Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Obviously.

Dean was pulled from a fitful sleep by the rustling of blankets across the room. Sleepily, he peeked over the edge of the cheap couch in the cheap hotel room, unsurprised to see Sam had tangled himself in the covers with his flailing about. In the low light, Dean could see the kid's face was shining with a sheen of sweat, and Sam tossed his head, muttering to himself.

"No…get her…no…"

Dean sighed. If Sam didn't sit down and tell him what was going on with him soon, Dean was going to beat it out of him, he swore. The kid was—

The threat hadn't finished forming fully in his sluggish mind when a small gasp from the other bed got his attention.

Seriously?

Dean focused blearily on Kate, who had wakened quietly and was sitting bolt upright in her bed, breathing deliberately slowly. So another nightmare for her, too, apparently. The first in a few days, he noted with a small amount of satisfaction.

She was getting better.

"Kate?" he resigned himself to getting up, specifically if she needed some half-conscious, post-nightmare coddling. While Dean would never admit it, it was a part of his job as the big brother that he never really minded.

"'M fine." She responded, but her voice came out all wrong—hoarse and shaking—and Dean rolled off the couch to approach her. Her wide eyes took him in and she winced before she could stop herself. Dean slowed, reached for her. She let him smooth her hair back for a moment, then swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"What time is it?"

Dean looked at his watch. "Nearly five."

"Think I'm going to go for a walk." Kate stood, pulling on her hoodie. "Help clear my head."

Dean nodded. "Need company?"

"No, you should get some more sleep. You were still up when I went to bed at one, Dean; you need to get some rest."

He made a face—she was still on about that, even though he was getting a solid four hours a night now. Most nights. "Yeah, yeah. You okay?"

She nodded, opening the door and breathing in deep, closing her eyes as she obviously relished the cool pre-dawn air on her face. Dean fought a smile at her unabashed delight. "I'll be back in a little while."

She shut the door quietly behind her, and Dean breathed a sigh. He was suddenly very tired—Sam had quieted at last and Kate was up, so he flopped back onto the small couch. Folded his legs up, rubbed his face into the borrowed pillow, huffed as he settled.

Slept.

It was barely an hour later when he heard Sam stir—the slow, waking sort of stirring this time—and sit up with a small groan. Dean popped upright, noting in one glance that Kate wasn't back, and taking in Sam's extraordinary case of bedhead.

"Dude," he croaked. "You're gonna start attracting rats with that nest on your head."

Sam, ever the eloquent one, said, "wha—?"

"Intelligent," Dean quipped. "You need the john first? I'll start looking for a case for us."

"'Kay."

When a full minute had passed—Dean had laced up his boots and opened the laptop already—and Sam was still sitting on his bed, staring and incoherent, the elder Winchester shook his head. It was incredible, really, how a man who'd be fully alert and deadly in less than a second under different circumstances could, in the absence of a threat, be so…dim.

"Sam!" he all but shouted, and his brother jumped, eyes wide. Dean had to cough to force back the laugh that choked him. "Sometime today, man?"

"Yeah…'m up…" Sam stumbled out of the bed and toward the bathroom. Dean snorted and went back to the laptop.

Twenty minutes later, his much-more-human little brother emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing only a towel slung round his waist.

"Forgot clothes," Sam muttered sheepishly, when Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. As if it didn't happen almost every day, because Sam basically always woke up slow and stupid.

Dork.

But when Sam sat back on his bed after dressing, picked up a pad and proceeded to start doodling, ignoring all Dean's attempts at conversation—and later, shameless insults designed to provoke a response—for the next half hour, he began to think maybe something was up.

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Dean waved his hand in front of Sam's face, a little miffed that he couldn't seem to focus on helping find their next case. "Any of this blowing up your skirt, pal?"

Dean looked up as Kate walked in, cheeks a healthy pink from the cool morning air. She was toting coffees and a bag full of greasy breakfast goodness, and flashed him a smile he barely managed to return.

