Here's part 2 and I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to REVIEW! Thanks so much!

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SJ

Disclaimer: I own only those characters not seen on The WB.

Chapter Two

It had been easy for Sam to lie to Dean for the first few nights. He wasn't sure if it was easy because he'd become such an exceptional liar or if it was because Dean wanted to believe that nothing was wrong; that after enduring everything they had in Lawrence if Dean was ready for things to return to their equivalent of normal. Those nights of easy lies, ones that simply rolled off Sam's tongue ended the night he dreamed of Dean. Dean's appearance in Sam's regular nightmares was not abnormal, especially after the shape shifter, but Dean had never been in one of Sam's premonitions. This time he was watching the girl again. She was beneath Dean, his fingers wrapped around her throat, and though she fought him with everything in her she was still just a little girl in comparison to Dean. Sam stood from his theater seat and reached for the screen, screaming Dean's name as he did so, begging him not to kill this girl they had never met. What Sam failed to notice about the surroundings of the picture on the screen was that they were familiar to him. They were the same as Rebecca's house, the house where the shape shifter had almost killed him, the shape shifter that had looked like Dean.

Sam felt himself being pulled from sleep though he fought it. He needed to know how this ended, if the girl would live, but there was someone calling to him. Sam could hear his name but could not make out the voice, but that issue paled in comparison to the vision he was having. What the hell would make Dean kill this girl? When was it going to happen?

"Sammy!" This time he could not ignore the intensity or the voice. Dean was calling him and he sounded troubled. Sam couldn't risk his brother being in danger for the last snippets of a premonition that made no sense anyway.

"What's going on?" Sam mumbled as he lay gasping for breath on the cheap motel bed.

"You tell me. You were screaming my name, begging me to stop. What the hell were you dreaming, Sammy?" Dean asked as he leaned back, satisfied that he didn't need to monitor Sam too closely now that he was awake.

"It's Sam, and no I don't want to talk about it."

"Sam, this can't go on much longer. Whatever it is that your dreaming is not only interrupting your life it is interrupting mine. I deserve an answer." Sam could feel an anger building in him. Of course Dean managed to turn the whole thing around so it was about him, though Sam could see what Dean was trying to do.

"I've been having premonitions." Verbal diarrhea, that's what Sam was plagued with. He'd intended to tell Dean something along the lines of "go screw yourself", but no. He'd just confessed what he'd been hiding for days, and Sam saw immediately that premonitions were the last thing Dean had expected. More than that though, Sam could see Dean's apprehension to approach the subject of Sam's supernatural abilities.

"Okay. Well, what was it? Will it help us find Dad?" Dean could feel his stomach knotting up. Sam's premonitions bothered him, Dean couldn't lie about that, though Dean was pretty sure that what bothered him wasn't that Sam's premonitions existed but that he'd kept them from Dean for so long. It made him wonder what else Sam was hiding.

"That's the thing, I don't understand them. Usually, when they happen, I'm an active participant in them. I'm myself performing some action, but these have been different. . ."

"Wait a minute, these? There's been more than one?" Dean pressed. Sam sighed, the bigger picture was the important part, the part that Dean was missing.

"Dean, that's not the point. The point is that in these premonitions it's like I'm watching a movie. I'm sitting in a theater seat looking up at a movie screen watching this girl. I don't know who she is but the other night I saw her on a ceiling just like. . ." here he hesitated. "Just like Mom and Jess." Sam finished as Dean sighed heavily. There was nothing good about what he was hearing and Dean's apprehension was growing.

"Well, why the hell were you screaming at me? And Sammy, don't you dare tell me I was on that ceiling with her."

"It's Sam, and you weren't. That's the other weird part of it. You were there, and you were trying to kill her." Sam said the last part gently, but he still saw the look in Dean's eyes, the way the light there dimmed just a little, how he pulled back just a little.

"Okay, well, do you know where she is or who she is?" Dean asked, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

"No, that's the frustrating part. I have no clue where she is. Has there been anything in the paper about fires killing women?"

"Nothing. We'll buy a local paper tomorrow and check again." Dean offered as he returned to his own motel bed. Sam sighed. That had gone far better than he'd expected.

"And Sammy, try to premonition us something useful next time, like a location." Dean called to him, a smirk clear in his voice. Sam hurled his pillow at the other boy and settled in for the rest of the night.

What Adelaide Jameson loved about St. Joseph was that no one was an unknown. Of course this didn't mean that a person couldn't find themselves as a loner, but everyone in town would at least know your life history. So, when the mysterious black car rolled into town, Adelaide was wary of it right away. The girls at school had been chattering incessantly over the passengers of said car while some of the boys she knew were enamored with the car itself, but not Addy. Addy wanted nothing to do with the car, it's passengers, or what it meant. During her classes she could manage to distract herself long enough to forget about the town's hot gossip, but she found herself thinking about it whenever she had a free moment not occupied by the essays of Emerson, electron configurations, and geometric formulas; and this was how she knew. By her seventh period lunch Adelaide was certain, by the all too familiar feeling of a thousand butterflies dancing in her stomach anyway, that at least one of the passengers of the black car was the man from her dreams, the one who had tried to kill her in her nightmares.

