Anyway, it's a little longer chapter today to make up for the short update last time. Once again, thank you to all who reviewed! You guys rock. :-)
D.F.
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
Part 4: Searching for Cows
"You had a vision?" Sam gaped at his brother.
Dean pressed a water bottle against his forehead. "Yes, Sam." he said with exaggerated patience. "I had a vision."
He pulled the bottle away and directed his bloodshot gaze to Sam. "It sucked."
Sam nodded. "I know." He pulled a chair closer to the bed where the elder Winchester was lying. "What did you see?"
"Man, it was gross," Dean grimaced at the memory. "An entire field of cows bought it and it wasn't pretty."
"You had a vision about cows?"
"Yeah, well, we can't all be super-psychics, can we?"
"Did it tell you where it was happening?"
Dean nodded. "Yup. Exactly where. It was in a big field filled with black and white cows. Shouldn't be too hard to track down, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam took the answer as a negative. "We can check and see if there are any cattle mutilations reported in the area and go from there."
"I think you're missing the point here, geek-boy," Dean interrupted. "Visions are not my thing, so why am I having them?"
Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's hereditary. Maybe it isn't just me." He tried to look reassuring, but judging from Dean's expression, it wasn't successful.
"This super-power sucks."
Sam had to agree. "I guess we treat this like any other job and try to figure out where those cows are." He tossed the motel stationary to the older man. "You write down everything you can remember and I'll see what I can find online."
If Dean was bothered by his little brother taking charge, he kept it to himself.
It only took an hour or so of searching for Sam to concede that there was nothing on recent cattle mutilations in the immediate area. Even if something unusual had been happening, more likely than not the people involved would chalk it up to a brazen animal. Supernatural entities rarely made the suspect list.
The elder Winchester wasn't faring much better.
Dean frowned and tapped his pen on the pad of paper in front of him. He'd written down the specifics of his vision to the best of his recollection, but he wasn't getting anywhere with it.
Thinking while his brain was trying to pound its way out of his skull was also proving futile.
With a frustrated groan, Dean flung the pen at the wall.
Sam glanced up from the laptop. "Something wrong?"
"Oh, no. Nothing. Whatever gave you that idea?" Dean knew he was being an ass, he just didn't care.
"Actually, the flying pen was a good clue." Sam managed to keep his expression perfectly neutral. He wasn't going to take Dean's sarcastic comments anymore.
"Look - my head hurts, I'm so freakin' tired I could sleep for a week and I got to watch the battle scenes from Braveheart being re-enacted in full splat-o-vision with goddamned cows." Dean paused for breath. "I'm sorry if I'm slightly wound-up right now, okay?"
"Okay," Sam replied lightly. "I know it's hard, but we'll figure it out. Are you sure that you're remembering absolutely everything?"
Dean tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but in the end he gave in.
"I'm just saying that sometimes a lot happens in the visions and it may not seem important but it ends up being -"
"I get it, Sam," Dean interrupted. "Believe me, I get it. A river, a tree and a really old sign that I couldn't even read. It might have said 'Ben-' something, but I'm not sure. That's what I saw. Oh, yeah . . . and bloody cows."
"What colour was the sign?"
"Does that make a difference?"
"Dean -"
"It was green, okay?" Dean glanced at his notepad again. He'd drawn the sign as best he could, but his artistic abilities left quite a bit to be desired. "It was made from wood and it was painted green."
"Made from wood?" Sam's face took on the expression Dean always associated with 'research-boy.'
Any second now, Sam would come up with something mildly brilliant . . .
"Did it look like a farm sign or something?"
Okay . . . maybe not so brilliant.
"A farm sign?" Dean parroted.
"You know how some farmers make signs to put at the end of their lanes? Maybe our cows live on a farm called 'Ben'-something."
Dean smirked. "Great. That narrows the field down a lot. Somewhere in the country there's a farm with cows and it starts with 'Ben'."
Sam sighed. "I'm doing the best I can."
Suddenly and inexplicably, Dean felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. Damn, I'm getting soft.
