Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish desperately that I did. Oh well
Warning: Nothing in this chapter.
Chapter 2: The Thing About Visions
Dean shook Brian's hand as the older man sat down across the table from him and Sam. He knew, could pick straight away, the old passionate grief for his murdered wife, and felt another stab of guilt at not saving her. It didn't make it any better that Brian, being one of those genuinely good and open people didn't blame him at all for Katherine's death.
"This is my brother Sam," he introduced. The two shook hands and Sam smiled warmly in that easing way of his, with that smile that instantly made people like and trust him.
"I'm sorry about your brother," Sam said. In a small flash both of them saw the newer grief overlay the old. And then the loss of his wife, that keen grief, was prominent once more.
"Thanks," Brian replied, waving at what they assumed was a friendly face. Then he turned his gaze back on them, frowning. "And thanks for coming. I'm just hoping you can help. Not just for me. This whole town's in mourning. If one person dies everyone knows who it was and is affected. When five are murdered, in such a horrible way..." He let it hang in the air.
Dean nodded. "That's what we're here to do, if we can." He took a sip of his beer. "What can you tell us?"
Brian sighed and undid the top button of his uniform. "There have been five murders so far. Keith's just the latest. The first took place 3 weeks ago. We can't find any pattern - the victims shared as little as any who live in a town this size and there's none of the usual consistency."
"How were they killed?" Sam asked, ignoring his own drink. He was far more interested in the emotions passing over the cop's face.
"All mauled, in various ways. Almost like an animal mauling, but in closed rooms, with no sign of forced entry, or the usual animal signs. But at the same time the attacks have had too much strength behind them to have been done by humans." He shook his head, apparently confused.
"What about this guy you found at the fourth killing? What does he say?" Dean asked. Sam seemed lost in thought.
"James Archer, thirty-three. He's a... was an English teacher, and, rumours say, the local closet-psychic."
Dean avoided looking at Sam who was suddenly very interested in his glass. Brian noticed none of what passed between the two brothers.
"What does he say happened?" Dean asked to keep the conversation moving.
"He says he doesn't remember anything. We all thought he was lying, but we can't prove that. It doesn't matter. He had the victim's skin and blood under his nails and in his teeth."
Brian shuddered, not seeing the brother's half-disgusted, half-thoughtful glance at each other.
"Can we speak to him?" Sam asked. "And can we see the reports?"
Brian chewed his lip thoughtfully. "You're not cops," he began until Dean interrupted him.
"We can fix that." Brian winced.
"I forgot, your fake id's." He sighed, shaking his head. "Just don't get caught."
Dean nodded and Brian shook his head again, before he and Dean turned to their own, relaxed conversation.
Sam blanked out of it, leaving them to their memories. Drawing little signs in the condensation of his glass, he suddenly felt eyes on the back of his head. He turned and just spied a brunette teenage girl looking away. Immediately she aroused his curiosity. Not just because she had been watching him. But because he suddenly felt a strange kinship with her. Which was strange.
"Who's that?" he asked Brian motioning to the girl who kept glancing up at him from where she was cleaning tables.
"That's Sasha Farrell. Her uncle owns this pub and she's lived with for most of her life, ever since her parents died. Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Sam didn't hear it but responded absently.
"It's nothing. She was just staring is all."
Immediately all suspicion was gone, but Brian stood.
"I have to go," he said offering first Dean and then Sam his hand. They both shook it. "Don't forget, 9am tomorrow. And try to look the part this time."
"What did he mean, try to look the part?" Sam asked Dean when they were back in the motel room. Sam had turned the laptop on again, looking for information about the five victims and the accused killer. He heard Dean answer from the bathroom.
"When I was trying to help him last time, I acted as a cop - I even got the uniform. But apparently it was all wrong and... Well, he knew that. He had a gun on me before I even knew it was a poltergeist."
Sam smiled as Dean flushed the toilet and came back to the beds. That was so like his brother.
"What have you got?" he asked. Sam shrugged.
"The first victim was killed in her apartment. Her name was Paula Collins. No one heard or saw anything. Just like all the others."
He got more comfortable on the bed and continued.
