Dean's hands grip the wheel tightly as Sam stares listlessly into space. The elder Winchester attempts to keep his hands at the 2 o'clock position but the perspiration is making it difficult.
Sam is keeping him in the dark.
He hates it.
He is the big brother here, not Sam. He should be the one with all the knowledge, with all the answers…Sam should at least give him the chance to pretend he is in control.
Sam doesn't.
'Look…you're my brother…and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.'
Like what? Dean can't stop thinking, like freaking what? It terrifies him and saddens him in equal measures at the thought that his little brother is holding something back about Jessica's death. What could it possibly be? And more importantly is it something that could endanger Sam?
Dean hates being kept in the dark.
He doesn't do helpless.
It's not in him.
Not who he is.
He is Dean Winchester, some time play boy, sometime charmer, all time kidder, he is strong and protective and always in control. Dean Winchester is not helpless.
'You need to tell me Sam…'
Sam stares from the window and emits a sigh, a frown creasing his forehead, that gaze that sees too much already closed off once more.
'No Dean…I don't.'
'Look Sammy if this is something that could hurt you or us you need to tell me man.'
'You don't need to know.'
'Is this about the dream?' Dean probes and Sam flinches, not obviously but Dean notices.
Sam turns to him an eyebrow raised unable to hide the look of fear that has shot to his dark eyes. Odd eyes really, Sams'. They are the same blue/green of his and his fathers but the shape of them, the almond shape are all his mothers. That much Dean remembers.
Dean keeps his eyes on the road, glancing at his brother only once. 'You know the nightmares you've been having?'
Dean prides himself on noticing many things invisible to the naked eye, if he had realised he'd missed Sam's deep shudder of relief he'd probably have kicked himself. Sam schools his face again…for a moment there he thought Dean had sussed it out. The premonitions…Dean isn't talking about them though, he is just talking about the nightmares.
Sam can deal with Dean's questioning about that, but not about the premonitions, he wants Dean kept out of it. After Sam had 'seen' the bloody Mary figure in his dream and had his little outburst in the hotel room he'd told Dean he'd been reading some urban legend myth book the night before and the legend had stuck in his head and he'd obviously dreamed about it. No big deal. Nothing weird, just a dream…
Just a dream…if only…
Luckily Dean had believed him, he had no reason to assume Sam was lying.
But Sam was lying.
Sam's been lying a long time now.
And it started before Jess was killed.
Sam always knew he was different, not just different in the sense he learned to shoot a gun before most kids learned to walk or that he spent most of his days hunting the creatures that most people believed only existed in their darkest nightmares…No Sam was even more different.
Because Sam saw things.
He saw things before they happened.
It had started when he was very young this sense of knowledge of some all seeing power that meant he could sense things, feel things before they occurred. He always knew when his father or Dean was in trouble before they screamed for him or one another. They were so busy trying to protect him from whatever monster they encountered that they hadn't even noticed. They hadn't noticed that at times when the werewolf or zombie, or wendigo was right on them, Sam would be there, smashing its skull in with whatever tool he could find.
Good reflexes his father said.
He never noticed that Sam was there a good few seconds before the creature even attacked.
His father was blind. Blinded by the quest for vengeance, all these years Sam had grown up pissed about that and he finally learned how his Dad must have felt…only to have him vanish on him.
The irony was almost laughable.
The feelings were strong, and usually always right, but they weren't full on premonitions, not until the month before Jess died when he was woken from his slumber by a force so strong it took his breath away and left him gasping for air beside his still sleeping girlfriend.
He had seen it clear as day, he saw himself coming home, he saw fire and burning flames and Jess screaming his name, screaming for him to save her. He saw.
But he didn't believe.
Didn't trust it.
Wouldn't go there, wouldn't fully let himself believe it.
He couldn't lose Jess, not like his mother, nope these visions must have been stories he'd heard about his mother's death from Dean and his father. He must have been conjuring up things.
That was what Sam told himself.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
Nothing was going to happen to Jessica.
Never mind that he had the same dream every night for weeks before, never mind that leaving to go with Dean a small part of him, if he ever let himself admit it, KNEW that something was going to happen…Sam refused to believe it.
Sam was wrong.
When those flames had taken hold, they'd licked against the white skin of his girlfriend, they'd shot from the ceiling like they had a mind of their own. Sam had lay on his bed and even as he screamed and screamed he was enraptured by them.
They licked and flickered and hissed against her skin but all Sam could hear was his name…
They were hissing out his name…
Sammy…
Sammy…
Sammy…
'Sammy! Sammy! Hey?' Dean's voice snaps him from his trance. He can't tell Dean about the premonitions, he needs to deal with this alone, and a part of him wants to protect his brother from the horrors inside his head. No one should have to see what he sees…
He deserves it though, Sam knows it. He knows that deep down he was the reason his mother died, he was the reason Jess died. Everything comes back to him. And he has no idea why.
Sam had seen all kinds of monsters in his time, but what kind of monster was he? That the only two women to ever love him were brutally murdered above his bed. He imagines he must have been an evil, twisted figure in a past life to be punished the way he has been.
'Tell me Sammy.' Dean growls now from the seat beside him.
Sam's not going to tell him.
He'll spin him some story…he'll tell some half assed truth to protect him.
And Dean…Dean will pretend to believe it.
Dean knows Sam is lying. This isn't just about the nightmares about Jess's death. It's more…much more…
He doesn't want to drop this.
Sam doesn't give him a choice.
He turns the stereo up loudly and for a moment they both welcome the thumping base breaking the air practically reeking with deceit in the car.
'So…' Dean breaks the silence, ' we're heading to a little town called…'
'Lost Creek'. Sam interrupts, eyes never leaving the window.
Dean frowns for a moment before shrugging it off and heading down the country road.
He didn't realise he already told Sam that.