I dreamt of you the other night...
Cassandra Sunn
Story Rating: PG-13 for incest, homosexuality, and language.
Chapter Rating: G
Genre: Romance
Summery: Sam begins having these strange dreams. Yet they don't seem like dreams. Could they be images of the past? DeanSam.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not own Redlands Daily Facts. And, just to be on the safe side, I don't own Redlands, California, St. Nazaire, or France. I do own Monique Couste, Jean-Pierre Charpontier, Franུois Capet, and their families. No stealing! growls at evil people stealers
Warnings: WARNING! There is slash in this story! And not just any slash. Incest slash. If that ain't your particular cup of tea, go away. Incesty tea is all I have. . ' I'm still going to get flamed for this...
Mindless Dribble: I hate plotbunnies!
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Chapter One: First Dream
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I ran down the beach, creating a small sandstorm behind me. My dear Jean-Pierre Charpontier turned towards me. His smile filled my heart with joy. I sped up and nearly fell into his arms. We clung to each other, my tears staining his coat.
"Oh, Monique," he murmured into my hair. "I'm so glad you're here. I am miserable every second you're not with me."
"Jean-Pierre," I murmured back. "What do we do? The wedding is in two days."
"I know, ma cherie. I know." He hugged me tighter.
"Why is the world so unfair? We are meant to be together! I know we are!"
"Oui, we are."
"We should marry for love, not money or class or whatever!"
"Oui, ma cherie."
"I don't love Francois. I love you."
"And I you. But your pere does not care. Monsieur Capet has money. I do not."
"I wish you could talk to papa."
"Me? Talk to Monsieur Couste?"
"I know. It wouldn't work. Just the foolish thoughts of a girl in love."
Jean-Pierre chuckled softly. "I love your silly thoughts. You're so much better than any other girl I know, in every way. You're smart, beautiful, a joy to be with."
I smiled, a small blush creeping into my cheeks. "You always know what to say."
"I think I know of a way to be together."
"You do? Oh, mon amour, what? What is it?"
He grasped my hands. "Run away. We can leave this place. Be together forever."
I was silent for a moment. "Leave St. Nazaire? I don't know if I can."
"Don't you want to be with me?"
"Oh, Oui, oui, I do! Very much. But this is my home. I've never been anywhere else. It's just a bit frightening."
"I understand."
I sighed heavily. "Let me think about it. I know that's not what you wanted to here, but I need some time. I'm sorry."
"Oh, take some time. It is a big decision, I know. I've been thinking for a week myself."
"I'll sleep on it. Let's meet back here tomorrow."
"Oui, ma cherie."
We hugged. Clung to each other is more like it. Then we kissed. The feel of his lips made me want to run right then. But I knew I had to think about it. As we parted, fresh tears stung my eyes.
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Sam Winchester opened his eyes. That had to be the weirdest dream ever. But it was better than the nightmares. But why was he a woman? And why did it feel more like deja vu than a dream? Questions without answers.
He rolled over in the squeaky hotel bed and muttered, "Jean-Pierre." Why did he say that?
"You say something, Sammy?" Dean Winchester called from the bathroom. He peeked his head around the door, a yellow toothbrush hanging from his mouth.
"No," Sam replied, yawning. "And don't call me that."
Dean grinned, a bit of toothpaste dribbling out. "Okay, Sammy." He went back into the bathroom.
Sam groaned as he sat up. He couldn't remember the town they were in. Somewhere in California. Southern California. Somewhere. Whatever.
Dean came out of the bathroom. "Get up, Sam. Come on, we got a case."
Sam fell back onto the bed. "We should be searching for dad."
"We are. But this is important." He tossed a newspaper on the bed.
Sam picked it up. Redlands Daily Facts. Well, now he knew where they were. Having never heard of Redlands, it didn't help much.
"'Mysterious Death'," Sam read aloud. "'Yesterday, 22 year old Amanda Fukagawa was found dead in her apartment. There were no marks on her and, as far as can be told, there was no reason for her to have died. The doctors proclaimed her as healthy as could be.'" Sam looked up. "So?"
"So?" Dean repeated. "So, that is the fifth person to die like that in the past two months."
"Okay, fine. Any leads?"
"Not a one."
Sam rolled over. "Great."
"Why are you so tired? You didn't have any nightmares."
"How can you tell?"
"When you have a nightmare you mumble and twitch and stuff."
"Oh. Well, I dreamt, but it wasn't a nightmare." Sam yawned again. "I'm just tired."
"Oh, okay. Get up. I'll get some coffee."
Sam half rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He heard Dean leave. He turned on the shower and let the cold water shock him awake. He then adjusted the water and undressed. As the warm waterfall fell over him, he again thought of the dream. Monique Couste. That had been his name in the dream. It sounded familiar. He had been speaking French, as had Jean-Pierre. He didn't know French. He had taken Spanish in high school. Yet he understood it completely. Weird. Dreams were difficult to decipher, he knew, but this was impossible.
He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Dean was sitting at the table, nibbling on a piece of toast. Two steaming cups of coffee sat next to his plate. He looked up from the newspaper as Sam entered the room. Suddenly, Sam wished he had gotten dressed. But why? Dean was his brother. He'd seen Sam naked before. No big deal. And yet Sam found himself blushing as Dean looked at him.
"You okay?" Dean asked. Sam nodded and grabbed his clothes off the bed. He retreated back into the bathroom to dress. He'd never done that before, but something made him. Something in his mind told him it wasn't right. Wasn't proper. Wait, what? Proper? He was losing it. Big time.
He shook his head and got dressed.
"I found someone we can talk to," Dean said when Sam came out. He pointed at the article. "Aaron McDonald. His roommate was Richard Hunt, the fourth victim. Aaron was the one who found the body."
"Okay, lets go talk to him." Sam sipped the coffee, burning his tongue.
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"So, do any of the victims have anything in common?" Sam asked as they drove to the college.
"Yeah, they all go to the same college," Dean replied. "And they all have the same major. Math."
"Who are the victims?"
Dean pointed to a piece of paper sticking from the glove compartment. Sam took it out. There were five names on it.
"Cyndi Wiig, age 23," Sam read aloud. "Danielle Stevenson, age 22. Angelo Mendez, age 21. Richard Hunt, age 19. And Amanda Fukagawa, age 22."
Dean nodded. "Yup. They all went to the University of Redlands. Math majors. Good students. 4.0s and stuff."
"Okay, and what about Aaron? The same?"
"No. He goes to the U of R, but he's not a math major. I don't know anything else about him."
They pulled onto the campus and parked. After asking around a bit, they found Aaron's dorm room.
"Now remember, he just lost his roommate," Sam whispered. "Be nice."
"Don't worry." Dean knocked on the door.
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What do you think? Nice, huh? I'm aware there was no incesty yummyness. That's a bit later. Now, review!