A shrill whistle reverberates over the training fields. Kids stop in their tracks and run back to their teacher, some cheering.
"Alright! Good job, boys and girls! Red team wins!", the teacher which they surround claps in her hands as the children gather.
They all sit down in a circle on the grass as they always do after practice and look up to their teacher, waiting for her to give the cue to head off to the dressing rooms. The sun shines brightly and stands high in the sky, burning down on them. The American flag flutters from the frontage of a school building.
"Looking forward to summer break, kids?", the teacher asks, resting her hands on her knees as she leans down to level with her class.
Her question is answered with loud enthusiastic cheering, she laughs.
"Aren't you even going to miss me?", she pouts.
"We'll miss you, Mrs. Dawlson", one of the little boys speaks up.
More kids agree with him and their teacher smiles.
"I'm sure you will do fine at Oak Grove, Roy. You're all going to middle school! Fifth graders already, my boys and girls are getting all grown up", she observes her class, obviously proud of the kids.
"I tell you what. Next Friday we are going to play lots of fun games, alright?", she suggests.
The faces of the children light up and they happily smile at each other. Then she lets them off the hook.
"Off you go, be safe", she greets.
All get up and run for the dressing rooms, challenging each other to get there first. Some scream and laugh as they play tag along the way. All but one. The joy disappears from Mrs. Dawlson's face as she watches on of the girls who slowly strolls back to school. Despite the warm weather, she's wearing a long sleeve shirt and blue sweatpants. Every one can see this girl is unhappy. Mrs. Dawlson sighs, then she calls the girl back.
"Laura?"
The little girl looks over her shoulder with a sad look upon her face. She carries her long brown hair in two brads, her bangs cover her eyes.
"Could you come here for a second?", her teacher asks gently.
Laura walks back with her head hanging down, like a dog who did something bad and is now called in by its boss to pay the punishment. Mrs. Dawlson kneels down to level with the little Laura, not wanting to talk down on her. But Laura doesn't look her in the eye and keeps staring down at her feet.
"How are you doing, Laura?", her teacher questions with calm voice.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Dawlson", she answers politely.
The coach hesitates for a moment if she should force an answer out of her, but decides not to.
"Well al right, but if there is anything you want to talk about, let me know, okay?"
The young girl looks up and Mrs. Dawlson seems startled by the sadness in her eyes, but it's not just because of that expression. She can see a dark bruise through her bangs, right above her eyebrow. With her fingers she carefully sweeps away her hair and reveals the injury underneath. Laura backs out scared and turns her head away. Quickly, but without hurting her, Mrs. Dawlson grabs Laura's wrist and pulls up her sleeve. What she sees then, makes her stomach turn. Laura's entire arm is bruised and battered.
"How did you get these?", Laura's teacher asks gently, but a bit firmer than before.
"I fell", she makes up fast.
"Tell the truth, Laura. Who did this to you?It's alright", Mrs. Dawlson tries comforting.
"No one, please don't tell anyone", the little ten year old begs as she pulls herself loose.
"It's safe with me", her teacher assures.
"No, I can't", Laura stammers.
By this time she's crying. Big tears stream down her cute little face. It seems like she is going to cave in, but suddenly she turns around and runs for it. Mrs. Dawlson lets her go and straightens her back. With a sigh she places her hands in her waist and watches her student leave the field. Disapproving she shakes her head and closes her eyes.
"Poor girl…", she whispers to herself.
It's still early morning when Sam pulls over at 2310 West Kingshighway and enters the parking lot of the Ramada Inn. He left Zoë still asleep, apparently she really needed her rest. Last night he wondered what was going on in that head of hers, what she's been through, as he went through the Wiki she had developed as a hunter over the years. He could tell from the file properties that she didn't just accidently stumbled on a ghost and got curious. Something happened, something bad. The first file was added about five years ago, containing information on the Diligo Vesco demon, which possessed her round that time. As Sam gets out of his brother's car, he can't help but wonder why Zoë ended up in the hunting fields. On his way over to Paragould he discussed it with Dean, who apparently shares that thought. Why didn't she move on like all the other innocents who have a one time supernatural encounter? Why did she leave her family? Dean doesn't get why he even gives a damn, he said it's non of their business and if Zoë doesn't wanna share, then why dig further? Maybe so, he needs to get her out of his head. While rummaging around in his pocket, he enters the hotel lobby and makes a left turn to the main corridor. The red carpet underneath his feet is stained and the wallpaper doesn't seem much cleaner, but the beds are good and the sheets are clean, that's all what really matters to them. He did notice the room didn't have air conditioning and with these temperatures that can be problematic. Then again, he has a feeling that not even a freezer could have cooled down the two lovebirds inside of room 106. Just as he takes out his room key, he sees that he won't need them; Dean is already at the door with Denise.
