Run Through The Jungle
Whoa, thought it was a nightmare
Lord it was so true
They told me don't go walking slow
The devil's on the loose
– Creedence Clearwater Revival

A blur of emotion: varying flavors of fear; a sense of claustrophobia, of walls closing in and no way out; the overweening urge to run, run anywhere. Devi felt her chest constrict almost painfully, her breathing quicken and shallow.

"It's a dream," she heard someone mutter, felt the words coming from her mouth. "It's just a dream."

A low growl sounded, rising in volume and pitch until it resembled the shrieking of a gale through tight spaces, like the wailing of some tortured soul in a desolate place. It crescendoed in a shattering of glass, followed by a brief, eerie silence.

"Kevin Tran," a gravelly voice sighed gratifiedly, "It's been a while. Thought you could elude me forever?"

Devi caught the image of Crowley, standing casually in a long metal room lit by candles.

"There's always a way," he continued with a self-satisfied air. "If you can't find one Tran, find another. Your mom – she didn't want to give you up."

Devi felt her chest tighten again, along with a surge of horror.

"Quite a pain threshold, that one," Crowley continued soberly, "but even she could only take so much."

"She never would have told you," Kevin's voice denied.

"Moms are like that, aren't they?" Crowley admitted, taking a step forward to lean against a table. "So we killed her, and got your address off her smart-phone."

"No!" Kevin's cried, a stab of pain running through him at Crowley's words.

"What you people never seem to understand," Crowley snarled, "is that you are nothing!" His voice went soft, almost caressing, "Fleeting blips of light..." His eyes turned to stone, "I. Am. Forever."

Pain, indescribable agony flooding every sense, Kevin's rising scream piercing the night, and Devi sat bolt upright in bed. Moonlight through the window illuminated the tiny motel room. The red letters of the alarm clock read "2:34." As Devi fought to still her breathing, to think over the pounding of blood rushing through her ears, she clutched the worn coverlet, twisting the material in her fists as she tried to ground herself. It had been a long time since she had had a vision so intense.

She knew it had been no mere dream.

What am I doing here? Devi wondered to herself. She had gone to the safe house – boat, rather – and found it empty. Not just empty, but antiseptically clean.

She had fallen into Kevin's mind a few more times before the last encounter. Typically, she just "sat" quietly in his mind while he worked. It had been a good way to practice mental stillness, since she didn't want her stray thoughts wandering across his mind, which seemed more frayed with each 'visit.' This last time, however, he'd been so steeped in anxiety that he hadn't even realized she was there.

She had called Sam and Dean as soon as she'd woken up, but had only gotten their voice-mails. A day later, Dean had dropped her a hurried text claiming that Kevin had cut and run after becoming so stressed that he started having visions of Crowley. "Visions," my ass, Devi frowned, looking at the room.

There wasn't a single scrap of information relating to the tablet anywhere. That slab of stone had been Kevin's whole world for months, and like her, he found writing things down one of the most effective means to organize his thoughts. When she had seen through him, the interior hull had been practically papered with his notes, and it seemed almost impossible that he would have taken every piece, especially if he was fleeing in a panic like Dean suggested.

Something was wrong. Hell, everything was wrong. The Trials were Kevin's ticket back to a normal life, away from hundreds of horrible things trying to kill him. He wouldn't just give them up, not with only one left to go. Leaving the safe house was one thing, but he would have had to keep contact with the Winchesters to tell them what was next.

After a moment's consideration, she inspected the tiny galley – everything had been wiped down, and the few plates there were had been neatly placed in the drying rack. Devi opened the mini-fridge.

That tears it, she thought, slamming it shut. He may have taken the food with him if he went on the run, but no-one takes the time to actually clean the fridge with the King of Hell on his heels.

Her first inclination was to plant herself at a crossroads, jump the first crossroads demon that showed up, and interrogate the literal hell out of it.

Wait.

Devi paused, unsure. The instruction hadn't been spoken out loud, but it made such a strong impression that she actually glanced around the room to see if someone was there.

Wait.