But he wasn't making things easy on her. Just the night before Addy had dreamed that she was being strangled by the cord of a light and the boy had saved her, had held her against his shoulder as he shook with, what she assumed was, a mixture of terror and relief. Furthermore Addy knew that this boy was about to upset her life, so when her dearest friend Chastity, a more inappropriate name for a girl like her Addy had yet to find, found her and confessed that the night before she'd slept with one of her classmates Addy jumped at the chance to tear her thoughts away from the boys.

"Chastity, slow down." Adelaide demanded before the other girl had a chance to say anything.

"I didn't even do anything yet!" Chastity exclaimed, dramatically tossing her long blond locks over her shoulder. This, Adelaide conceded, was true. Chastity had been preoccupied with rearranging the lettuce and tomatoes on her chicken sandwich. She had been thinking quite rapidly however and had gone through too many emotions at once.

"I'm sorry but you're overloading my special sensor, if you catch my drift."

"Sorry, but I'm really conflicted about this, Adds." Chastity whined.

"No you're not, Chas. You're happy that you did it, what your conflicted about it what his girlfriend is going to think." Adelaide supplied. Chastity frowned. Having a psychic as a best friend was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

"Adelaide, I swear he told me the two of them had broken up." It was all she could offer in defense of her actions, not that Chastity felt she needed to defend what she'd done. Oh no, she just wanted Adelaide to see the whole picture.

"Chastity, don't worry about it. I have a special feeling that things will work out for you." The smaller redhead assured. This time she was glad it was something close to the truth. She really did have a good feeling about Ben Carruthers.

"Hey, did you hear about those guys that came into town this morning?" Chastity whispered conspiratorially. Addy sighed mentally, there was just no escaping them was there?

"Yeah, I don't have a good feeling about them, though." Addy confessed, pulling her sandwich into small, bite-sized pieces.

"A feeling or something more?" Damnit, Chastity knew her too well.

"I've been having dreams, yes, and I think that at least one of the boys in that car is connected to my dreams." Chastity studied her friend for a moment. She could not recall a moment at any time in their lives when Addy had sounded unsure of her gifts, but right now, sitting in their brightly lit cafeteria munching on a sandwich her mother had made in their white picket fence neighborhood Chastity could tell that Addy was terrified.

"Adelaide, things are going to work themselves out. Whoever these guys are they probably just need your help or something, right? Isn't that what you always dream?" Addy appreciated Chastity's encouragements but this was something she was going to have to figure out on her own, she had one of her special feelings about it.

Dean was sure that there was a circle in Hell waiting for him. He figured it wouldn't be one in the ice, or if it was maybe just his toes would be in that frozen lake, but Dean imagined that if he was going to Hell his circle would be a library filled with files. Dean hated searching through files. Sammy, he loved it but then Sammy had never really been like the other Winchester men. No, Sammy had taken after his mother. The younger man was loving this wasted afternoon of searching for newspaper articles about fires consuming homes where a woman had died. In three hours they had found fifty articles concerning fires, thirty of which involved a death, and fifteen of those that had involved a woman. Narrowing it down from there the brothers had added the criteria that the woman be a teenager and they were left with one. One freaking article that had nothing to do with a teenage girl getting herself plastered to her ceiling and burnt to a crisp. Dean was ready to lose it.

"Sammy, there's nothing here. Your dream girl obviously isn't dead yet." Dean whined, sounding dangerously close to five year old status.

"You're right, this is pointless. I don't know what to do Dean. I can't think of any way to find her. I don't even know where to look." Sam's confessed perhaps more for himself than for Dean.

"Well, why don't we find a motel? Then you can get some sleep and dream up a way to find her." Dean suggested. Sam sighed. Dean's sarcasm wasn't helping much either.

As they drove Sam found his mind wandering back to times from his childhood and how when driving thorough neighborhoods such as this one he'd wished that he could be one of the little boys that lived with the safe, sturdy walls of an actual home, instead of a car and sometimes, when they were lucky, a motel. His thoughts were interrupted when they turned onto Primrose Lane. Each house was the same basic design, differences in only the color, the option of shutters, and whether there was a fence or not, but Sam knew this place. He'd seen the girl frolicking in one of these yards with an older brother. Everything was exactly as it had been in his dream, the snow and all, and it suddenly hit Sam like a ton of bricks. There, at house 1541, a green affair without shutters but with a fence, was the girl preparing to throw a snowball at her brother.

"Dean! Stop here!" Sam exclaimed, paralyzed in fascination. Dean looked between his younger brother and the fairytale scene taking place just beyond the car windows.

"Is that her?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Yeah, that's her."

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