Thank you so much Jenjoremy for the fab beta job and Gredelina1 for all your help and support.
UnicornSPNPotato started my day in the best way with a very kind PM and now I am feeling positive and gererous. Enjoy your early update xxx
Chapter Twenty
The flight to San Francisco was mostly a blur for John. He queued restlessly at security and sat forward in his seat throughout the flight, as if that would get him there faster. He only felt even a hint of relief when he was brushing through the people at arrivals and getting out of the airport. He headed for the nearest cab and jumped in ahead of a young couple that were dragging their suitcases over to it. He heard their angry protest as he slid in and shut the door.
"Where you going?" the driver, a young man with shaggy hair, asked.
"Palo Alto," John said. "725 Alma Street."
He nodded and pulled away from the curb. "Sure thing."
John had considered calling Dean to collect him, knowing a cab was going to clear him out of cash, but he didn't want to take Dean from his brother. He knew it would take longer, too, if he had to wait for Dean, and the compulsion to get to Sam was strong.
When they got onto the highway, he took out his phone and dialed Dean's number.
He answered with a question. "Have you stopped it?"
"No," John said. "Something happened. I'm on my way to you now."
"What? Wait." There were sounds of footsteps and Dean hissed, "Where are you?"
"I just left the airport," John said.
"What the hell, Dad! You were supposed to protect Andy!"
"I'm protecting who I'm supposed to," John said immovably, the force of his certainty and the compulsion strong in his voice. "I'll tell you about it when I get there."
"Fine," Dean said irritably. "Sam's not going to be happy though."
John felt a pang of regret that he was going to upset his son, but the need to get to him was stronger than his need to please him. "I know."
"I'll see you when you get here, then," Dean said and ended the call without a goodbye.
John knew he had disappointed both his sons in coming here, but it wasn't by choice. He had been compelled by both Andy and his own need to come; there was no fighting it.
He stared out of the window and watched the streetlights whip past the window. Thankfully, the driver seemed to know that he wasn't in the mood to talk, and so left him to his thoughts.
When they passed into the streets of Palo Alto, he sat up straight in his seat and waited impatiently to see the familiar outline of Sam's street.
Only when the cab stopped outside Sam's apartment building did he feel the weight on his chest that been there since he left Guthrie disappear and the clouded feeling of his thoughts vanish. He felt like he was waking up. He had done what Andy had commanded, he had come, and now his will was his own again.
He paid the fare with almost all that was left of his cash and climbed out. He looked up at the window of Sam's apartment and saw a light in the kitchen. Relieved they were still awake, despite the late hour, he walked inside and up the stairs. He knocked softly, not wanting to disturb Sam if he was resting, and waited. He heard footsteps approaching and Dean opened the door with a look of annoyance. He stepped back and John entered.
When Dean had closed the door behind him, John asked in a whisper. "How's he doing?"
"Not well," Dean said curtly. "I haven't told him you're coming. Didn't see the point in making him pissed as well as scared until he had to be."
He brushed past him and walked back into the living room. John followed and saw Sam and Jessica sitting on the couch. Sam was bowed over and Jessica was sitting with her hand on his neck speaking soft words of encouragement and comfort.
As John stood, frozen into inaction by the shock that he was having yet another vision, Dean walked past and sat on edge of the armchair and picked up a notepad and pen. As Sam drew a heaving breath and sat up, Dean leaned forward and asked in a soft voice. "What did you see?"
"It was a new one," Sam said hoarsely. "Woman. She's sitting in a hair salon. There are people around her, but she's the one I could see clearest. She's looking at a bridal magazine and smiling." He paused, bringing his hand to his head and digging his fingers into his temples. "She's wearing a ring. Yes, I think she's engaged."
"What does she look like?"
"Brown hair about down to her shoulders, blue eyes. She's pretty."
"Anything else?"
Sam shook his head. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Dean said. "You're doing awesome. We're getting more each time."
"How many have you had?" John asked.
Sam spun to look at him and John sucked in a breath. He looked terrible. His eyes were red rimmed and there were grey shadows beneath them. His skin was pale but for feverish spots of high color on his cheeks.
"Dad! What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I had to come," John said, moving further into the room and sitting down on the free armchair.
