Chapter 12
"I'm going to kill you," Dean announced as Sam burst into the motel room. He was lying on his bed, looking irritable. "You run off like that again, and something happens to you, I'm not coming to save your ass. Again," he added with a pointed glare.
"Will you stop saying that?" Sam asked, his temper flaring. "I'm about to save your ass, so just shut up and listen, for once."
Dean sat up, obviously not in the best of moods either. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked angrily. "Honestly, man, you're so tense lately – I mean, I know you're still worried about Ava or whatever, but come on – acting like –"
"I'm not tense over Ava," Sam retorted, even as his stiffening body betrayed his true feelings. "Look, I just talked to Cecilia, and –"
"What?" Dean's angry look faded a bit as he took this news in. "Are you serious? What'd you do, go back to her apartment?"
"No, I didn't," Sam cut in quickly, before Dean could get any farther. "She just sort of turned up and –"
" 'Turned up'?" Dean repeated. "What, is she stalking you or something?"
"No," Sam said impatiently. "No, Dean – I think she's stalking you."
Dean stared at him. "Me?" he asked. "What the hell are you on, Sam? You're the one she kissed for no apparent reason, not me. Why would she be stalking me?"
Sam took a deep, nervous breath. "Remember how Ava…how she was dreaming about…"
"Your death?" Dean gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I remember." His eyes widened. "Oh, God. Not again…"
"No," Sam replied. "Not again." He paused. "This time it's you."
Dean stared at him, his gaze fixed on Sam's face. Then, he said, "Can't we go three months without one of us ending up in some sort of life-threatening situation?"
"Dean, we're hunters," Sam reminded him. "We're always in a life-threatening situation."
"You know what I meant," Dean snapped. He didn't seem overly worried about Sam's announcement that he was going to die.
"That's why she was so persistent about not going back to the MacDowell house," Sam continued, deciding to ignore Dean's attitude. "She must have foreseen it – you…" He couldn't finish the sentence.
"So, is she…like you?" Dean asked, not sure what to call him. "Like you and Max and Andy and…" Dean stopped. He had seen the dark look flit across Sam's face when he was forced to mention Ava's name earlier, and he wasn't eager to see it again. Nor was he eager to refer to his younger brother and the other psychics like him as "demon children."
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I realized what she was trying to tell me and took off to come here. She didn't get to tell me much."
"Smooth move, Ex-Lax," Dean said sarcastically. "So, in other words, you don't really know anything."
Instead of looking sheepish, a defiant look came onto Sam's face. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't run off to waste Lucy's spirit yourself," he told Dean.
The older Winchester was indignant. "Why the hell would I do that?"
"Well, you have been known to be pretty impatient when it comes to killing evil," Sam retorted.
"When have I ever done that?" Dean demanded.
"How about in St. Louis?" Sam shot back. "You didn't wait for me to kill the shapeshifter; you went right down into the sewers."
"And found Rebecca down there," Dean replied angrily. "If I hadn't done that, you'd be dead, you idiot."
Sam's head snapped up. He looked furious. "Well, next time don't come to save me, if it's such a pain in the ass," he said angrily. "I'm going to sleep." He stormed over to his bed in the motel room. Dean didn't answer.
She was standing at the foot of his bed. "Sam."
He slowly turned and looked up at the sound of her voice. He felt his eyes widen and a sudden cold feeling spread over his entire body.
"Come one," she said with her sweet, sad smile. She held out her hand for him to take. "I'll show you the truth."
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