Feeling the need to release his pent-up energy, Dean got up and started pacing. "These visions are supposed to tell us what we need to know to save the day, right?"
"I guess." Sam wasn't following.
"Well, I say, if the cows want our help, they're going to have to do better than that crappy-ass vision they just gave me."
"I don't think the cows gave you the vision, Dean."
"You know what I mean." Dean sat back down on the bed, sighing as his sore ribs pulled. "We need more to go on and we aren't going to find a specific farm when the vision could have been from anywhere."
"A partial name is better than nothing. We've found things with less," Sam reminded him.
With a sigh, the elder Winchester leaned back against the headboard. "Right."
Sam was soon fully immersed in his research leaving Dean alone with his thoughts. Noting that, at the moment anyway, his thoughts weren't that interesting, Dean let his mind drift.
Within minutes he was asleep.
Dean awoke to Sam not-so-gently shaking him.
"I think I found it," the younger Winchester announced, not bothering to make sure Dean was fully conscious.
"Where?" Dean sat up, instantly alert and more than ready to get this particular hunt finished.
"There's an old farm a couple hundred miles north of here called Bent Creek Farm. I looked them up and they have a large herd of Holstein cows. The entire area is surrounded by forests and I found a map showing the creek, which could be the one from your vision. I couldn't find a picture of the farm sign, but I did come across this."
He handed Dean the laptop. The page displayed showed a newspaper article from two years earlier. Dean quickly scanned the write-up for pertinent information, knowing that Sam would summarise anyway.
"Apparently there were quite a few cattle mutilations in the area two years ago. The farmers wanted compensation, but for a bunch of reasons it didn't work out. It actually ended up costing them a fortune when people began to worry about the quality of the meat and dairy products they were producing." Sam paused to shake his head. "As if being attacked by something means that the food quality is affected. In any case, everyone stopped buying from them for awhile. If it is happening again, it's quite possible that no one would report it this time." He glanced at Dean to gauge his brother's reaction.
Dean nodded. "They think it's an animal, so maybe the farmers are going to take matters into their own hands?"
With a nod, Sam reached over and closed the laptop. "They'd have no idea what they might be up against."
"Well, neither do we," Dean replied. "Something out there is nasty enough to warrant a vision. I say we smoke its ass and then figure out how to make sure I never have a vision again."
"You don't think it's a long-shot?" Sam questioned.
"It's the best lead we have so far. Even if it doesn't pan out, it'll get us out of this freakin' room." Dean grabbed his duffel bag and started ramming his clothes haphazardly into it. "I'm going to drop off our room key. Meet me at the car when you're ready."
He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, grabbed the duffel with their weapons and left the room.
Sam quickly packed his own bag and the laptop before heading to the door. They had no idea when the vision would come to pass, other than it happened in the daytime. They might already be too late.
As he reached for the doorknob, Sam felt something tickle his lip. Cursing, he wiped it away, knowing without looking that it was another nosebleed. He dropped his bag and headed for the bathroom. Maybe he could get cleaned up before Dean saw him.
Sam felt a wave of dizziness pass through him. He grabbed the doorframe with one hand to steady himself. All he had to do was make it to the bathroom before Dean showed -
"Yo, Sam! Let's get a move-on already!"
Sam's eyes were closed, but he could see the expression on Dean's face turn from mild irritation to confusion.
"What's going on?"
"I hab a nosebleed," Sam muttered morosely, the blood making him sound congested.
"Ewww," Dean grimaced, grabbing a handful of tissues off the desk. "Put these under it."
Sam took the tissues and let himself slide to the floor to sit with his back against the wall.
"That's what - second, third one today?" Dean asked lightly.
Sam shrugged. He hadn't told Dean about his earlier nosebleed, but he wasn't really surprised that his brother had figured it out.
"I think I know what's going on," Dean stated lightly. "I had a vision. I had a nightmare. Both of those are your gig. You've been doing the bleeding thing, which is kind of new for you. This all started the same day we both got taken out by a glow-demon that sucks stuff out of people's heads." He raised an eyebrow. "Just a little weird is all I'm saying."
