Hey, sorry it's been so long for me to update. I'm back, though. Thank you so much for the reviews and for continuing to read my story even though I haven't updated in a while.

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sam was quiet the whole way, signaling that something was bothering him. Dean could feel the storm brewing. Sure, the sky had turned a color closely resembling black, and he found himself wondering when the hurricane season started, but it was more than that. He could feel pain radiating off of Sammy. With a sigh, he admitted that whatever was going on would soon come to a head. There was still time to fix things, but he knew Sammy wouldn't talk to him about it, so why waste the time. So, they continued on in silence, Sam looking out the window with a far-off look to his face, while Dean watched the road, ignoring that Sam was in another world all of his own.

When they saw the sign welcoming them to Olney, Sam broke from his daze and looked at the directions he had. It wasn't too far from where they needed to be, but he wanted to turn back. The vision was back, was eating away at him. He could see the blood, feel Dean's arms around him, only now, he felt himself bleeding, shaking, shivering, and the sensation of a seizure that he had only experienced once before in his life when he had a fever as a child. He could even feel Dean's arms around him, his scalding hot tears dripping onto his icy cold face. Whatever was going to happen, Dean was going to be scared, probably even for his life. He needed to get away from Dean so that he didn't cause him that much grief. There had already been enough grief to last the rest of their lives. He did not need more before Sam actually died.

"Turn left here, Dean." Sam said as they neared the place where they needed to get off the highway. He needed to focus on this task at hand.

Dean took the turn, cursing that Sam hadn't told him sooner, as Sam looked back at the directions. Something felt cold all of a sudden. They needed to be going away from here, not toward. "Dean, we need to go back." His mind raced, not letting him in on what was so important. Something was seriously wrong, but he could not grasp it to figure out what it was.

"What? Why do we need to go back?" Dean asked, incredulous that they had gotten almost there, possibly within a few blocks, and now he was being told to go back.

"I don't know. We just need to go back. Something is not right." Sam's voice shook as he spoke. He didn't know what it was, but something about being here made his stomach hurt.

"Sam, we'll just go there for a few minutes. If you still don't feel right, we'll go, okay?" Dean knew that it was serious, and he was willing to compromise. He trusted that Sam knew what he was talking about, but wanted to make sure.

They pulled up to the house where Dane lived, and Sam felt the pain get worse. Pushing it aside, he got out of the car, following Dean. Dean knocked for a moment, but then changed tactics. The man was obviously not there. If they broke into the house, they could probably find more information anyway. He went around to the back of the house, getting up on a patio chair while pushing the window closest to the ground open. Sam came up behind him and helped him in the window. After his brother was in the house, he propped himself up to follow him. Dean appeared in the window. "Sam! Go back to the car, now!" He yelled, anxiety lacing his voice.

"What is it?" Sam asked, still trying to get in the window.

"Damnit, just listen to me!" Dean yelled again. Sam backed down, turning to go back to the Impala. He knew when to listen, and when to back off and let his big brother handle things.

Dean looked at the scene around him. It had been a while since Dane had been alive. What truly scared Dean, what made him want to take Sam and run was how he had died. Apparently, this chick didn't need the person to be actually in that building. Dane had shot himself while sitting in his recliner in the living room of his own home. He probably hadn't even been to that college in years, maybe even as far back as the day he dumped Rachel more than twenty years ago. It had probably been days since he had shot himself judging by the amount of decay that was on the body. Dean was glad that he had gone in first. There was no way he wanted Sam to see this... not after everything that he had been through in the past few months.

Ignoring the body laying there, Dean looked for the man's desk. Maybe he had some papers that could help them. After a quick search of the house, he decided that the man didn't own any papers, not even a newspaper, and made his way out of the house. When he got out of the house and was headed toward the car, he made a quick call to the police to let them know that the man was dead.

Sam was waiting in the car when he came back. He was doubled over in the seat, arms wrapped around his stomach. "Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to see what was wrong.

"Just get us out of here," Sam said through clenched teeth, his breath coming in harsh choking gasps. Dean wasted no time, getting in himself and pulling out of the driveway as quickly as the mud under his tires would allow him. Red soil. Red blood. He blanked his mind, trying to ignore the memory. When he got a mile down the road, he looked over at Sam. His brother was doing much better. The color that had drained from his face when Dean came back to the car had come back, and he was not crunched up anymore. He knew he should have listened, and didn't know why he didn't.

"You feeling better?" Dean asked, glancing over and trying to look like he was not worried.

"Yeah. Dean, what was in that house?" Sam asked. His voice was quieter than usual, sounding more like Sammy the child than Sam the man. He knew he needed to be honest, even if he made his brother uncomfortable. If something were to happen to Sammy... He just needed to know what was going on so that he could protect himself.

"Her boyfriend committed suicide. It wasn't pretty, Sammy. He had been there for a couple days at least. He also didn't have any kind of paper in his house, whatsoever. So, we are back to square one. All we know is that she can reach further than a dorm room down the hall." Dean said, hoping that Sam didn't ask any more questions. "She could reach you." He said under his breath.

"Did you call the police, so that they know he's dead?" Sam asked, still quietly. Something was still bothering him beyond what he had found in the house, but Dean let it go for now. They had forever to deal with things, and he did not want to deal with a brooding Sam right now, no matter how worried this whole incident had him. They were in new territory with Sam's visions. Dean made a mental note to look through Dad's journal to see what he had written about it. It would be better to actually have the man here so that they could talk in person and figure things out as a team, but he had to take what he could get.

"Yes, Sam! I'm not just going to let his body lay there." Dean snapped. Sam knew that something was going wrong. There was nothing that either of them alone could do to stop the visions he had been having from coming true.

Hope you liked the chapter. Please feel free to review any way you would like. Happy hunting.