On the Flip Side

Chapter two: Where is Dean?

By: Ambrlupin

Summary: John Winchester knew something was needed for his boys, even after his death. So he enlisted a little help after the fact. Now Dean has to deal with what he fears most, Sam's psychic powers, because well... They're not Sam's anymore.

Disclaimer: -sigh- Nope. I wish I owned them. But I do not. They'd take them away if I did.

A/N: Wow. That was...17 reviews, in the first day. I have never had that happen before. I was a little giddy, to tell you the truth, and that made me hurry to write this chapter up for you guys. Thanks for the reviews, I love them all, and respond to a lot - especially if you ask questions I feel inclined to maybe answer. -grin-

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Missouri felt something in the air change, some balance shift, and she knew that whatever she had just done, per John Winchester's last request, had knocked something off. The paths of fate and destiny had shifted, but in what way she knew not. For good, or for evil.

Closing her eyes, she opened up the part of her that allowed her to see the twists and turns of the demonic network, opened herself up to her psychic powers, and felt herself being thrown backwards, into her own mind with a snap.

Something like ice slid down her spine and Missouri covered her face with her hands.

What had she done?

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"Dean?" That was the first word that passed Sam's lips as he found himself on the floor of the motel, lightly splashed with long dry soda. Afternoon sun blazed outside the window and he groaned, rubbing his head.

Just behind his eyes was a pounding headache, trying to tear his brain apart. It was like the headaches he got during and after a vision, only a hundred times worse. Crawling to his knees, his stomach rolled and he clapped a hand to his mouth, somehow keeping his food in.

"...Dean?" He tried again, using the desk chair to pull himself to his feet. Staggering, a frown on his face, he looked around their hotel room, which looked exactly as it had before Dean had left.

Left. Wait, he wasn't back yet? Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he started to slowly remember the moments before passing out. The pain, the complete and utter agony of having fire tear through his body, before the darkness had taken him under.

It had been night when that happened. Early on a Saturday night. Opening the door, the hunter winced and shielded his eyes. Bright sunlight flooded the area, but try as hard as he could, he couldn't see the car through his narrowed eyes.

"You okay?" A young girl, playing outside with a bright orange ball, looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. "Mommy said that you shouldn't go outside if you just woke up. Makes your eyes hurt. Did you just wake up, mister? But why? It's lunchtime!"

"Selene." A woman chastised, unlocking the door to a room next to theirs. "Stop being rude, baby." She looked over at Sam, smiling. "I'm sorry, sir... She's curious by nature."

"Its all right." Sam managed a smile back, "It's not a problem, really." It hit him just as she had gotten her daughter inside and was about to close the door. "Ah! Miss... May I ask what day this is?"

Looking at him a little strangely, and giving his appearance credit to the amount of beer he must have consumed, she grinned, a little slowly truth be told. "Sunday."

Sunday. Not saying another word, Sam turned on his heel and shut the door. So he had only been passed out for a few hours. Okay, more than a few. But why? He hadn't had a vision, and that hadn't been like any pain he'd felt before.

But more importantly, where was his brother?

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Grumbling in anger, Dean kicked mud off of his boots, cursing in every language he knew. Great. Just great. As if being in the ditch wasn't enough, he had to go and get mud all over his boots.

Hell, could this day get any worse? Slouching in his jacket, hands in his pockets, he fingered the car keys as he walked along the side of the road. No one had really passed by yet, or else he would have asked for a ride.

Fingers running through his hair, he passed the time with silence before he heard the unmistakable sound of a car and his head snapped up. Waving the dark blazer over, he was happy - extremely so - to see a woman jump out from the driver's side.

"Need a lift?" She said coyly, moving up to him. Her hair was dark, eyes darker, skin pale as ice. A perfect little Goth girl. "Or are you just walking down the side of the road for fun?"

Smirking, Dean chuckled. "A ride sounds nice. You don't mind going back from where you just came from?"

The girl smiled, and it sent warning bells off in his head. "Oh, I'm not going back." Her arm snapped up, and he was suddenly facing down the barrel of a Browning Hi-Power.

Fear slid down his spine, gripping him and squeezing. He had half a second to make a move, half a second to try and save himself, but he was half a second too late. He had been around guns since he was young, but never before had one sounded so loud, so ominous.

Dean went down to the ground, a messy bullet hole between his eyes as the woman calmly placed her gun back in her side holster and walked back to her car. Getting behind the wheel she looked out the window at the sprawled hunter before hitting the gas and speeding away.

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Having finally come to the conclusion Dean wasn't there, Sam pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, dialing the other's number as he tossed back a few Tylenol. It was the most he could find, and it did the job.

Listening to the phone ring, and ring, Sam frowned and hit the end button. He'd try him again in a minute, maybe he was on the phone with someone. In two minutes he called him again, and got nothing.

Ten minutes later he received the same treatment, and then thirty. Now getting the feeling something had to be wrong, he pulled on his shoes and the key to the motel room, stuffing it in his back pocket.

"Come on, Dean... Come on." He murmurred, locking the door as he hurried off. He didn't even know where to start looking. He looked around in irritation, phone held to his ear as he waited for the ringing to stop.

"This is Dean Winchester-"

Flicking the phone closed with his thumb, Sam's eyes narrowed as he stowed the phone in his back pocket. Dean better have a good reason for disappearing like this, because if he didn't, Sam was going to kill him.

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Gasping, Dean jerked forward, eyes wild as he clawed at whatever was holding him back, breath coming in short, ragged gasps that left his chest heaving and his heart pounding out of his chest.

Finally tearing the seat belt off, he looked around and tried to calm himself down, even when there was a voice in the back of his mind screaming 'run!' and 'hurry!' Fingers gripping the steering wheel hard enough he was past feeling the pain, he bit his bottom lip until it bled.

The blood helped to clear his head and within minutes he was breathing calmer, relaxing. However, with this new found calmness, pain set in. Pain that doubled him over, sent his hands to his head, almost as if he squeezed hard enough, the feeling would go away.

Music split the silence, his ring tone. It rang and rang until it faded, and all that was left was his ragged breathing. It happened again, and again, until he cursed and reached for it, if only to scream at the one on the line; tell them to stop with the noise, for it was killing him.

Picking it up, he hit the button, growling out a sharp, "What?"

And was met with a dead line.

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And there goes chapter two. I hope you all didn't think I'd kill off Dean-o in the second chapter did you? -gasp- that would just be horrible! Hehe.

The chapter title amuses me, too. Maybe its because I've had a lot of sugar, but really.

Where is Dean?

Where is Waldo?

-giggle-

I know. I'm an idiot.