"Were we too late?" Sam asked sadly.
"No. Andy is fine," John said.
"Then why are you here?"
The disappointment in Sam's voice hurt John. He wanted his boys to be proud of him. He hurried to explain. "He was the one that sent me. I had no choice. This kid, Andy, told me to come and I had to."
"No offence, Dad, but that's pretty weak," Dean said.
"No, I mean I had no choice. I think he's like Sam, one of the special children. He asked me what was wrong, and I told him. I couldn't stop myself; it was like he compelled me to do it. Then he told me to come here, to Sam, and I had to obey. It was like something else took over and made me do what he said. I knew what was happening, but I couldn't stop it. It didn't stop until I got here. This force or whatever, left." He looked at Sam. "I'm sorry, Son. I tried to do what you needed."
"What about Andy though?" Sam asked. "What if something comes for him?"
"I don't think you're seeing danger, Sam," John said. "I think you're seeing the others like you."
"Oh." Sam looked thoughtful. "They do all look around my age."
John nodded eagerly. "Exactly."
Dean looked down at the notepad, a frown creasing his brow. "There's a lot of them."
"How many?" John asked.
"Nine so far."
"You've had nine visions!" John said loudly and then quickly dropped his voice and apologized when Sam winced in pain.
"He's had over twenty," Dean said.
John stared at his son in shock. How was he still upright? The most John had seen him have before was three and he'd been wrecked.
"Time for some more meds?" Dean asked.
"Or a hospital," Jessica said quietly.
"You know they can't help me," Sam said gently, entwining his fingers with hers. "It's not a medical thing."
"Maybe not," she said. "But they have stronger painkillers than Tylenol."
"So do I," Dean put in. "You want some?"
Sam shook his head. "I'm okay. It's fading already."
Dean sighed heavily and turned to John. "So, this kid has mind control. That's awesome."
"I don't think he's dangerous. He helped me, sending me here, even after I babbled what was some pretty crazy crap. He seemed gentle enough."
"That's good," Sam said. "We'll have to be sure though. Max seemed okay at first, too."
"We'll check it out," John said.
"Now?" Sam asked hopefully.
"No," John said firmly. "We're going to take care of you first and then we'll take care of him."
He thought Sam's grimace was disappointment until his fingers clenched, squeezing Jessica's painfully enough that she winced. He bowed over again and a moan of pain escaped him. In what seemed to be a practiced routine, Jessica reached for him and began to soothe as Dean leaned forward, pad in his hand and concern on his face.
John was concerned too, and wanted to be with his son, but he knew he had to do something that would actually help him.
He stood and squeezed Dean's shoulder and jerked his head towards the kitchen door with a pointed look. Looking annoyed, Dean stood and followed John out of the room into the kitchen.
"What?" he asked impatiently.
"You got those meds with you?" John asked.
Dean nodded, seeming to understand what John was planning in the unspoken way they'd developed over a lifetime hunting together. He pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over.
"Perfect," John said, checking the label and shaking out a capsule into his hand. "Get me some juice."
Dean grabbed a glass and went to the fridge and half-filled it with orange juice. He carried it back to the counter and set it down while John teased the capsule open. He shook the grains of painkiller into the glass and swirled it to mix.
"Will one be enough?" Dean asked. "He is in a lot of pain, whether he admits it or not."
"We'll try one first," John said. "I'm hoping it'll get him to fall asleep and his exhaustion will do the rest."
Dean nodded. "Okay. Let's do it right." He went to a cupboard and pulled out a box of cookies. He took a few out and carried them into the living room on a plate with John following.
Sam was leaned back against the couch and breathing heavily. It looked like the vision had finished. Jessica was stroking a hand up his arm. She looked almost as bad as Sam. John could almost believe she'd been the one that had the vision.
"The blonde woman again," Sam said. "Nothing new. Just sitting in the dark room."
"We'll get to that in a minute," John said. "You need to eat and drink. You need to stay hydrated and your body needs the sugar."
Sam sat forward and took the glass from John and sipped at it. John watched him carefully for signs that he tasted the bitter pill, but he just drank it down and then took one of the cookies from Dean and nibbled at it.