"Call me", she tells him as she saves her number in his phone.
"I sure will", Dean grins.
They kiss once more. Both can barely keep their eyes of each other as Denise walks away in last nights clothes with a happy smile on her face. Sam passes her in the hallway and looks over his shoulder. He can see where Dean's coming from; she's beautiful.
"Forget it, tiger. She's mine", Dean has spotted the look upon his brother's face.
Sam laughs and shakes his head.
"Had a good night?", he asks carefully, hoping he will skip the details.
"Did I have a good night? We didn't stop till 5 AM", Dean yawns and walks back into the room.
"I don't wanna know", Sam cuts off before he spills the goods.
He follows Dean into the room, finding one bed untouched and the other completely messed up. An empty bottle of Sauvignon lays on the ground while a dirty glass still stands on the cabinet next to a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. The window is wide open and the heavy curtains who keep out the sun during the hot summer days now wave in the wind slightly. Seems like they had one hell of a party.
"Grab your stuff", Sam says.
Dean looks aside surprised, since when is Sam the one who gives the orders? He doesn't respond to that though, but to the fact that he doesn't have stuff.
"What stuff? Zoë has it all", he brings to mind.
"Not anymore, it's in the car", Sam informs.
"Ah, so you found her", Dean raises his eyebrows and grins at his brother.
Sam huffs and rolls his eyes, but his older brother doesn't pay attention to it, as he's rummaging through the empty bags which once contained potato crisps. Apparently he's hungry.
"Nothing happened, Dean", Sam states with a tone.
"Oh come on, not even a little kiss?", he teases, but Sam denies.
"A look then? You know, one of those cheesy Titanic moments".
But again Dean's brother shakes his head, although he can't resist to comment on that.
"You saw Titanic?", Sam chuckles.
"Well, no… So I've heard", he corrects uncomfortably and turns the conversation back around. "But let me get this straight, absolutely nothing happened?"
"That's what I said", Sam confirms.
Dean stops searching for food. Crap, there's nothing left. Then he turns to Sam, who seems annoyed by the interrogation. The eldest sighs with a laugh.
"You're such a loser, Sammy", he chuckles.
"That's it, I've had it", Sam straightens his back and stares at Dean furiously, who is a little surprised to see the expression on his brother's face.
Sam is pissed, but Dean can hide his victorious grin. For weeks he has tried to get Sam over the edge, to trigger him to let it all out. Finally he has him where he wants him.
"Did it ever occur to you that I might feel bad about myself if I just head off with some girl for a one night stand like you always do?", Sam shouts.
Ouch. Dean frowns, it is kind of true, but he doesn't let Sam get to him.
"I have no idea, Sam. You never talk to me about it, so how the hell am I suppose to know how you feel?", he bounces back.
"And you think that's strange? She was my girlfriend, Dean! I was going to ask her to marry me for God's sake!", he pauses and he gets madder. "I had everything planned out, law school, Jess, everything!"
He starts to pace through the room, restless and upset.
"It doesn't always work out as we want to, Sam. You should know that", his brother brings to mind.
"I LOVE her, Dean! I still do and I can't get her out of my mind. She died because of me!", Sam halts in front of Dean and raises his voice even more.
"Don't do that to yourself, man. It's not your fault she's dead", Dean tries, but it's not something Sam can forget easily.
"It is, Dean. I didn't warn her about the danger out there. I lied to her…"
Sam intends to ramble on, but Dean intervenes so that he can respond on that first notification.
"What makes you think that telling her the truth would have made a difference? It was an ugly ass demon that killed her, Sam! Not just some ghost. Listen to me", he grabs both Sam's shoulders and forces him to look down his eyes. "That same thing killed mom and probably a whole lot of other people. This demon is powerful and if Dad has trouble stopping it, you wouldn't have stood a change".
