Chapter 2
Concern formed creases, just above Dean's eyebrows, which quickly spread until they were literally etched all over his face.
"What?" Dean asked incredulously, looking in horror at his younger brother. Questions, almost too many in number, began to spew.
"Dying? Why? What happened!"
"I'm not sure," Sam offered in confusion.
"Damn it, Sammy. Think. Why were you dying? What happened to you?"
"I'm not sure, Dean."
"Were we on a hunt?"
"No, I don't think so."
"What do you mean 'you don't think so?' I thought you said the visions were very clear and detailed, and that it was like watching it happen," Dean anxiously questioned.
"It usually is. But this was confusing and to be honest, I was half watching and half taking in what was going on with Denton. I felt you were in danger and my attention was divided. Somehow I lost parts of the vision I guess."
"Damn him," Dean cursed before continuing. "Do you remember if we were in the car?"
"No, not in the car."
"Where were you?"
"It was dark and musty. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. I remember seeing an old farmhouse, I think. Or maybe it was a barn."
"Was I with you?" Dean asked hesitantly, fearing the unthinkable- that Sam might be alone somewhere where Dean could not help him.
Sam paused.
His hesitation didn't go unnoticed by his protective older brother.
"Sam. Was I with you!"
"No," Sam offered softly. "I was... alone."
Sam looked back at Dean with a desperate expression.
Dean shook his head. It was unthinkable.
"No. No way," Dean defiantly stated, shaking his head with conviction. Sam sure as hell wasn't going to die alone by himself. Not now, not ever. Dean knew that if, God forbid, Sam ever did get killed, that he would go down with his little brother. It was an unspoken law. And nothing would ever change it.
But Sam's visions were damn accurate. And, if this one was the real deal, something was going to get his little brother alone and...
Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Was it the demon, Sammy?"
"I don't think so."
"What about the timing? Was it night? Day? What?"
"Night. No, maybe day. I don't know, Dean. Maybe both," Sam stated in exasperation.
"When do you think it'll happen? I mean are we talking today, tomorrow, next year? What?" Dean spewed, his eyebrows creased almost fearing the answer.
"Soon," was the youngest Winchester's reply.
Sam began to weaken as the prolonged pain from the lingering headache and the questions began to reveal some unpleasant truths. He would be alone and dying sometime in the near future, and he really had no clue as to how or when this would happen or even how to prevent it. He shifted a bit too far to his left and nearly lost his balance.
"Easy, Sammy," Dean spoke softly and with confidence. "We'll figure this out. We've stopped a lot of crap from happening before with your visions. This is just another one to figure out," he offered, though his insides were churning with fear of what might happen if they couldn't.
Sam knew Dean was worried. He could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Yet, somehow he found comfort in his brother's words. Maybe it was the tone or the strength of the heart that spoke them, but Sam knew that if there were a way to figure it out, Dean would find it.
Dean helped Sam make it to the Impala and settled him into the passenger seat.
The younger sibbling slid down in the black leather seat resting his aching head against the back and closed his eyes. God, his head hurt.
Seeing his sibling settle in, Dean surveyed the parking lot looking for signs of the old hunter. He was relieved that he was nowhere in sight. He hoped his threat was idle and that the bent hunter would give it up and move on. Right now, Dean had something bigger to worry about- keeping his little brother safe.
He started the engine, turned the music off to give Sam a bit of quiet to rest, and drove off, heading back toward the motel. The tires crunched the gravel beneath them as he skidded onto the street.
In clear hearing distance rose a rough old hunter- who had now determined his next prey.