Satisfied, John sat down again and picked up the notepad Dean had been recording the visions on. There were a lot of descriptions of the people Sam had seen and very few other details about them. One that caught his eye was a description of a man in a US Army uniform. He was the only one they had a name for.
Sam set down the glass with the half eaten cookies and thanked them quietly then rested his head back against the couch again.
John turned to Dean and spoke quietly, "This Talley kid, is there anything else on him?"
"No," Dean said. "Just that he's a soldier and it looked like he was on a US base."
John nodded thoughtfully. The plan he was slowly developing depended on them being able to find these kids, and if he'd been deployed it would be complicated.
They sat quietly for a while, John mulling the problem over in his mind. He watched Sam surreptitiously, waiting for the drugs to kick in.
"Baby?" Jessica said, concerned as Sam's hand came to his head. "Is it another one?"
Sam rubbed at his eyes. "No, I feel…" He trailed off, his gaze moving between the glass and John's face, looking betrayed. "What did you do?"
"You need sleep, Sammy," Dean said apologetically.
"You drugged me?"
"We helped you," John said, getting to his feet and walking to Sam. "Let's get you into bed."
Sam shook his head. "I don't need help."
John wasn't sure if he was commenting on what they'd done to him or the fact he could manage alone.
Sam struggled to his feet and walked heavily to the bedroom, supporting himself on the wall.
Jessica stood, too, and followed him out. She hesitated at the door and turned back to John. "Thank you," she whispered and then followed Sam into the bedroom.
"Well, that went well," Dean said sarcastically.
"As long as he's resting, it doesn't matter." John took out his phone and scrolled through the contacts.
"Who are you calling?" Dean asked.
"Help," John said simply.
He hit dial and waited as it was answered by a drowsy voice. "John?"
"Missouri, I need help," he said.
"What's happened?" she asked, sounding more alert now.
"It's Sam." His voice broke as he said his son's name.
"Okay, John," she said soothingly. "I'm coming."
John breathed a sigh of relief. He was at a loss to do more than ease Sam's pain by helping him sleep. Missouri was the only one he could think of that would have even a little understanding of what was happening to Sam. Hopefully she could do what John couldn't do this time—protect his son.
The night passed almost without a word between John and Dean. Dean heard voices occasionally from the bedroom, but neither he nor John investigated, giving Sam and Jessica their privacy in the only place in their home that hadn't become a part of Dean's and John's home, too. Dean dozed on the couch, waking at first with the slightest creak as John shifted on the armchair where he was slouched. He must have fallen into a deeper sleep at some point because when he woke, someone had draped a blanket over him. He felt guilty as he sat up quickly and glanced back at the closed bedroom door.
"They're still sleeping," John said quietly.
Dean looked at his father, noting the shadows under his drooping eyes. "Did you sleep at all?" he asked.
"Some," John said evasively.
Dean threw back the blanket, got to his feet, and walked into the kitchen. John followed him in and leaned against the counter as Dean filled the coffee maker and flipped it on.
"You think he's okay?" Dean asked.
"I think the fact we haven't seen him yet is positive," John said. "It hopefully means he's still sleeping."
Dean stared out of the window at the bright sky. It looked like he'd slept late. He glanced at the clock display on the stove. It was past ten. He never usually slept so late, even after a long night on a hunt.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?" he asked.
"You needed it," John replied.
Dean scowled. Sam could have needed him and his father had left him to sleep.
"I can't do anything for Sam right now," John said. "But I could do this for you. I would have woken you if anything changed."
Dean nodded his acceptance. He didn't like it, but he understood.
When the coffee was ready, John poured two mugs and carried them through to the living room. Dean folded the blanket and sat down on the armchair.
"What time's Missouri coming?" he asked.
"Her flight gets in at twelve. I'll go pick her up."
Dean could see his reluctance and said, "I'll go." He knew how hard it had been for John to go to Oklahoma instead of coming straight to Sam, and he thought he needed to be there more than Dean. John hadn't seen enough yet to know that Sam was beyond comfort most of the time.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Dean nodded and sipped at his coffee, his attention piquing when he heard Jessica's voice in the bedroom. He didn't try to listen to what she was saying; instead, he set down his mug and went into the kitchen to get her a coffee.
