Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. This is all just a bit of harmless fun.

Summary: Sam and Dean knew this wouldn't be a normal hunt, but they underestimated how un-normal it would actually be. Takes place during season one, following the episode 'Shadow'.

Author's Note: I'm a new player in town so I appreciate any comments you could give me. The story starts a bit slow so I'll probably be posting the next few chapters within the next week.

-Chelsea

Come Alive

Chapter One- Where's Dean?

"This is Dean. Leave a message."

Sam shook his head and dropped his cell phone onto the rumpled sheets of his bed. He raked his hand through his long, shaggy hair and let out a deep sigh. He'd already left Dean four messages, and his brother still hadn't come back to the motel. He hadn't even returned his calls.

Dean's lack of response was spurring on a variety of emotions in Sam. Part of him was angry even though he knew that given the messages he'd left, Dean would be there if he could. That fact left him worried since Dean obviously couldn't get back. The optimistic part of him wanted to say that Dean hadn't even gotten his messages because he was out having a good time, which was perfectly fine. Dean deserved to have a good time after their last hunt.

It had started out normal enough - a series of mysterious break-ins in Chicago, but when Sam ran into Meg "accidentally", the hunt escalated and sent both Sam and Dean into a torrent of emotions, thinking that they actually might be facing the demon that killed their mother. The only good thing that came of it was that both Sam and Dean were able to see their dad in person, and know that he was at least alive, even though he took off after only a few short minutes, despite Sam's objections.

The news that their dad might be zeroing in on the demon made Sam anxious. It was baffling that suddenly all these signs were cropping up after twenty-two years of seeing absolutely nothing from the demon. It wasn't too long ago that Dean and Sam had stumbled onto a hunt after another of Sam's prophesizing dreams that led them to Saginaw, Michigan. There, they had made the startling discovery that Max Miller's mother had been killed in the exact same way as theirs. In addition, both he and Sam had psychic abilities. That was too much of a coincidence for Sam.

Thinking about his developing ability reminded Sam of the throbbing in his head and he dropped onto his pillow, massaging his temples. He glanced at the clock. It had now been almost an hour and a half since he'd had a vision. Four times he had called Dean. Nothing. Where was his brother?

Sam closed his eyes, recalling the vision with clarity.

The building was dim, but Sam instantly recognized it as the entranceway to a high school. A deep red, almost maroon, banner hung above the large glass doors, speaking of school spirit. Three kids, likely students at the school, were standing in a small circle, whispering to each other.

Through the large windows of the school, Sam could see the black sky and knew that these kids weren't supposed to be there. Everything was dark, and the three of them seemed to be the only ones around.

"Did you hear something?" a blond guy in baggy shorts and a t-shirt asked. The other two students stopped whispering for a moment to listen, but neither acknowledged the sound. Sam could hear it. Something was growling.

Before any of the kids could react, a large creature leaped towards them, knocking the blond kid to the ground. The other two students ran down the hallway, obviously not concerned for their fallen friend. Sam watched in unspeakable horror as the catlike animal ripped its claws into the poor kid's abdomen, warranting anguished cries from his wide open mouth. The screaming was cut short, however, as the creature swiped its paw across his throat. Gurgling replaced the shrill cries and blood dribbled down his chin. His body jerked convulsively as he tried to draw air into his lungs, but in a few short seconds, the blond boy was dead, his lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling of the school entryway.

The creature then raced down the hallway after the other two students and Sam saw no more.

The images still made Sam's stomach turn, and the first thing he'd done when the vision had passed was stumble to the bathroom and toss his cookies.

An hour and a half ago.

If this was happening tonight, chances are it had already happened, or if not, was going to happen very soon. After doing a small bit of research, Sam had concluded that they were about four to five hours from where this would happen. While lucky that they were this close, time could still slip away from them if Dean didn't return soon. It was going on midnight, which meant that the sun would rise in approximately five to six hours. If it was going to happen tonight, Sam and Dean most likely wouldn't make it in time. And Sam was tired of being too late.

Since he had started having visions, he'd seen the imminent deaths of eight people. Eight? That almost didn't seem right. He and Dean were able to save the family of three that had moved into their old house. They were able to save Max Miller's stepmother. Sam, unbelievably, had been able to save Dean. Jim and Roger Miller had unfortunately met their demise because they couldn't make it in time. Not to mention the death of Max Miller himself, even if Sam hadn't foreseen it. That left…that left Jess.

What frustrated Sam about Jess was that he hadn't even tried to save her. And he could have if he'd listened to his dreams and protected her. While the guilt was getting easier to manage every day, it still ate away at his psyche every time he closed his eyes. Every time he lie flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling, imaging the flames and the blood. Imagining her fearful eyes.

Counting it up, five out of eight wasn't bad. But when it came to people's lives, an imperfect record was unacceptable. And Sam was about to lose one, maybe even three more at the hands of some kind of lion-like creature.

Sam picked up his cell phone again.

"This is Dean. Leave a message."

Sam sighed. "It's me again. Look, I'm really close to leaving your ass behind so get back here." He hung up and closed his eyes, willing the headache to go away.

The thought of leaving Dean had crossed his mind. Sure, Dean had the Impala, but that had never stopped them before. It wouldn't take much to hotwire something out in the motel parking lot and head west on his own. He'd even started to write Dean a note, in case the messages hadn't gone through for whatever reason. He'd get about halfway through the note, ready to write down the destination, and his pen would freeze. There were already three crumbled up pieces of motel stationary in the trash can. This wasn't something he could just write in a note. Dean would kill him, but it wasn't like he hadn't tried to contact Dean first.

In addition, Sam's worry would come into play, and he felt reluctant to leave Dean behind in some random Missouri town if the reason he wasn't returning his calls or coming back was because he was in trouble. The whole situation left Sam at a loss, and he didn't exactly have the time to stew over his options.

"Damn it, Dean. Where are you?" Sam muttered. He rolled over on his side and buried his head into his pillow. The aspirin wasn't having its usual affect on his residual headache, and he was getting tired.

Within minutes, Sam drifted off to sleep, wondering with one last fleeting thought where his brother was.