"I'm not talking about stopping him at that moment, Dean", Sam pulls himself loose and turns away.
An unpleasant silence fills the room as Dean waits for a follow up, but Sam doesn't continue.
"What then, Sam? Talk to me", he asks, almost begging him.
Again that silence. The youngest of the two Winchesters doesn't move and stares at the wall with his hands placed on his waistband. He swallows apprehensively, maybe he should just be honest with him. He sighs and turns around, Dean can see his eyes glister.
"I could have prevented it", Sam claims.
Dean observes him, thinking through his next question first before he throws it in. He has a feeling there's more to this than just guilt.
"How?", Dean asks with a tone.
Sam bites his lip, but doesn't look at him. Then, after a month of silence, Sam finally opens up to his brother.
"I dreamed of Jessica's death, days before it happened".
Complete silence. Dean stares at his brother as if he's seeing a ghost, not sure how to react to this. He opens his mouth in order to respond, but can't find the words he's looking for.
"You mean, as in… a vision or something?", he asks disbelieving, laughing nervously.
Sam sighs, he knew he would respond like this. Everything he has a hunch, Dean comments on it like he's some kind of freaky medium.
"Never mind…", Sam gives in and walks to the back of the room.
"Wait. You're telling me that you actually saw Jess die like she did, in a dream?", Dean recalls.
His younger brother halts and eventually nods his head.
"I didn't thought anything of it at first. I figured it was just a bad dream. Until…", he's unable to finish his sentence.
Dean says nothing, he just stares at Sam. Several issues storm through his head. What the hell is going on with him? Why didn't Sam tell him this before? He is stunned and a bit overwhelmed by the idea, but his own brother might actually be something a hunter would keep a close eye on.
"You're looking at me as if you're about to sprinkle holy water on me", Sam notifies.
For a moment Dean glares at the flask on the table; he might just do that.
"Dude, you're seriously considering?", Sam cries out.
"You wanna tell me that this is normal, Sam?", Dean bounces back.
Sam rolls his eyes and turns around, he already regrets that he brought it up.
"Why didn't you tell me before?", the eldest of the two likes to know.
"I don't know…", Sam stares at the ground.
"You don't know? You're psychic, right?", Dean huffs.
The youngest of the Winchester boys grinds his teeth, but doesn't say a word. The tension between the two of them feels awkward yet familiar; it feels the same as the arguments they use to have before Sam took off for college. Back then he left after a huge fight with their father. Sam was so sick of their lives as traveling hunters. Never a stable life, always in fear if they would make it through the day. He and Dean were raised as soldiers, while all Sam wanted was to be normal. So he went to Stanford University to get his law degree, but as it turns out, not even he can run from the supernatural.
"Anything else I should know, Sam?", Dean pressures.
"Like what?", Sam returns annoyed.
"I don't know, maybe you can stop bullets or do that cool laser eye thingy", the eldest brings to mind sarcastically.
"Very funny", Sam glares at him.
"It would explain a lot of things. The 'S' stands for Sam and there's your love for tight leggings", Dean nags.
"Stop it", Sam sighs, but Dean doesn't even think about giving up just yet.
"Can you fly? 'Cause that would be awesome", he grins.
"Dean!", Sam warns mad.
"What? Either I joke about it or become outrageous, I think this is your best option. Trust me, you don't wanna see me furious right now, Sam!", Dean returns.
"One way or the other, it doesn't help!", the youngest cries our pissed off.
"Well excuse me for trying to see the fun side of your Allison Dubois turning", Dean gestures at him, not amused at all actually.
"You see? This is exactly why I didn't tell you, Dean! I knew you would give me this kind of response!", Sam snipes.
"What did you expect? You keep something like this from me for over a month", Dean forces him to realize.
"I don't have to tell you everything I go through, I don't owe you that", Sam makes clear with lowered voice.
"And there you're wrong", Dean turns to him, pointing his finger at him as he approaches his brother. "I am your brother. So yes, you owe me that".
Dean stares straight into Sam's eyes, his head tilted slightly backwards to look his younger yet taller brother in the face. Sam can see his words hurt him.
"We use to tell each other everything, Sammy. What happened to that?", Dean questions.
"It left, along with me", Sam breaks eye contact and walks past him.
"I know you're pretty damn good at it, but don't you walk away from me!", the oldest of the two warns.