The younger Winchester cracked open an eye. "Where are you going with this?"
"I think I have your Shining."
Sam opened both eyes to fix an incredulous gaze on his brother. "Are you joking?"
Dean shrugged. "It seems to fit."
Sam had to admit that the elder Winchester had a point.
"That would explain your vision." Sam pondered the idea, not liking where Dean's reasoning was leading. "Like you said, it can't be a coincidence that we encountered that creature just before this happened."
"We were out of it for a long time. That isn't exactly normal."
"If you're right, what do we do?"
"Nothing," Dean replied. "We move on."
"Move on?" Sam sat up, pulling the tissues away from his face. "Dean, you're having visions!"
"Yup, and you're not. Deal with it." Dean stood up and moved to retrieve Sam's discarded bag. "And you'd better stop with the nosebleeds if you think for one second that you're getting into my car. On second thought, after this job, you're going to a doctor to see what they can do about the nosebleeds and then we'll move on. I don't need my side-kick to become Spontaneous-Bleeding Boy."
"You can't just keep them!" Sam protested, ignoring Dean's attempt to change the subject. "I can tell you right now, they aren't fun and games, Dean!"
"Try and take 'em back," Dean smirked.
"A minute ago you didn't want them," Sam pointed out in frustration.
"A minute ago I thought we both had them." Dean leaned back down to face his brother. "Look, I know visions suck, but now they're my problem."
Realisation dawned on Sam. "You think you're protecting me! What, you think if I don't have the visions that bad things will stop happening to me? If the Demon really is after me he's just going to stop?"
A slight look of embarrassment crossed Dean's face. "All I'm saying is that I got sick of scraping you off the floor every time Max went on his little killer rampages. Now I won't have to."
"Now I get to scrape you off the ground. That's way better," Sam couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"That's the spirit," Dean grinned. "Your nose stopped bleeding. Go get cleaned up and we can leave."
Sam only stared, not willing to stop being angry at Dean just yet.
"Come on!" Dean reached out a hand to pull Sam to his feet. "We have a cow-killer to find"
Sam ignored the proffered hand and used the wall to lever himself up. Without another word, he headed to the bathroom.
Dean let out a shaky breath as the bathroom door clicked shut behind Sam. He tossed his brother's bag onto the bed. God, the kid could be frustrating as hell. Sam was right, of course. Their experience with Max had certainly raised warning bells in Dean's mind. The fact that there were two kids whose mothers had been killed by the Demon and both had psychic abilities was alarming.
It was almost certain now that the Demon had something in the works. Sam's newfound abilities had led them straight to another kid like him and Dean was far past the point of believing in coincidence.
If having the visions, which really did suck, would foil whatever plans the Demon had, then so be it. Dean was tough. He could take it. He would take it.
"I can take it without getting that stupid kicked-puppy look, too," he muttered.
He looked up at the bathroom door opened. Sam, now cleaned of blood, retrieved his bag from the bed before starting toward the door.
"So that's how we're gonna play it, huh?" Dean called after him. "You aren't going to talk to me? Real mature, Sammy!"
Sam poked his head back into the room. "What do you want me to say? It's better that you have to deal with them? It's not. Let's just go."
"Fine," Dean shot back. God, the things he put up with. He was so unappreciated.
He left the room and turned to grab the door handle, fully intending to give it a satisfying slam. Before he could grab it, the door slammed shut with enough force to crack the frame.
Dean stood with his hand still poised to grab the door. He glanced behind him to see if Sam had seen anything before turning back to the door with an appraising eye.
He cleared his throat as the realisation of what he'd just done hit him. "Oh, shit."
"Are you coming?" Sam called from the car.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a bunch." Dean gave the door one last withering glance before heading to the car.
Telekinesis.
Perfect.
How the hell was Dean going to broach that topic?
"Something wrong?" Sam peered at the elder Winchester as he got into the car.
"Nope," Dean replied. Sometimes avoidance of the issue really was the best way to deal with it. In any case, they could worry about his newfound freak-status later. Right now, they had a farm to find.
