"How many have you found like this?", Sam asked the rancher.
"Well, this one here makes 17 in the past 3 months", the elderly man replied, running a handkerchief over the back of his neck. "If this keeps up, I ain't gonna have enough beef to sell come next spring!"
"And have you seen this happen before?" Sam was trying to concentrate on writing in his notepad while swatting at the flies constantly buzzing around his head.
"We always lose a couple during a really bad Winter or hot Summer, but never this many. And the way we been findin' 'em is mighty peculiar."
"How so?", Sam asked.
"Never seen the guts left like that before. It's usually the soft parts that get ate first by buzzards or coyotes."
Sam glanced over at his brother, and couldn't help but notice how green Dean looked. By now, Dean usually had something smart-assed to say about the whole situation, but he was oddly quiet. He only stared down at the dead cow like he was gonna be sick. Which wasn't all that far from the truth.
Standing in front of the bloated carcass of the latest mutilation, Dean was regretting eating so much at breakfast. New Mexico? In the middle of August? Bessy was ripe! It wasn't that he hadn't seen it before... Eyes, tongue, udder, and genitals removed with almost surgical precision... What was really making his stomach turn was the way the intestines had been laid out over the animal's body... It was eerily familiar.
"Dean?", Sam whispered, making Dean flinch like he'd screamed it. "Dude, you ok?"
"Uh... yeah. Just... um... too much breakfast, that's all." Dean wiped his palm over his mouth and started walking back to the car. Sam thanked the old man for his time and handed him one of their FBI cards before jogging off after Dean. He could tell that Dean wasn't telling him the whole truth. He was gonna have to confront Dean about this at some point, but he had no idea how to go about it. When Sam made it back to the Impala, Dean already had it started. Sam jumped into the passenger seat and when Dean grabbed the gear shift to put it in drive, Sam grabbed his wrist.
"What?", Dean growled, glaring at his younger brother.
"We need to talk about what's going on with you." Sam was giving him those puppy-dog, pleading eyes again. "Starting with that dream last night. You haven't been the same since then." To Dean, the cab of the car suddenly felt stifling, closed in, and he never felt more like heaving. The second Sam mentioned his nightmare, all Dean could see in his head were Sam's lifeless eyes and his guts laid out across his chest like some messed up necklace. His gorge rose up and he couldn't hold it in anymore. Dean killed the engine, leaped out of the driver's seat, and ran to the ditch on the other side of the road, just before his breakfast came back up all at once.
"Dean?!", Sam bellowed, running around the front of the car. He made it to the other side just as Dean wobbled and fell to his knees in the dirt at the edge of the road. Sam crouched, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You OK?" Dean just nodded, panting, with his head down. "Come on. Let's get you back to the motel." At this point, Dean was in no condition to argue. He let Sam haul him up and put him in the passenger seat. His head was pounding and his stomach was cramping something terrible.
"Sorry, Sam", Dean whispered, leaning his sweaty temple on the cool glass of the passenger window.
"For what?", Sam chuckled. "Getting sick? Don't worry about it, Dean. You'll feel better when you get outta the heat." Dean closed his eyes and tried to not think about that horrid dream. His queasiness never let up.
When they got back to the motel room. Sam helped Dean sit down on the closest bed and went to his duffel for the aspirin. At the last second, he grabbed the bottle of antacids as well. He handed the pills to Dean and then turned to get him a glass of water.
"Sam?", Dean croaked weakly. Sam turned and froze when he saw the look of despair in his brother's eyes. It was an expression that Sam had never seen before and never wanted to see again. "You died, Sam."
"Wha... what?", Sam stammered breathlessy, his eyes going wide.
"In my dream... you died." His head dropped between his knees and he heaved a heavy sigh. He heard bed springs squeaking and looked up to see Sam sitting across from him on the other bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. He didn't speak. He only waited for Dean to let it out in his own time. "I... I heard screaming and... and at first I thought it was you. But you were still asleep. And then I heard it again and realized that it was a woman screaming for help from outside. So, I grabbed my gun and ran outside and saw her being dragged into an alley by... someone. I think it was a man, but I can't be sure. But, when I got to the alley, they were both gone." Dean suddenly stood up, making Sam flinch, and started pacing back and forth between the beds. He was becoming increasingly more agitated by the second.
"Dean?", Sam whispered, swallowing hard. "You OK, Dude?"
"When I g-got back to the... the room... you..." Dean stopped pacing and stared down at his brother before his face scrunched up like he was in pain. "You were dead! ON THIS BED!" Dean pointed down at the bed he'd been sitting on just a moment ago. "And not just dead, Sam! You were gutted! It was..." Dean made a sound like he was choking. "Your intestines were laying out across your chest! Just like that fuckin' cow!" Sam was speechless. What could he really say to that? That it was just a dream? That it wasn't real? Sam couldn't say that because he didn't believe it himself. They had seen and been through too much to believe in coincidences.
"Dean, I..."
"But, then I saw her again", Dean said, cutting Sam off. "Right here. In this room."
"Who? The woman from the alley?", Sam whispered.
"Yeah, she was here. But I couldn't see her face. She... she reached out to me." Dean spoke so softly that Sam could barely hear him. "That's when I woke up." Dean sat back down on the bed, rubbing his face with both hands. "And this... isn't the first time I've dreamed about her."
"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Sam ground out. He hated it when there were secrets. He knew from personal experience that keeping secrets only got them into trouble.
"Because I didn't think they were real! I thought that I made her up!" Dean froze, staring off into space for a long moment before looking back at Sam again. "Do... do you think she's real, Sammy?"
"I don't know, Dean." Sam sat down next to him on the bed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "But, the way you described how I died in your dream and how we found that cow... that can't be a coincidence."
"I was afraid you'd say that", Dean groaned.
"After you're feeling better, we'll go check that alley and see what we can see, ok?" Dean just nodded, his head throbbing dully.
Three hours later, Sam and Dean crept into the grimy alleyway with their guns drawn. It was deserted, save for a dumpster on either side, overflowing with smelly garbage from the several businesses nearby. But Dean knew that if he were to find something, it would be down at the end of the alley where she and her assailant had disappeared in his dream. He stalked off, going deeper down the dead-end street.
"Dean?", Sam whined. Everything about this felt wrong to him. It felt like they were walking into a trap. "DEAN WAIT!" But Dean was already running into the shadows at the end of the alley. He knew this was gonna be trouble. Sam sighed and chased after him into the darkness. At first, Sam couldn't see a thing, but then his eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness and he could see Dean crouched down close to the back wall. He could feel it coming.
This was gonna be a SHIT LOAD of trouble!