"Victim 2 was Kylie Walker, single mother of 3, killed in her bedroom. Number 3 was Edward Harper, in his office. Number 4 was Lucy Taylor, grandmother - don't you love it how newspapers dramatise everything."
He ignored Dean's eye rolling. "Last one was of course, Keith Murdoch, killed in his garage."
Sam shook his head. "From what I can tell, Brian's right. There's no consistency at all. All at different times, though it was all at night. It doesn't make sense. It's got to be a demon, but even the most basic demon has a pattern."
Dean nodded while Sam stifled a yawn, flicking now through the photos from the articles to see if anything popped up there.
"Huh," he said in a disbelieving tone. Something had popped up but nothing like what he had expected.
"What is it?" Dean looked up from what he was doing.
"That girl, Sasha Farrell, who was staring at me in the pub. She's in every one of these photos."
Dean raised his eyebrows and went over to take a look. Then he shrugged. "It's a small town. Probably just a coincidence. They do happen."
Not to us, Sam wanted to say but he was stopped by another yawn, which he cracked his jaw on by trying to smother it.
"Dude, get some sleep." Dean ordered, taking the computer away. Sam shook his head.
"I'm fine."
"Like hell you are. Are you having more nightmares?" he asked. Sam sighed.
"Not that I remember." It was the truth, but Dean took it to mean no.
"Then at least lie down, or shower while I get dinner. There's got to be at least one takeaway restaurant in this sorry excuse for a town."
Dean left and Sam had to push instant worry down. It was so much harder to ignore these feelings when there was no one to hide them from. He took Dean's advice. He went to have a shower.
He let the water run as hot as he could bear it before stepping under the spray. He tensed at the pain from the hot needles of water, but finally began to relax as his body became used to it. He leaned one shoulder against the wall, letting the spray work knots out of his other shoulder. He took a deep breath and stood completely under the water. He was so tired; these nightmares were getting to him again, like nothing since he had met Max. He was still trying to decide whether or not the nightmares or the sudden inability to remember them was worse.
Sam forced his body to relax again, and stifled a yawn. He lifted his head to face the spray. This was helping. Suppressing those feelings of dread took it out of him, created stress and tension in his own head. It made him so tired.
Sam barely felt his feet slipping on the wet tiles before he slipped into unconsciousness.
The pizzas warmed Dean's hand through the cardboard as he got out of the car. They smelled great as well.
As soon as he was in the motel room though, he knew something wrong. Dropping the pizzas onto his bed he moved to the bathroom door. He could hear the water running, though he could have sworn he had heard Sam turn it on before he left. That had been half an hour ago.
Dean knocked on the door. "Sammy?" No answer.
"Sam?" he tried again. Still no answer. He tried the handle: it was locked.
"Sammy?" It was louder this time. He tried shaking the handle, knowing full well that wouldn't work. He tried a shoulder instead and to his surprise, the door opened.
"Sam!" he exclaimed at seeing his little brother lying face down on the floor, water pooling around him and a towel thankfully hiding anything Dean didn't relish seeing. He went to his knees beside Sam, rolling him over.
"Sammy?" Dean repeated, checking for a pulse, thankful when he found one, strong and steady. But his brother's face was pale, and his whole body trembled.
"Sam, wake up," Dean half-ordered. "Do it now kiddo, or I'm gonna call you 'Sammy' for the rest of your life."
Surprisingly the threat worked seemed to work. Sam's eyes popped open and Dean saw the fear before his little brother cloaked it with practised ease.
"We've got to help her," were the first words out of Sam's mouth as he struggled to sit up. Then he saw the towel and turned red. "What happened?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Dean responded, standing to clear his legs out of the water. His pants were soaked but he still helped Sam to his feet.
Dean had expected Sam to spill all, but the younger Winchester instead ran from the bathroom to his clothes. Dean looked on in shock as Sam began dressing.
"Sam! What's the matter?" This wasn't like his kid brother. Sam was the one who stepped back and thought about things. He didn't rush in head on. Sam didn't stop, but explained - sort of - as he got dressed.
"I had a nightmare - a premonition. I know it was." He pulled a t-shirt over his head. "This woman... she's gonna die. If we don't leave now."
He sat on the edge of his bed to put his sneakers on. With a start Dean realized the water was still running. He turned it off as he spoke.