"Good morning, boys," she announced. Sam grunted in response, and Dean sniffed. "What'd you get?" he asked, taking the proffered coffee from his sister's hand.

"Wait," Sam muttered from the bed. "I've seen this before."

"Seen what?" Dean asked. Sam didn't answer, just got up and started rummaging through his duffel bag. Kate walked over to him, curiosity written all over her face. "What are you doing?" Dean stood.

Sam seemed to have located what he was looking for—a photo? He held it in his left hand, the doodle in his right, and both younger Winchesters bent their heads to study them. Dean nearly smiled at the sudden flash of memory—of a younger Kate helping a younger Sam with Algebra homework, huddled over a hotel room table just like that—until Kate gasped.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Dean asked, walking toward them, determined to figure out what was going on here. Sam turned back to him before he got there.

"Dean, I know where we have to go."

"Where?"

"Back home. Back to Kansas."

Dean blinked, swallowing at the way his heart thumped painfully at the idea. Forcing his voice to remain steady, he pasted a nonchalant look on his face. "Okay, random," he answered, gaze flicking to Kate, who looked stunned. "Where did this come from?"

"How did you…" Kate had found her voice, evidently. Sorta. "Sam, why did you draw this tree?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house—I think they might be in danger."

Dean cocked his head. "Why would you think that?"

"It's just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?" Sam turned and started stuffing things in his duffel. Kate shook her head, looking back to Dean with something akin to shock. Dean understood how she felt. "Wait…whoa, whoa…just, 'trust you'? That's all you got?"

Sam glanced up, his expression guarded. "I can't really explain it, is all."

Dean sat down, and Kate followed his lead, planting themselves on the other bed and facing their youngest brother. "Well, tough. We're not going anywhere until you do." Sam stopped packing, turned to face his siblings. A dozen emotions flashed over his face, the prominent one being stubbornness.

Kate evidently saw it too, because she reached out, taking Sam's hand and guiding him to sit across from them. "Come on, Sammy," she said softly. "We need to know. It'll be okay, just tell us what's going on with you."

Sam paused, and Dean held his breath. He knew a confession was coming, knew that look on the kid's face.

It was almost a relief. He was sick of wondering and worrying himself crazy over this.

"I have these nightmares," Sam began, haltingly. Dean nodded.

"We've noticed."

Sam swallowed. "And sometimes….they come true."

Um…what?

"Come again?" Kate sounded confused, and Dean couldn't blame her. He was pretty sure this was not what he'd expected to hear from his baby brother, in the way of a confession.

Though he could see why it would cause the kid considerable confusion and guilt.

"Look," Sam hesitated, as if pushing forward with this was physically painful. "….I dreamt about Jessica's death…for days before it happened."

Guilt. Called it.

Dean found himself searching frantically for an explanation. "Sam, people have weird dreams, man," he hastened to reassure his brother. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

Sammy shook his head. "No, you don't get it." He looked up, and Dean felt his chest constrict at the weight he saw in the kid's eyes. "I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything; and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it." Sam huffed a half-laugh, half-sigh. "And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?"

"I don't know," Dean heard himself say. He could barely absorb all this.

"Sam—"Kate piped up, but his youngest brother wasn't listening, looking desperately to Dean for answers. It was that same look he'd worn every time he asked what Dad really did for a living, when they were kids.

"What do you mean you don't know, Dean?" he pled. "This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

Dean's head was spinning. "All right, just slow down, would you?" He stood, unable to stop himself pacing.

"Sam, did this ever happen before Jess?" Kate asked quietly. Sam shook his head. "But that doesn't matter now," he insisted. "We have to go back to our old house now. This woman…we can save her!"

Dean shook his head. "Come on, man, give me a minute. I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when…." He stifled a shiver.

Sam softened, finally picking up on Dean's discomfort. "When what?"

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there," he answered, softly.

"You don't have to," Kate answered, standing and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting soft blue eyes.