There it was again. Devi was starting to rethink Dean's "visions" theory. Maybe there was something about the boat that made people hear voices. She tried to think of where she had heard the voice before, but she couldn't place it. Without quite knowing why, she found herself moving back to the center of the room.

If Crowley had taken the Prophet, where would he go next? She snorted in frustration – they could be anywhere in the world, and if Crowley had any sense, he'd move Kevin and the tablet at least a continent away from the Winchesters. She ran her hand over the work table, thinking about how many hours Kevin must have logged there.

They are close.

Devi's head snapped up. Any idea that these intrusive thoughts might have been errant bits of internal monologue was instantly jettisoned. After a moment's hesitation, she decided that engaging these intrusions was the best course of action, since ignoring them had proved fruitless.

What do you mean? How close? she thought intentionally.

No further words came, but Devi found herself once more drawn to the table. She circled behind the steel slab, standing where Kevin had sat, and rested both palms on the cool, metal surface. It quickly took the heat from her hands.

What am I supposed to do, she fumed, close my eyes and use the Force?

In spite of her doubts, she found her eyelids drooping as she leaned over Kevin's work area. Sam and Dean had told her about souls leaving echos of themselves behind after trauma; usually, those echos were ghosts, remnants of tragic death, but could something similar be left behind without a death? She felt a tingling in her palms, like the pull of static electricity just before discharge. Her eyes fluttered shut...

*"Fleeting blips of light... I. Am. Forever."*

Devi jerked her hands away from the table with a start. The memory of her vision – if it was a memory – had been as clear as when she'd first seen it. No, it had been clearer, and she had seen it as an outsider, rather than through Kevin.

You must pass through what happened here.

"No!" Devi spoke to the empty ship. She had nearly been sick upon waking from the vision the first time, and she hadn't even seen the end of the encounter. The last thing she wanted to do was walk through that horror again.

You must, if you are to find where they went.

Devi swallowed, let out a slow breath, and rested her hands on the table again.

*"I. Am. Forever."
Kevin's scream piercing the night, rising, then suddenly cut off. Devi saw him gasping at Crowley's feet, barely clinging to consciousness. The King of Hell crouched over his victim, his dark coat hanging around him like the wings of a carrion bird. He considered Kevin's shaking form for a moment, then touched two fingers to the Prophet's forehead. Kevin's eyes fluttered closed, and his breathing became less labored. Crowley rose, looking out the shattered windows pensively, before snapping his fingers. The glass was suddenly back, intact, and missing the large red symbols Kevin had been drawing on them. Crowley snapped again, and every scrap of paper in the room vanished, along with the numerous candles. He looked down at Kevin, a slow smile twisting his mouth, and snapped once more. He and Kevin disappeared from the room, or rather, the room disappeared from them, as if they were the only things holding still, and the world moved on without them. As the room passed from around them, there was a line of fire surrounding them, leading from where they had been previously standing. Devi followed it. The inside of the boat melted away, the harbor passed in a blur, then the city, then long stretches of open land. They slowed, and another, bigger city grew up around them. The world stopped turning under their feet, and an old adobe building rose in front of them. A large, burnt-out neon sign on the front read "Rio Theatre."*

Devi's eyes snapped open, and she gripped the edge of the table against a rush of vertigo. I wonder if there's treatment for psychic whiplash, she thought, clutching her forehead. She straightened, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair.

As she mulled over what she had seen, details that she'd missed initially rose to mind: street signs, a placard directing visitors to "Union Station," a metal plate in the pavement declaring the line between Missouri and Kansas. Devi snapped her own fingers in realization – Crowley had Kevin in Kansas City, or thereabouts. The unrivaled arrogance of having the Prophet so close to where he went missing surprised her, but then Crowley had every reason to be confident no-one could trace him. As far as the King of Hell knew, only the Winchesters and their hunter friend had even known where Kevin was, still less that he was missing.

Should be easy enough to Google the theater, then a few hours drive... Her planning was interrupted again by the foreign thoughts.

There is something you must do first.