He opened the fridge to get the creamer and his eyes fell on the fruit. He wondered if he would be able to persuade Sam to eat if he made something healthy that he would prefer. He was considering his options still when he heard his father's voice in the living room. He grabbed the creamer and poured some quickly into the mug, stowed it back into the fridge and then carried the mug into the living room.
Jessica was sitting on the couch, slumped against the cushions. She was still dressed in her pajamas and her feet were bare, curled up under her. She looked like she'd barely slept. She took the coffee gratefully and answered Dean's unasked question as he sat down.
"He's still sleeping."
"How was he in the night?" Dean asked.
"Not good," she said. "He had the dreams again. I don't think it was anything new, though. He finally crashed properly and settled in the early hours. He's been quiet since."
"That's something," John said. "Hopefully he'll sleep till Missouri gets here."
"Missouri?" Jessica frowned. "She's your psychic friend in Lawrence, right? Is she coming here?"
John nodded. "I called her last night. She's on her way now. I'm hoping she'll be able to help. She's the only one I know with any experience of anything like Sam's going through."
Jessica nodded thoughtfully. "That's good. God knows I don't know what to do for him. My instincts say get him to a hospital, to people that can help him, but I know that won't work."
"He needs a different kind of help this time," John said gently. "Missouri can hopefully provide that."
"And if she can't?" Jessica asked, fixing searching eyes on John.
"We'll find something else," John promised.
She nodded and sipped at her coffee.
Dean drank his own and tried to find faith in his father's words. What other help was there? If Sam had tuned into the other special children, there might not be a way to stop it. There was no monster to fight, no demon to exorcise or house to cleanse. The only thing they could hope for was that killing the yellow-eyed demon would break the connection, though how long would that take? How much would Sam suffer before it was done?
Jessica set down her coffee and said, "I better change if we've got company coming."
Dean watched her walk back into the bedroom and said quietly, "She's a mess."
"We all are," John said. "But you're right. She needs our help, too. I don't know what we can do for her any more than Sam though."
Dean heard her soft voice through the closed door. He looked down at his mug, only raising his eyes when she appeared in the doorway again, her eyes wide and afraid. "It's happening again!"
John and Dean shot to their feet and Dean rushed after his father into the room. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare feet planted on the floor as if he was about to stand, though he didn't look capable. His head was in his hands and his fingertips were dug so deeply into his temples that they were white. He was barely making a sound, but Dean thought he could hear a moan building in his throat.
John crouched in front of Sam. "Okay, Son. Breathe through it," he said.
Sam drew a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. John encouraged him softly. "That's it. It's going to pass. You can handle it."
Dean waited for it to pass, his eyes on his watch. It took longer than any of the other visions had before he sagged and his eyes opened.
"It's over?" John asked.
Sam nodded and spoke in a wrecked voice "He's got dark hair. Longer than mine. He looks scared. He's sitting in a bedroom, just staring."
"Okay," John said. "We'll add it to the list. You lie down again." He eased an unresisting Sam back onto the bed and covered him with a blanket. "You want some painkillers?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes, please" Sam said quietly.
Dean was surprised that Sam was accepting them, and concerned, too. He had resisted everything but Tylenol before. He rushed into the kitchen and filled a glass of juice, thinking the sugar might do him good. He went back into the bedroom and shook a pill out into his hand. Sam pushed himself up onto an elbow and took the pill and glass. He swallowed the pill and washed it down with the juice then flopped back against the pillows as Jessica plucked the glass from his hand.
His eyes quickly closed, though his brow remained creased. "I'm okay," he said. "I just need to sleep."
"Okay, Sammy," Dean said. "You sleep. We'll be close."
"Thanks," he muttered.
John and Dean left the room and went back into the living room. Dean threw himself onto the armchair and raked a hand through his hair. "It's worse now," he stated.
"It is," John agreed. "The drugs should help though. He's still exhausted. Hopefully they'll keep him out till Missouri gets here."
Jessica came out a minute later, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She looked stressed still. "I think he's sleeping again," she said.
"That's good," John said.
"Yeah, but I think he's still in pain." She sat down on the edge of the couch. "I want to help him, I want to comfort, but even my voice seems to hurt him now."
