Part Twelve

The drive to Sioux Falls, South Dakota was long and mostly uneventful. Dean, as always, was driving. It was his plan and the beloved Impala was normally always driven by their father or Dean, whom the car now belonged to. Sam was riding shotgun which left Jess sitting in the back, resting her head against the window, uncharacteristically quiet. The first few hours had gone by listening to familiar rock music of the '80s. Sam wanted to roll his eyes when his brother exchanged out a cassette tape of Motorhead only to be replaced by AC/DC.

They stopped for gas a few hours later and as Dean filled the tank, Sam found himself slipping out of the Impala to go visit the little convenience store. Dean glanced up and looked at him at the sound of the door shutting. "Gonna run in and grab some snacks," Sam muttered and Dean simply nodded and went back to keeping track of the tank.

He didn't bother asking Dean how he was going to pay for the gas. Since mom passed away years ago, dad moved them from state to state, looking for answers on how mom could've died. He'd gotten some of his questions answered by a psychic named Missouri who Sam had been pretty skeptical of at first, 'til she decided to read all three of the Winchesters' minds, one by one. She started with Dean.

"Don't you dare think 'bout putting your foot on the table, Mister," she snapped at a bewildered looking Dean.

"I didn't do anything!" Dean had said, looking offended.

"No, but you were thinking it," Missouri said as she walked into the kitchen. All three men followed her and watched as she pulled out a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. When she turned around to look at them with a smile, the tray of cookies in her hands, Sam swore his mouth started watering just from the smell alone.

They sat at the dining table and ate cookies as their father rehashed what happened to Mary and how he suspected it wasn't a sudden tragic death like all the doctors told them. Sam thought Missouri might've corrected their father and said that while it was a little weird how sudden mom caught some fatal disease, things like that sometimes happened. But to his surprise she just looked him dead in the eyes and nodded along with him, her face grim and serious as she said, "You're right, John. You and your family…there's an evil that's been following you around since you were a mere boy."

And that was how it all started really.

Missouri went on and on about how there was evil surrounding their entire family but she also felt something good mixed in there as well. Sam wasn't sure what she meant by any of that. He'd pushed that particular night far into the recesses of his mind. Even though Missouri proved her ability to read their minds, Sam had still been a little skeptical in psychics.

Then he began having the dreams. Premonitions. Whatever.

It started months ago. Little things at first. Stuff he didn't notice. He thought they'd been regular dreams. He'd dream of stuff like specific model cars or signs. The next day he'd wake up and he'd go outside for a jog or whatever, and in the middle of it, he'd stop to watch the exact car pass and he'd frown and think, 'Haven't I seen that somewhere?' But it wasn't enough for him to link it with his dream.

Then his dreams started to take on a sinister quality. He remembered dreaming of a random house with blood on the walls and a body on the floor. Sam shuddered as the image of an empty crib flashed before him.

Soon after that, he had another dream that involved some kid named Brett, a guy who'd been in a class or two with Jess, who he'd met a grand total of twice, both of which with Jess present. He'd dreamt of the guy getting into his car one day and everything had been normal up until a green light on the street near campus. The truck came out of nowhere and smashed into Brett's little toyota. He woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, with Jess asking him over and over what happened and if he was okay and if she could get him something to drink. He had just turned to her and gave her a fierce hug, refusing to let her go all night. He remembered feeling dazed, his body trembling, too tired to give her any kind of explanation, just whispered, "Thanks, Jess, but I'll be fine."

When Sam walked into the store, he made a beeline for the back aisle. He grabbed a few bags of chips, some cold sandwiches he figured would tide them over for lunch and a pack of beer, mostly for him and Dean since Jess wasn't much of a drinker. He stopped by the fridge and got her a couple cans of coke, then went rummaging around the racks for some magazines for Dean. It didn't take him very long to find exactly what he was looking for. Some random magazine about the latest in engines and Busty Beauty Asians. He rolled his eyes and grabbed both magazines.

As he paid for the stuff, the door pushed open to reveal Jess taking a step inside. She glanced around the store, looking a little unsure, before finding Sam at the counter. He forced a tired smile on his face as she headed over to him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he said back just as the cashier, some lanky looking kid with large brown eyes and messy brown hair, handed him back his change and the bag full of food and drinks and magazines. "Thanks," he said as he pocketed the change and took the bag from him.

"What's all that?" Jess asked as he stepped back. She frowned at the edges of the magazines poking out. Sam opened the bag and let her peer in curiously. She took out the first magazine which was the Asian porn he'd gotten specifically for Dean because he knew if he didn't get him something, he might try to search the crap up on his laptop. She raised an eyebrow as she quickly flipped through the magazine. "I didn't know Asians were your type," she said casually, before closing it shut and handing it back to a red faced Sam.

"They're not," he grumbled as he shoved the book back into the bag. He straightened back up and led them out of the store. "These are for Dean."

Jess fell silent at that. For a minute.

"You buy your brother porn?"

"Sometimes," he answered. "I just bought these so that Dean doesn't get bored."

They reached the Impala and found Dean paying for the gas. He glanced up as they slowly approached. "Bout time," he grunted before turning back to put his card in.

Sam rolled his eyes as he held the bag up, realizing Dean couldn't see it now with his back turned. "Don't complain, man. Got you some food and beer," he said.

Once Dean finished paying, he turned back around. He looked at the bag and licked his lips. "Did you get me pie?" he asked.

"Uh." Sam frowned. Crap. Of course he'd forgotten the pie. "Sorry, I forgot."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "Of course you did. You always forget the pie," he grumbled. They all stood there in awkward silence before Dean rolled his eyes and opened the door. "At least you got us beer. Now c'mon. Get in. We're wasting daylight."

Doing as his brother ordered, they both got into the Impala and Dean put on some Van Helen.

They ate sandwiches and had cold beer as a late lunch. Around eight in the evening, Dean began to yawn and Sam offered to take over for the last leg of the trip. Dean had given him a look and ignored him for another hour. It wasn't until he started to nod off that Sam put his foot down and told him to pull over. He was going to drive and Dean wasn't going to fight him on it. Surprisingly his brother had no snarky come back. He quietly conceded that Sam was right and he'd get in a few hours of sleep riding shotgun. He quickly pulled them off the road and they switched seats.

Dean was out in minutes once he'd climbed into the passenger seat. Sam glanced into the rearview mirror and realized Jess had been out for the duration of the drive as well. He sighed to himself, realizing for the first time since he'd gotten into the Impala, just how stifling the sudden silence could be.

He drove.

The last time Sam had been to Bobby's had been when he was seventeen. Dean had been twenty-one at the time. It had been the summer just before he'd graduated from high school. The house was small and had been built on a large expanse of land that Bobby turned into some salvage yard with rows upon rows of old cars and trucks. At the time he had two dogs, an old black rottweiler he'd found roaming around, lost and hurt. Rumsfeld. The other dog had been a middle aged large golden retriever named Alfie.

Sam pulled up the old long driveway. Even though it was pretty dark out, Sam could see the house just fine. The lights were all turned on and he thought he saw the figure of a man sitting on the old porch. It was just as he remembered it. He parked the Impala next to an old blue and white looking truck and killed the engine. Just as he turned to wake his brother and girlfriend up, he heard the familiar, gruff voice of Bobby Singer call out, "That you, boys?"

Sam turned back around and opened the door to see Bobby heading over to the Impala, a small flashlight in one hand and being trailed by an excited and barking Alfie, tail wagging furiously from side to side. "Bobby, hey," he greeted as he stepped out only to be engulfed in a bear hug by the man who he'd come to think of as an uncle during that summer he and Dean spent over here.