Chapter 2

A Psychic is for Life Not Just for Christmas

Rick Siler was an old family friend of the Winchesters from long before the demon destroyed the lives of two small boys and their doting parents. He had seen the agonising downfall of John Winchester and witnessed first hand the devastating effects of the obsession which had taken over his once idyllic existence. Rick had attempted to help John through his grief encouraging him to focus on his sons who so desperately needed him but after finding John's version of the truth impossible to believe, had been gradually pushed away by the man's growing obsession to find the creature which had destroyed his family. Rick had long since moved north and settled in Minnesota with his brother who owned a large amount of land which was used mainly for hunting and fishing. Hikers and tourists would often venture into the large expanse of woods and it was these hikers and tourists that had become the problem. Or rather their mysterious disappearances.

Some years ago before Sam left his family in favour of college John had answered a desperate plea from his old friend who had begun to have second thoughts about his beliefs on the supernatural and such kind. Disappearances and strange sightings had left him both nervous and curious and he had braved the notorious area of woods to investigate. He had been horrified and shell shocked by what he had seen and immediately thought of John who wasn't at all surprised to hear about the Wendigo, which had been causing havoc and offered his assistance without hesitation. When John had disposed of the creature he had tried his hardest not to appear smug and vindicated but it had been difficult. The two had remained in contact ever since after Rick had begged John's forgiveness for not believing and supporting him. With a twinkle in his eyes John had simply laughed it off saying that he wouldn't have believed him either.

After hearing about John's death from mutual acquaintances he had been saddened and shocked that the man's mission had eventually defeated him and had managed to get in touch with his two sons to express his condolences. The youngest, Sam had been pleased and touched to hear from him and thanked him for his concern after reassuring him that they were both doing fine. Rick had been unconvinced but decided it wasn't his place to interfere and told Sam not to be a stranger. That was the last time he had heard from either of the boys and had often considered calling just to say "hi," but for some reason he hadn't got around to it.

The land that Rick's brother owned was in places rugged and unfriendly which made it the perfect habitat for beings not known to most humans to hide out until they needed to feed. He had been unnerved by several reports of hikers failing to return form their expeditions and in particular a middle aged couple who had not been seen since setting off to explore the woodland and the various fishing lakes. People did go missing on occasions but something about this particular report had him thinking that it wasn't a simple animal attack. A walking stick, a map and a rucksack had all been found around a mile in from the roadside but there was no sign of blood and no animal tracks. It was this reason that had made him pick up the phone and call the only two people he knew would be able to help.

Sam watched his brother as he chatted pleasantly with the man who he hadn't seen since he was in his late teens. The creature that Rick spoke of immediately made Sam think of a Wendigo until he had heard that there had been no blood trails or disembodied limbs. Flicking through his father's journal he tried to get the attention of his brother who was slumped over the table in their room trying to hold up his painfully throbbing head. Coffee and painkillers hadn't helped Dean's hangover and the bruise on his cheek had spread into a painful mass of purples and reds which obviously wasn't aiding his condition. Sam rolled his eyes still making conversation with the man who would provide them with their next job and who had promised he would make it worth their while. After promising to be there as soon as possible Sam said his goodbyes and hung up the phone before turning to the hung-over wreck that was his brother.

"You better look lively Dean, we got a hunt."

"No hunts, need sleep." the weariness and discomfort was evident in Dean's voice but for once Sam wasn't being sympathetic. It was self inflicted after all and Sam's patience could only stretch so far.

Using a knitting needle he had recently acquired he irritably scratched at the skin under the cast he had finally had put on his broken hand. He had paid a visit to the nearest hospital while Dean was busy with one of his conquests and was a little put out at how the nurse had scolded him for leaving it so long. It had only been a couple of days and it wasn't his fault that he had to keep an eye on his older brother who was nearly as irritating as the intense itching under the plaster. Sighing and groaning with pleasure as the needle did its work he again looked up at his brother who was giving him a strange look.

"What?"

Dean nodded at his little brothers cast.

"Would the two of you like to be alone?"

Sam made a face.

"It itches."

"Yeah? Well at least you don't feel like someone cut open your brain and took a crap in it."

Sam looked away and continued flicking through the journal, "Yeah, well you did that all by yourself, Dean."

"Y' know that's not entirely true. Personally I blame the whisky."

Sam looked up briefly, eyes narrowed and Dean recognised it as the I'm Not Even Going to Dignify That With a Response look.

Dean pulled a face and closed his eyes again.

"What we hunting anyway?"

Sam didn't look up, "Not sure."

"Hm some use your are. Thought you were supposed to be psychic."

"You know I can't control it. The visions come and go. I can't just pull one out of my ass when it suits."

"Can you pull a hangover cure out of your ass?"

Sam continued to scan the journal, "Yeah, it's called 'don't drink too much in the first place,' "

Dean lifted his head and opened his eyes.

"That's cute; you know you should be a doctor. Or - or maybe an annoying as hell little brother who's sole purpose in life it is to make life hell for his older brother and generally piss him of and kick him when he's down. Oh- oh wait minute you already are!" Dean instantly regretted raising his voice when his head complained forcing him to rest it back on to the table.

"Actually Dean, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself."

"My head hurts."

"Well you got as long as it takes us to reach Minnesota to get it together. Rick's a good friend and we're not gonna let him down."

Dean opened his eyes briefly to answer his brother:

"Friend huh? You haven't seen him since you were an angsty, whiny little teenager. As opposed to the angsty, whiny all grown up little bitch that you are now."

Sam ignored the insult, "Come on, get up we're going. We'll get breakfast on the way." he stood to gather up their belongings and when Dean failed to move himself called back annoyed:

"Dean! Move your sorry ass."

Dean pulled a face mimicking his little brother under his breath before reluctantly pushing himself up off the table and began irritably stuffing the few items he had unpacked into his bag.

Sam was glad to be back on the road. His brother's drinking was becoming a worry and he hoped that a hunt might be just what they both needed. The long drive to their destination wasn't a cause for concern to him as he knew Dean would sleep most of the way, meaning he could put the radio on and not suffer his brother's obnoxious taste in what he liked to call music. Personally he preferred a sound that didn't make him want to reach into his own head and remove his brain but it was rare he was given a choice. The inoffensive sounds from the radio and his brother snoring softly were enough to ease his worries and concerns and for the first time in weeks he actually felt relaxed. The coming hunt was likely to be straight forward. He wasn't entirely sure what their prey was but he had his suspicions and if they were correct it would be a cakewalk.

It was a little known secret in the hunting world that Sam Winchester was a psychic. He hadn't yet mastered his abilities of course and they came and went seemingly without control or warning, causing the young hunter extreme pain and disorientation. He wasn't really sure why he had them; whether it was a recent addition to his genetic makeup or an ability which had lay dormant since birth was a mystery to him but it was something he tried not to think about. There was the odd occasion when he had tried to visualise something and possibly predict an outcome but so far he had been unsuccessful in maintaining any sort of will or control over the debilitating premonitions. It was for this reason that Sam Winchester was unable to predict the chain of events which the phone call from an old family friend had begun. It was for this reason that Sam Winchester had cheerfully begun a journey with his brother, blissfully unaware of the consequences that would soon arise. And it was for this reason that Sam Winchester was completely unaware that this apparently harmless decision would inevitably lead to an event that would finally push his brother over the edge.

To be continued

Sorry nothing much happening yet- but it will soon. Promise.