"He's been through a lot," John said. "I don't think he can bounce back the way he did before forever. We have to hope that sleeping will help, even if he still dreams of them." Seeing his words weren't comforting her, he said. "Missouri will be here, soon."
Jessica nodded but still looked worried. She stared over the couch back toward the bedroom door, her brow creased.
John gave Dean a pointed look and then glanced at Jessica. "You should get going, Dean."
Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still too early to leave, but he thought he understood. If Jessica could believe they were doing something proactive for Sam, it might help her cope, too.
"Yeah," he said, getting to his feet and taking the keys from where he'd left them on the sideboard. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
He froze as he passed through the hall and heard a low moan coming from the bedroom. "Dad," he said softly. "I think Sam needs you."
He heard John come into the hall as he opened the front door and slipped out. He told himself that he was doing what he could to help by getting Missouri, but a small, selfish part of him was relieved that he was going to get a reprieve from seeing his brother suffer.
Knowing that by bringing Missouri he was helping Sam, even in a small way, Dean drove the journey back from the airport quickly. Missouri, perhaps reading him and seeing his desperation, didn't complain about the speed at all.
She hadn't asked any questions about what was happening, even though she only knew the bare facts from John's call. It wasn't until they were on the Palo Alto streets, almost at Sam's apartment, that she cleared her throat and said, "It's his visions."
Dean nodded. "Yeah. He's having a lot. Too many for him to handle. It started yesterday, and it's getting worse all the time." He swallowed hard, trying to push down his fear.
Missouri patted his arm. "It's okay to be scared, Dean. It's human."
"Can you help him?" Dean asked.
"I think so."
It wasn't the most reassuring response, but it was better than an outright no.
He pulled onto Sam's street and Missouri flinched.
"What?" Dean asked. "What is it?"
She shook her head and bit her lip.
"Is it Sam?"
"Are we nearly there?" she asked in lieu of an answer.
"We're here," Dean said, pulling into Sam's lot and coming to an abrupt stop. Dean threw open the door and then looked back when he realized Missouri wasn't with him. "You okay?" he asked, taking in her pinched and troubled expression.
She nodded and hurried after him. "Let's get inside before we talk."
Dean led her into the building and up the stairs. He unlocked the door and went inside. John came out of the bedroom and his expression brought Dean to an abrupt halt.
"He's worse?" Dean asked.
John nodded. "Much worse."
Dean turned back to Missouri and said pleadingly, "Help him."
She had her hand gripping the doorframe, but at Dean's words, she seemed to brace herself. She walked past them and into the bedroom. Dean followed her in and saw that Jessica was sitting on the bed beside Sam, her hand smoothing down the back of his neck gently. Sam was curled almost into a ball and his head was buried into the pillow. He looked wrecked, agonized, and Dean wondered how he could have deteriorated so much so quickly.
Missouri went straight to his side, paying no attention to Jessica, and pushed his damp hair back from his face. "It's okay," she soothed. "I'm here. I'm going to help you, Sam."
"Missouri?" he rasped.
"Yes. I'm here. You just rest a moment and I'll come back." She looked up at Jessica and said. "Come with me, honey."
"I can't," Jessica said. "It helps when I'm here."
Missouri looked at her sadly. "It really doesn't. Come with me. Let me explain."
Jessica got up from the bed and gave Sam a searching glance before walking out of the room.
"You too," Missouri said, looking from Dean to John.
John and Dean walked out into the living room and took seats. Dean sat beside Jessica on the couch and squeezed her hand. "It'll be okay. She can help."
He heard Missouri speaking softly to Sam and then she came into the room and eased the door closed behind her. Almost as soon as the door clicked shut, Dean heard a low moan. They all looked back at the door, alarmed, and Jessica half rose, but Missouri shook her head. "It's helping him. Sit yourself down and I'll explain."
Jessica sank down and Dean lifted an arm to her. She quickly curled into his side and began to cry softly.
"How is it helping him to be alone?" John asked brusquely.
Missouri perched on the armchair and looked at Jessica. "He doesn't want to hurt you, honey. So he's holding his pain in to protect you, but it's hurting him more. He needs to let it out. Set it free."
