him.
"Andy?" Sam prompted.
"Three people committed suicide in this building this month." Andy looked up, his face strained. "I need the money, but I just thought it fair to tell you. In case the police come back or anything." Dean looked at Sam, impressed. Honesty was hard to come by these days, and Dean immediately liked Andy.
"Whoa!" Dean pretended to be surprised. "Well, its not like they were murdered. Sometimes you can't save everyone." Andy looked uncomfortable. Sam gave him a concerned look.
"Andy? is something wrong?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you boys this." Andy pursed his lips. "But...there were some strange things going on before all of this." Dean raised his eyebrow.
"Strange things? Like what?"
"Well...things like a few days before everything, the tenants were complaining of banging and thumping noises in the wall. I thought it was the plumbing, but I had it checked out...nothing was wrong." He sighed. "Somedays I think I'm going crazy." Dean shot Sam a smug look. This was definitely starting to look like their kind of job.
~s~
"Haha! What did I tell you Sammy?" Dean dropped his duffle bag on the floor and turned to grin at his brother. "I knew there was more to this then a couple'a suicides!"
"Okay Dean!" Sam snapped at him. "You were right, for once. Just let it rest, okay?" Dean looked surprised and a little hurt at his outburst and Sam sighed. He didn't mean to yell at Dean, but after almost no sleep last night, filling out the paperwork for the room, and his brothers gloating, he had enough. He sprawled his large frame into one of the two chairs in the small living room and began massaging his eyes with his fingertips. "Sorry Dean." he mumbled. "I've just got a bad headache, thats all." He stopped and looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean stood in front of him, a worried look on his face.
"Sammy, are you alright? Are you feeling sick?" Sam forced a smile.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Taking a step back, Dean gazed critically at him.
"You don't look fine. You look like you haven't slept in a week!" A look of comprehension dawned on his face and he narrowed his eyes. "Sam, have you been having more dreams and not telling me?"
"No!" Sam hopped out of the chair and turned his back on him. "I just have a headache, thats all." He couldn't tell Dean about the vision, not yet. He himself could hardly think about it. In his vision, Dean had jumped in front of a bullet for him. There was no way he was going to tell Dean that! He wasn't going to tell Dean that he was essentially the cause of his death. Not yet, anyway. He knew he could change the vision, just like he did with Max. He had too. Dean glared at him a moment more, then turned and grabbed the impala keys from where he had dropped them on the small table.
"Fine" he said. "I'm gonna go do some research on this place." Sam started to go with him, but Dean held up a hand. "Nope, you're staying here. Get some rest. There's no way I want a grouch around tonight if we are gonna be digging up some poor persons grave." Sam eyed him suspiciously.
"Wait. You're going to go do some research? As in, go to the library and look at old newspapers, research?" Dean gave him a look of mock hurt.
"Sammy! You weren't always around, remember? When Dad and I were hunting, it was usually me who had to do the research. Man did that suck! You know, I always knew there was some reason I missed you when you were at college. Other than your beautiful face, of course." Sam gave him a "bite me" look. Dean continued. "'Sides, right now all the people we could talk to right now are at work." Swayed, Sam reluctantly agreed.
"Okay." he said. He didn't really want to let Dean out of his sight right now, but a nap sure did sound good. "Just be careful." Dean spread his arms out and grinned. "Dude! You really must be beat. What could happen to me at a library?"
~s~
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Dean lost his grin and scowled. He knew Sam was hiding something.
"Damn him!" he muttered under his breath as he trudged down the stairs. His and Sam's room was on the second floor of the house. The entire place was made up of six separate small apartments. There were three on the bottom floor, who on the second and the one on the top was where the landlord lived. Currently, besides the Winchesters and Andy, there was only one other person living there. The others either were the victims of whateveritwas or had left afterwards. Dean shook his head as he walked past the doors with the police tape still on them. He knew it would be useless to even take a look in those rooms after the police had their fingers all over it. But Dean did know that weren't merely dealing with multiple suicides, but with something far more supernatural. Earlier while Sam was filling out the paperwork for the room, Dena had casually sauntered over near one of the doors and turned on his EMF detector. It had lit up like a christmas tree. That in itself had worried him. EMF deteriorated rather quickly, and it was two days since the last "suicide." Whatever was killing these people, it was strong. Dean shook his head. Just standing around here isn't gonna help. he thought as he jogged out to the Impala.
As he drove toward the small library in town, his mind drifted back to Sam. Why was he hiding something? He was sure it had to do with his visions, but he didn't know what. Couldn't Sam see that this was not just his problem? This affected both of them. Sam was his brother, and if he didn't tell Dean when there was something wrong, how could he help? How could he do his job? All his life Dean had looked out for Sammy, and he certainly wasn't going to stop now. He nodded to himself as he pulled up to the library. No matter what, when he got back he was gonna make Sam tell him what was wrong. And no puppy-dog look was gonna get him out of it.
Dean strode into the library and frowned. Behind the desk was a librarian that had to have been born during the Civil War. Dang! he thought. No pretty college intern for him to charm today. Still, he put on his best smile and walked up to the desk.
"Hello" he said. "I'm writing a paper on the history of this town, and I was hoping you could show me where you keep all the records and newspapers and stuff?" The old crone looked up.
"What do you think I'm here for?" She snapped. "Of course I can show you where they are. This way!" She eased out of her seat and gestured for Dean to follow her. Okaaaaay. Dean thought. Hundred years old and a grouch. Just my luck. "Here." Old Crone scowled, pointing at a small room in the back. She glared at him over her glasses. "Don't rip any of the pages and make sure you put them back where you found them, you hear me young man?"
"Yes ma'am!" Dean gulped, his eyes wide. What did I ever you do you? "Excuse me for existing." he mumbled to himself as she hobbled away. Looking into the dark room, he sighed. "Well, time to get to work."
Three hours later he still hadn't found anything useful. He had used the library computers to search for any violent murders in the last century, but all the police files were either not there or classified. So he had gone back to researching the history of Andy's apartment building, but couldn't find a single death tied to the place.
"Damn it!" he swore, then glanced up at Old Crone. She glared back and put a wrinkled finger to her lips. "I'm gonna give you the finger in a second, lady." he muttered to himself. Shaking his head, he looked away. Suddenly, something caught his eye. It was an article in a paper from three years ago. He quickly scanned it and a grin lit up his whole face. "Yes!" he hooted, not caring this time what Old Crone thought. Chuckling to himself, he wrote down what he needed and rushed out, ignoring the old librarians screeching at him to come back and pick up his mess! He hopped into the Impala and gunned the engine. "Wait til I show Sammy this!"