"Or what?", Sam tests, not impressed by Dean's stern words.
"This is not something you can walk away from, Sam. When will that finally come to you? When you're in, you're in. There's no way back when you know about what lays in the shadow, especially not when you have visions about it", Dean brings to mind.
"So what, you're planning to hunt till you're in a wheelchair?", Sam huffs.
"No, I plan to finish the job Dad left for us to do and kill as many sons of bitches as I possibly can. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. I intend to prevent that people go through the same drama we've been through and if I don't succeed…", he pauses as his eyes penetrate Sam's. "I'll die tryin'".
This time he finally shuts Sam up. No stubborn behavior, no smart answer, just silence. Sam isn't sure what to say to that. He has to admit, he respects Dean for his point of view.
"Why should we be the one to sacrifice everything?", Sam questions, less hostile than before.
"I don't know, Sam", Dean sighs. "It's just the way it is. So we either feel sorry for ourselves, or we deal with it".
Deep inside Sam knows he's right. He can never have the life he wishes to live. There will always be more to hunt, this is a never ending story. And even if he does turn his back on the business for good, will he be able to forget about Jessica's death? Can he move on without scanning every street, expecting something out of the ordinary around every corner? Dean's right, he can't. Right now, actually getting his law degree seems almost impossible, but then again, maybe he was being naïve when he went to Stanford in the first place.
"Shall we go?", Sam suggests.
Dean looks up as the peace seems to have returned. He decides he had enough arguments for one morning and lets it go. He got Sam to talk to him, one step at a time.
"Can't we stay one more night?", Dean tries carefully.
Sam frowns, but then understands his reason for hesitation.
"Denise", he chuckles.
"She's something, huh?", Dean's typical grin appears on his face again.
Sam nods, she is.
"Hey listen, man. I'm not pushing you to hook up with some chick just to nag you or anything. You need to move on at some point and I just figured a girl might help with that", Dean lets him know. "You can talk to me about it if you want to, I'll try to be serious".
Sam glares at his brother for a little while with a 'yeah right' on his face. After a moment of who-gives-up-glaring-first, Dean caves.
"Alright, I wanted to piss you off so that you would get it out of your system", he admits.
Sam smiles, he knew it. He's not mad at him for playing it this way though, Dean means well.
"I guess I owe you thanks then?', Sam says.
"Not really, but I'm serious. Talk to me when something's up", Dean underlines.
Sam answers with a nod of the head, then he goes for the door, apparently intending to leave.
"Ah, come on. One night", Dean begs.
"There's something ripping out hearts down in Texas, described by locals as 'possibly a bear'", Sam offers.
Dean rubs his unshaved chin and thinks it over.
"Cool werewolf hunt or hot sex? Tough one", he ponders.
Sam can't help but to smile and waits for the final call.
"Alright", Dean sighs. "Do you need to change in a phone booth before we go?"
Sam glares at him once more, but Dean keeps a straight face.
"No?", he checks teasing.
Sam's looks says enough and Dean lets out a smirk. Sam huffs with a laugh. It's official; Dean is a hopeless case. He feels his pockets for his phone and his facial expression changes. Unpleasantly surprised he looks around.
"Lost something?", Dean questions.
"I think I left my Blackberry at Zo's", Sam realizes.
"Naturally", Dean fails to believe he left it there accidental.
"Would you quit it already?", Sam cries out.
"Okay, I'll stop", Dean promises grinning. "We need to score some food anyway, I'm hungry as hell".
He puts on his leather coat and pressures his hand on his stomach, which makes complaining sounds.
"There's a McDonald's next to Zoë's motel", Sam mentions as he holds the door for his brother.
"Big Mac it is", Dean's eyes light up, imagining the food on a plait in front of him already. "Or a Quarterpounder and I hear that McBacon is really good too…", he rambles.
Sam laughs as Dean picks up a small duffel containing only the few things they carry around at the moment. He follows Sam outside who locks the door behind them. A quick bite before they leave another town and move on to the next one. They never stay long, but the last two stops have been extremely short. Dean likes Denise, yet he has never been the guy who sticks around long enough to be thinking of a relationship. To be honest, a wolf hunt already sounds more fun than doing the girl he already did last night. After that shapeshifter drama, he's up for something exiting as their next case. Dean is sure of it; Texas, here they come.