"What?"

"We'll go," Sam answered, standing too as he picked up on what their sister was getting at. "Kate's right. You don't have to go through this. We'll go check it out. Just to make sure. It'll take a couple days, tops, and then we'll keep looking for dad, okay?"

Dean considered for a moment, but then shook his head abruptly. "No. No."

"What?" Kate asked. "Dean, you don't have to—"

"Of course I do," he answered wearily. "If this is the thing that got Mom and Jessica? Or something equally horrific? I can't sit back and leave you two to deal with it alone just because I'm…" damaged, he almost said, but couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"We'll be fine," Kate assured. "There's no need to put yourself through this."

Dean shook his head. "No. I'm coming with you."

He knew it was the right decision when Sam couldn't hide his relief at the declaration.

His siblings needed him on this one, and he'd be damned if he was going to fail them. Not this time.

48 Hours Later

"I've got Jenny, you two get the kids!" Dean shouted over the roar of the poltergeist that was currently turning the house into a warzone. Kate pushed Sam forward just as a lamp whizzed by where his head had been mere moments before. Dean cocked a brow at both of them, a silent warning to be careful, dammit, and then he turned and ran up the stairs.

Kate took a deep breath and followed. "You get the girl!" she shouted over her shoulder, knowing Sam would comply, and thundered down the hall behind Dean. Her older brother pounded on the door to the master bedroom, shouting for the young mother, and Kate didn't even pause, heading for the smaller room across the hall—the old nursery.

She burst in gracelessly, heart thumping painfully when she saw the tiny bed was empty.

"Ritchie!" she screamed, and the tiny boy's tousled head appeared from beside the dresser nearby. He whimpered, and she scooped him up gently; cradling him close and burying his face in her shoulder as the nightlight beside her leg zapped with a burst of electricity.

"It's all right, sweetie, just hold on for a second."

Kate dashed out of the room. Jenny's door was busted open and Dean was nowhere to be seen—she heard them downstairs, shouting and running—saw Sam approaching, the little girl holding him tightly. They ran down the stairs together, and Sam stopped at the bottom. Kate turned, confused, and he shoved Sari at her.

"Go!"

"What?" she barely had time to get the question out of her mouth before Sam was grabbed by an invisible force and bodily thrown backward.

Oh shit.

"Sari, take your brother outside as fast as you can!" she thrust the toddler at his sister and nudged her toward the open door, trying to ignore the similarities to her own hazy experience that night twenty two years prior, pointing to Jenny and Dean watching the house with something akin to terror on their faces.

It was a good thing, too. "Mommy!" Sari shouted, then ran, holding tight to Ritchie. Kate saw her make it over the threshold, saw Dean realize they weren't coming out and start toward the house, then turned to find her own little brother. A slam behind her made her jump, and she whirled to see the front door had closed—and likely locked—of its own accord.

Kate snorted and narrowed her eyes, turning back toward where she'd last seen Sam. She levelled the shotgun filled with salt rounds.

"Fine, you bastard," she growled. "Bring it on."

Dashing into the kitchen, Kate spotted Sam—he was slumped against the cabinet, limbs askew and eyes closed, blood trickling down from his hairline. She ran to him, panic gripping her chest as it always did when she saw him in such a state.

"Come on, Sammy," she went to her knees beside him and slapped his cheek firmly. God, it was a wonder any of them had working brain cells left after all the head wounds they'd suffered; she checked Sam's scalp—very little blood, a small knot forming under her fingers…

Kate crashed into Sam's chest as something big and blunt hit her from behind, momentarily darkening her vision.

Oh yeah, the poltergeist is here too. Son of a bitch.

Kate let herself slump against Sam, letting the spirit assume its attack had accomplished something while she took a few seconds to think up a plan. Distantly, she could hear pounding against the front door, Dean's voice barely audible over all the banging furniture and howling wind.