Dean nodded, wincing at the noise coming from the bedroom.
"What's happening to him?" John asked. "Can you see what he's seeing? He's not telling us anymore."
"Boy, can I," she said. "He's not thinking right now; he's screaming."
Dean felt Jessica shudder against his side.
"What are these visions doing to him?" Dean asked.
"It's not visions the way you're thinking," Missouri said. "It's vision, almost constant. That's why he's not talking. He can't."
"You mean he's seeing these things all the time?" John asked, horrified.
"Yes, "Missouri said. "He can't make sense of what it is as they flow one into the other almost straight away."
Dean closed his eyes as be absorbed the horror of her words. How was Sam even starting to deal with that? How was he alive even? That kind of pain could put him into shock.
"He's strong," Missouri said.
"We have to help him," Jessica said tearfully.
"We will," Missouri promised. "I will. You need to listen to me though. I need you to stay out here. John will stay with you. No matter what you feel, what you hear, you have to stay away."
"Because I'm hurting him?" Jessica asked.
"Because he's hurting himself to protect you," Missouri corrected. "He loves you so much, honey."
Jessica nodded and Dean squeezed her against him.
"What can I do?" Dean asked.
"You can come with me," Missouri said. "I need you to be strong for Sam. This is going to be hard, and he needs all the support he can get."
"Is it going to work?" John asked nervously.
"I think so," Missouri said. "A lot of it is down to Sam, but I know he's fighting hard already and will fight even harder." She looked from face to face. "He's fighting for you. All of you."
Dean jerked his head at his father and nodded to Jessica. Understanding, John stood and came to sit on Jessica's other side. She shifted away from Dean and closer to John as Dean stood. "Now?" he asked Missouri.
"Now," she agreed.
They walked to the bedroom and when Dean opened the door, Sam's moans cut off.
"It's okay, Sam," Missouri said. "It's just me and Dean. You can let it go." As Sam groaned, she turned to Dean. "Get on his other side. Let him feel you."
In any other instance, Dean would have felt uncomfortable climbing onto the bed beside Sam, but he was just glad of something to do.
"Sam, honey, do you think you can manage to sit up? I need to be able to reach you."
Sam struggled to sit, and Dean helped him to sit with his back against the headboard. He put his arm around Sam's shoulders, and Sam leaned heavily against him.
"That's it." Missouri said approvingly, nodding at Dean.
Sam hissed between his teeth and Missouri winced before she he mastered herself and said, "Okay, honey, you need to listen to my voice and let me guide you. I'm going to touch your head now. It might hurt, but it's going to help."
"Okay," Sam said weakly.
She brought up her hands to Sam's head and put her fingers to his temples. Sam flinched slightly but held himself in place.
"That's good," she said. "Now, Sam, listen to me. We're going to calm you down now, just like we did when I hypnotized you. Can you do that for me?"
"I can try," Sam said quietly.
"That's good. Now, nice deep breath—in through the nose and out through the mouth."
Sam obeyed but it was weak.
"Deeper Sam. Fill your lungs."
Dean saw the effort it was for Sam to do it, and he grappled for a way to help. He picked up Sam's limp hand and held it to his own chest, making sure to breath exaggeratedly. Missouri smiled at him and nodded.
"That's it. Feel Dean's chest move and breathe with him.
It took a while before Sam managed it, but he eventually fell into the same rhythm as Dean.
Missouri let him just breathe a while and then said, "Okay, Sam. You're doing great. Now you need to close the doors."
Sam frowned. "Doors?"
"Each vision is an door in your mind. You have them all wide open at the moment. You need to close them. Don't try all at once. Do them one by one. Wait for the next vision to slow and then try to imagine a door in your mind. That's right. That's looks perfect."
Dean wondered what she was seeing in his mind. He almost wished he could see, too, so he could understand properly what was happening to his brother.
"Here it comes," Missouri said. "We're going to do this together. Can you feel me there?"
"Yes."
"Now. Close it Sam. Don't try to slam it. You're not strong enough yet. But press on it."
Sam's fingers fisted against Dean's chest. Missouri frowned and her lips pressed into a thin line, and then she smiled as Sam relaxed against Dean.