"What, she's gonna be killed by this... whatever." Dean still didn't feel Sam's insistency. He was too worried about why his brother had collapsed in the shower.
"Yes," Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Hurry up and change your pants." He was on the other shoe now. "Come on." And he headed for the door.
The house was dark when Dean pulled the Impala up out front. There was no sign of life despite it being only seven. Other houses, none close by, glowed with light but this one was dark.
"Are you sure this is it?" Dean asked Sam, who nodded. This was definitely the house he had seen.
"So what happened?" Dean asked for maybe the tenth time. All his other enquiries had been met with a "Drive faster" from Sam. "What did you see?"
Sam felt his stomach clench with the memory. It had been very strange and very frightening
"I was in the shower." He had been relaxing and had let his guard down - stupid but it would allow them to save this woman. He almost wondered whether it was worth it. "I must have fallen when I fell unconscious. But there was no warning, like the headaches or anything. Just one minute I was in the shower, the next I was watching this house."
He felt Dean frown and decided to ignore it. "Then I... saw this thing appear at the window. Only for an instant..." He hoped Dean hadn't noticed his pause. "Then I was by her window, watching this thing practically rip her to shreds. She was screaming and there was a roaring wind. And then I woke up."
Dean took a deep breath, peering through the front window at the house, trying to see any movement at all.
"This woman? What did she look like?"
"That was what was strange. I felt like I knew her. She was so familiar but I can't remember where from." Sam too, peered through the window, giving the shotgun by his leg a reassuring touch.
"And this thing. What did it look like?"
Sam didn't answer for a moment. Then he answered quietly, "I don't know. I didn't see it."
Dean nodded. "Could be a ghost, or some kind of spirit." Sam didn't say anything. "Look, dude, I don't think anyone's here. Are you sure it was tonight?"
Sam nodded. "It was dark, and my premonitions usually come close to the actual time. I mean, they have so far," he pointed out.
Dean leaned back in his seat. "All right, we might as well stay. That's the reason I pay for motel rooms after all, just so I can sleep in my car." But he didn't close his eyes, just sat there, pretending to watch the house. Sam knew his brother was watching him.
Sam didn't close his eyes either. He was afraid to have another dream.
He had lied to Dean. He hadn't watched the thing rip that poor woman apart. He had been the thing that had ripped her apart. Well, not him, but he had been in its body, feeling every slice, hearing every scream, and revelling in its every thrust of barbaric ecstasy. He forced the bile down and tensed his shaking hands. He wasn't about to let his guard down again.
Dawn came and Sam was still awake. Dean had gone to sleep long ago, a slight snore ripping out of him every now and then.
Sam was watching the still lifeless house. He felt gutted. Nothing had happened. Nothing, all night. So what had his nightmare been? Why had he dreamed that? The bile rose again. It had felt so real; he had felt her skin shred beneath his claws... realizing he was staring at his nails, he fisted his hand and continued to stare out the window.
The first rays struck the Impala's hood and Dean woke with a start and a snort. Sniffing, he sat up and looked around.
"What time is it?"
Dean looked at his watch and then at the sun creeping in through the window.
"I'm guessing nothing happened," he stated, giving Sam a look. Sam just shook his head, feeling frustrated and slightly embarrassed.
"Maybe it was just a normal nightmare," Dean began.
"No!" Sam practically shouted, causing Dean's eyebrows to rise. "It wasn't normal." God, let it not be normal. What was he becoming if that was normal? "It felt so real."
He turned away to swallow yet more bile. Dean still noticed.
"You okay, Sammy?" He was truly concerned. Sam rubbed his forehead.
"I'm fine. I just don't like these nightmares."
Dean seemed to take that as he bent to turn the engine on. Sam stopped him with a frantic look.
"What are you doing?" Dean gave him a strange look.
"It's daytime. You said your dream was at night. And we have to get ready to meet Brian at the station."
Sam almost felt like smiling. Almost. A year ago his brother would have just winged it. Like he was the first time with Brian. But he didn't say anything; just quelled the sudden panic and leaned back in the seat. Dean drove back to the motel.
Thanks for reading people! Hang in there for the next chapters. Please?