After a moment, the number of objects flying around settled a bit, the wind cut down, and Kate felt the temperature in the room drop to uncomfortable levels in a matter of seconds.

Showtime.

She jumped to her feet and whirled to face the spirit, shotgun ready in hand, but she never used it. The poltergeist, which had obviously thought both its victims were done putting up a fight, roared its fury, the sound absolutely deafening.

Kate had the vague impression of several sharp objects zooming toward them and on instinct, dropped the gun and shoved a hand in front of her as if she could toss up a brick wall solely with her mind.

What the—?

She was still struggling to register the fact that she had dropped her gun (dropped. the. gun.) when she noticed her fingers tingle as heat filled her palm. Light radiated from her skin; the knives and shards of glass stopped in midair eight inches from touching her or Sam, like they'd stuck fast in some sort of force field.

Oh God, this definitely qualifies as weird.

The spirit seemed as shocked as she was, its ugly face twisted in rage but unmoving. No more knives headed their way, no more wind. Just eerie, stunned silence broken only by the sound of fracturing wood as Dean took what sounded like an axe to the front door.

Behind Kate, Sam gasped a breath she recognized—her little brother was coming to.

Shit shit shit—

She couldn't let her brothers see this…this…freaky crap! It was terrifying enough without becoming an outcast in her own family…

"K't?" Sam slurred behind her.

Please, not yet, Sam, just stay down…

The spirit grinned, sensing her reticence, and opened its mouth. Several things happened at once then: Kate shut her eyes and turned, letting go of the warm light that had been pooling in her palm and throwing herself on top of a weakly stirring Sam, hoping to shield him from whatever the spirit decided to hurl at them next. The knives clattered to the ground just as the front door slammed open and Dean bellowed her name from down the hallway. Kate shut her eyes tight, preparing for the worst—

And nothing happened.

After a split second, she looked up and nearly choked on her own heart. She felt Sam stiffen beneath her, which told her she wasn't the only one who saw it.

The next instant, a gun poked its way around the corner, trained right on—

"Dean, no!" Sam shouted, trying to struggle to his feet. Kate jerked away, trying to help him stand while refusing to take her eyes off the sight before her.

"Mom?" she breathed, afraid to look away, to move, god, to even blink…

The poltergeist was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Mary Winchester's ghost smiled at her three children, who were all staring at her in varying degrees of shock. She walked gracefully toward her oldest, and Kate thought her heart might break from the expression on Dean's face—it was aching, desperate even. "Dean," Mom murmured, and his green eyes filled with tears at the sound of her voice. She lingered for only a moment before moving to Kate, who kept Sam close just in case her instincts, which screamed this was really her mother's spirit, not some trick, were wrong.

"My Katie," she murmured, and Kate managed half a smile, which made Mom's smile widen.

Finally, she turned to Sam, and for the first time, her expression clouded. "Sammy," she said, and her voice held such despair that Kate felt a punch of fear. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked heartbroken and confused. "For what?"

But their time was up. Mom backed up, looking toward the ceiling, speaking to the poltergeist now. "And you. Get out of my house. And stay away from my children."

Flames engulfed her as conflicting roars filled the air, making Kate's eyes water. "Mom!" She reached out, and Mary's blue eyes met hers once more, sorrow and pride warring for dominance. Kate gasped back a sob, her chest tight.

Don't go.

Please.

But it was too late. Mary—and the poltergeist—were both gone in a rush of wind. Silence filled the room in the aftermath, broken furniture shifting and broken siblings leaning quietly on one another.

Sam slumped against the counter. "Now it's over," he murmured, his voice wrecked.

Kate and Dean just nodded.

A/N: And the plot thickens! Here's where things start to get interesting—hang on for the ride, y'all!

THANK YOU FOR READING! Don't forget to leave me a note with what you liked, what you didn't, and any theories you might have—they're like catnip for my muse! Special thanks to summerald, Nova42, CornishGirl, and Candy for their help turning out chapters!