"That's it, Sam," she said. "Perfect. Now, are you ready to try it again?"
"Yes," Sam said, and Dean was pleased to hear that his voice seemed a little stronger.
"Good," Missouri praised.
Dean pressed his hand to Sam's, holding it against his chest, hoping Sam would somehow be able to take some of his strength, too.
Sam stiffened and Missouri closed her eyes. Dean had to fight himself not to hold his breath with the tension. He needed to keep it even and steady for Sam.
Missouri breathed out a sigh of relief. "That's it, honey. Another one gone. It's getting easier, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Sam said. "Again?"
"Whenever you're ready," Missouri said, obviously pleased.
Dean held his brother against his side pressed his hand to his chest as he tried to will his strength into him.
It seemed to John that it was forever before the bedroom door opened. The sounds of pain had cut off early on, and all they could hear was the quiet murmur of Missouri's voice, but John was still tense. Jessica didn't talk at all. She just sat curled into John's side. He tried to remember when the last time he had held someone like this. He thought it was Sam when he was very young, when he'd sit under John's arm while he researched hunts. As much as he was glad to have something to do to comfort one of his family, he was relieved when Missouri came out. She looked tired but satisfied.
Jessica quickly scrambled to her feet. "Is he okay?" she asked.
"He will be. He's resting now."
"Can I go in there?"
Missouri nodded. "Yes. The worst part is over, and he knows what to do now when they come."
Jessica darted around the couch and into the bedroom.
"Is he really okay?" John asked.
"He's exhausted, and he's probably going to have a headache for a while, but yes. Come and see for yourself."
John walked into the bedroom, Missouri following, and stopped at the end of the bed. Sam was sitting with his back against the headboard and his head resting on Dean's shoulder. His breaths were the easy sighs of sleep. Dean had his arm around him and his other hand holding Sam's to his chest. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost as tired as Missouri.
Jessica was sitting on the other side of the bed, her hand on Sam's cheek.
"Dean?" John said gently.
Dean's eyes opened and he looked at John with a smile. "He did it," he said proudly. He looked across his sleeping brother at Jessica and said, "Here. Come lay with him."
He held Sam as he crept out from under him and eased him down on the bed so he was lying against the pillows then stood.
Jessica walked quickly around the bed and crawled in beside Sam. She tucked her head under his chin and nestled in close to his chest. Even in sleep, Sam's arm came up to hold her against him.
John crept out of the room and waited for Missouri and Dean to come out before he asked. "What exactly did you do?"
"I helped him close his mind," she said. "I've never seen anyone like Sam before; he's so powerful. I've taught him to protect himself from the visions when they come. He'll have more, but they won't overwhelm him like this again."
"Isn't there a way we can stop it altogether?" John asked.
"I'm sorry," Missouri said, "but I don't think that's possible. Sam's visions are as much a part of him as his heart or mind. They will always be a part of him, but he can control them now."
"He's going to hurt like that for the rest of his life?" John asked.
"Not like that, no. I think the visions will always hurt a little, that's the nature of them, but Sam can handle it. I'd like to stay a little longer. Work with him. I think with practice he can better control of them. Maybe explore them even."
"Make them stronger, you mean?" Dean asked. "Is that a good idea?"
"It's up to him," Missouri said. "But I think the more he sees, the better it will be."
"How?" Dean asked.
Missouri looked at John. "You're going to find these people, aren't you? The other special ones."
John nodded slowly. He planned to try at least.
"Then you're going to need all the help you can get," she said. "Sam's the best hope you have."
"I have to take him with me?" John asked, frowning.
"Yes," she said a little sadly. "This isn't just about protecting him anymore. This is about arming him."
"From what?" Dean asked. "Did you see something in his mind?"
"Just an image," Missouri said.
"What was it?" John asked.
Missouri frowned. "An old bell on a plinth. There was an oak tree cast into the metal."
So… Sam's on the track to protecting himself from the visions, and we have mention of an old bell with an oak tree. I think we all know what that means.
The scene with Sam blocking the visions had a whole different—and very creepy—vibe before. I'm hoping that between Gredelina1 and me it's been removed. If not, I apologize.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx