Seeing Tomorrow

Summary: Dean Colt is the best Homicide Detective LA has seen. Being a Mind Reader means he can get the job done fast and efficient. He's 26 and life is sweet. He has a girlfriend that he loves and loves him back and he has it planned down to the wire where life will take him. He's got his sweet ride too, a '67 Chevy Impala. What Dean hasn't counted on is crashing, quite literally, into a young man named Samuel Winchester who claims he can see and talk to the dead. Things start to fall apart after that…Eventual Sam/Dean, Dean/Lisa

Rating: PG 13+

Chapter 3

"So, ah, Eddy says we should get moving soon." Sam's voice broke through the silence in the room. Dean looked up to watch as Sam rummaged through a black suitcase filled with clothes.

"Eddy's your ghost friend, right?" It was rhetorical, the real question hidden underneath. Sam's raised eyebrow however told him he got it. Dean turned back to stare down at his shoes. He was curious about Sam. He had never met a person whose mind he didn't have easy access to, whenever he wanted. In fact, Sam was the first real, live Psychic Dean had the pleasure (or displeasure) to run into. He wondered how his ability worked, what the ghost's relation to Sam was, how he knew so much about the government when Dean didn't much give them much thought until just today. He wondered about Sam's story, his past life.

Sam shrugged as he packed up. "Yeah, I guess you can call him that. He saved my ass more times than I can count." He smiled at some past memories as he zipped the suitcase back up. "I know. I know what you're thinking. You think I'm one of those guys that should be helping putting spirits to rest, right? That if they're still stuck down here, obviously they got some unfinished agenda?" Sam snorted. Dean tried not to look too offended, even though that was exactly what he had been thinking.

"If that's not the case, then why is he still, uh, you know? A ghost?"

"Well, ah, see Ed's different. Kinda. Sorta. I mean, OK, he's dead. Yeah. But he was murdered."

"What?"

"I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, yeah, there are a lot of people that get murdered all the time but uhm." Dean almost felt bad seeing Sam look lost and all turned around on his thoughts, stumbling over his words. But he wasn't exactly making any sense and Dean was having trouble following his thoughts. Finally Sam just sighed and threw himself back on the bed, kicking the suitcase off the bed in his haste. He winced slightly.

"Oh come on. I knew you were lousy at explaining, Sam, hell, you even told me yourself but God, if I didn't see you in action I would have thought you were exaggerating but wow, the joke's on me, isn't it? I guess a fella really gotta do the work himself. Can't trust no one these days."

"Son of a bitch!" The new, unfamiliar drawl had taken Dean by surprise causing him to stumble back to the wall, green eyes like saucers as he stared at the ghostly apparition of the broad shouldered man sitting on the edge of the bed by Sam's feet. "I can, I can see you. Through you! Tell me…you're not actually a ghost are you? I'm going crazy, right?"

Sam heaved a sigh at the same time the man–ghost?–gave a dry chuckle. The apparition turned to face Sam but Dean could see him still watching Dean out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to get his breathing under control again. "Who is this chucklehead, mate?" The words loud enough for Dean to hear, but he didn't care, the room was spinning and he couldn't muster the energy to glare at him or anything. He was just trying not to fall down.

Sam rolled his eyes. "That 'chucklehead' happens to be the guy you told me to save. You know, Detective Dean Colt?" His voice was firm, scolding. To Dean, he looked slightly more apologetic. "Sorry, Ed here likes to show off. Like I was trying to explain to you earlier, he's different because he was a Psychic before he died."

"Still am," Ed exclaimed, turning back to Dean. "Sorry man didn't mean to scare ya."

Dean inclined his head as he accepted the apology. The room finally stopped spinning. "Whatever. You didn't scare me."

"Right." Ed grinned. "Then I guess we should get on with a more proper introduction. Nice to meet ya, Dean, my name's Benny Lafitte, but call me Ed."

"Not much of a 'proper' introduction if you already knew who I am," Dean grunted. Benny looked sheepish at that and Dean took it as a silent win. "How come you want to be called 'Ed' when your real name's Benny?"

Benny shrugged but didn't answer. Dean looked over to where Sam was lying instead, hoping to get the answer from him. He was far more intrigued by all this than he wanted to admit. "Ed is Benny's code name," Sam said. "He was an infiltrator before he got…caught." He left it at that though Dean's intrigue was even more piqued. Benny's face darkened through the brief explanation.

"So your Psychic ability…does it have something to do with how you can project yourself to me?" Dean asked, steering the conversation away.

He watched in quiet amusement as Benny blinked and Sam just gaped. Then to his surprise, Benny started to laugh. He stole a glance at Sam before grinning back at Dean like they had been best pals for years. "Smart fella you got yourself here, Sammy."

"Don't call me that," Sam said, an automatic response that made Dean raise a brow.

Benny snorted. "Oh come off it, mate. You know you secretly like that nickname."

"Not really."

The banter between the two men made Dean feel uneasy. It was obvious he was caught in the middle of a tender kind of relationship. They acted like…like brothers, like family. It almost made Dean's heart ache. But he wasn't sure why exactly. It wasn't like he was jealous or anything. He rarely thought of his own family anymore, not since getting a job in LA, meeting and falling head over heels for the girl of his dreams, Lisa…Lisa…oh shit. Dean suddenly jumped in the realization that he had to call Lisa and tell her what was up, call work and let them know something last minute had come up.

He was in the middle of taking out his phone to speed dial Lisa's when another realization struck him in the guts. Oh God, what the hell was he supposed to say to her? What the hell kind of excuse was he supposed to make up to his girlfriend and his boss? Not realizing he was pacing in the room like a madman, too caught up in his own inner turmoil, Dean nearly tripped over the chair.

"Dude, calm down," Sam called from the bed, having watched silently for a few minutes as Dean paced like a caged animal, but finally fed up. He got up quickly when he saw the detective about to fall back on his ass, catching the flailing limbs just in time. He shook his head in amusement. "What would you do without me?"

"I dunno, land on my ass all the time?" Dean retorted. "You can let go of me now, I promise I won't break."

"Alright, alright…just chill out. I'll let you go. There. Feel better?"

"Yeah, much," Dean said. Then he hung his head and sighed. "Actually no. Not really."

Sam nodded like he already knew. He studied Dean carefully. "What's got you so freaked out now?"

Dean shrugged and looked back down at his phone. Would it be better to just suddenly fly off the radar or call Lisa and let her know he was going to be OK? His hand clenched tightly on the phone. What if the police showed up asking for Dean? He looked helplessly at Sam trying without words to convey his predicament.

Much to his surprise, Benny was the one who figured out Dean's crisis. "Call her. Let her know something, just you know, not the truth."

Dean swallowed the bile back down his throat. "What if someone shows up at her door one day and asks?"

"Well it's not like they can really interrogate her if she doesn't know anything," Sam responded.

"But they won't know that. They'll try," Dean insisted, biting his lips. "And what about my office? What am I supposed to say to my boss?"

"No," Benny snapped. "Don't call into work."

"Why the hell not? It's my fucking job."

"How do you think they were able to track you down to that traffic light?"

"What?" Dean's eyes widened as he dropped his phone in astonishment. It hit the floor with a loud clatter.

Sam sighed and went to fetch two beer bottles. He handed one to Dean and opened the other before chugging it down in one fluid motion. "Ed used to be a detective like you, Dean. He worked in the same building for almost a decade, knows it inside out really. He also knows the people there." The man paused and Dean knew without a doubt what he was going to say next. "He knew you."

"Benny Lafitte," Dean said under his breath, trying to remember someone on his floor with that name.

"Benjamin Lafitte the third," Benny supplied.

There it was. The name made sense now, it finally clicked. He remembered a Benjamin. He even took a few cases with the guy. How in hell had he not realized it? It didn't make sense. Dean stared at him in shock. More importantly, how come Dean never noticed he wasn't the only Psychic in the department? "What the hell dude? I can't believe I never realized you've been in my division for the past couple years," Dean exclaimed.

Benny winced. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that," the ghost said gruffly. "It's uhm, my gift."

"What's your gift? To stay unnoticed or something?" Dean asked incredulously. He was slightly unnerved by the lack of response when suddenly Sam started to chuckle, then let loose full-on laughter. Benny stayed stock still. "You're not shitting me? That's really your so called power?" It amazed him when he still got no reply or even a glare.

"Good God, this is hilarious," Sam guffawed. "Ed's got to have one of those useless Psychic abilities I've seen."

"What's so useless with being able to turn invisible?" Dean asked. "It's got a lot more perks than downsides if you ask me."

"He can't even do that, you know, turn invisible."

"What? Really? Is that true? Then what can you do?"

Benny sighed looking more embarrassed than a ghost should look. "It's like…OK, think of a Chameleon, blending with its surroundings."

Dean gawked at him as the words sank in. "You like blend in with walls and stuff?" He tried to imagine Benny the same color as the motel wallpaper or the wooden creaky floor.

"No! It's not like that. It's not that…lame."

"It really is though. Maybe even lamer," Sam cut in.

"So what can you do?" Dean repeated, thoroughly confused now.

"Yeah, Eddy, tell him or I will."

Benny scowled but mumbled, "I kind of, uhm, can make people forget about me."

Dean blinked at the quiet confession. Make people forget? That wasn't as bad as he thought. "Like, you uh, wipe their memory or something?" Memory wiping. Yeah that wasn't so bad. In fact the more he thought about the idea, it seemed cool. A lot cool actually.

"Or something," Sam interjected before Benny could reply. "It'd be pretty sick if he could actually control it."

Oh. Well…that sucked, Dean thought. And yet it made sense in a way that Dean didn't remember Benny until he said something about it. He blinked as he thought some more. "So is there some sort of rule? Like do you have to touch someone to make them uh, 'forget'? Or what?"

"Yeah I gotta touch them most the time," Benny admitted, "but sometimes it's enough just to stand a few feet away."

"That…sucks," Dean said. "I mean the power in general is awesome, just the not being able to control it thing sucks."

The ghost shrugged. "Good thing I'm more the solitary type."

"Liar," Sam said. "If that was true you wouldn't have come to me."

"Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate."

"It's true though. You can't get enough of me or else you would have already found another Psychic to cling to by now," Sam insisted.

"I've had too much of you, you mean," Benny said, then paused before adding, "and I don't cling. Ghosts don't cling!"

Dean had to laugh at the brotherly banter they had going. It was obvious to anyone the two were really close. He wondered briefly how they met. "Ed had been suspicious of Adam for months before his death," Sam suddenly said, reading Dean like an open book.

Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise, then screwed his face in thought. "Adam? You're not talking about Adam Milligan, are you?"

"The one and only," Benny said.

"Shit. That was my last partner. We were working on this case about a supposed 'double suicide'."

Benny nodded like he already knew. He probably did, Dean realized. He was a ghost. It was easy for someone like him to get around without people noticing. Benny could have easily tailed Dean all week, or maybe months. He ran to the bathroom and shut the door, taking a few deep breaths at the sink. He could hear the two men talking to each other, their voices hushed so Dean wouldn't be able to eavesdrop. Not that he really wanted to.

This was too much. He barely knew these guys. They were both Psychics and one happened to be freaking dead. Dead. "What the hell are you getting yourself into here man?" he asked his reflection. He sighed and flipped the water on, washed his face and dried off with the towel dangling from the door. He stepped out feeling more composed.

Sam gave him a once over. "You feel any better now?"

Dean hesitated before nodding.

"Great. I mean I know all this is a lot to take in."

"Yeah. Right. I uh, gotta make a call." Dean picked up the abandoned phone and flipped it open. "To Lisa. Just Lisa. Not work."

"OK." Sam nodded once, trusting Dean's word.

Benny shrugged pretending he didn't care but Dean saw the way his shoulders tensed. He didn't fully trust Dean but it wasn't like he could stop him if he changed his mind, Dean realized. The only person that could physically stop Dean from calling in was Sam. But Sam seemed to have faith in Dean and he wondered why. "Not like I can stop you if I wanted to," Benny said.

"Just Lisa. I promise," Dean said. He didn't wait for a response, just pressed the speed dial #1 to his girlfriend's phone. He held his breath as he heard the rings on the other end, waiting for her to pick up. Finally she answered.

"Is this Detective Dean Colt?"

Shit. It wasn't her. It was an unfamiliar low pitched male voice on the other end and Dean suddenly panicked. He snapped his phone closed and looked at the men with wide eyes. Sam let out a groan in exasperation. Benny wore a blank look on his face.

"I-I'm sorry," Dean stuttered as Sam picked his one suitcase and began to haul it to the door wordlessly. "They got to Lisa so quick. I didn't realize."

"It's fine," Sam said curtly, fumbling with the door.

"What? No it's not! They probably traced the call to here," Dean said as he went to take the suitcase from Sam as the other man swung the door open after he unclasped the locks.

"It's really fine, Dean. You didn't really think we'd come here without a plan, did you?"

"Plan?"

"Look, this motel isn't base or anything. I just wanted a temporary place to get you up to speed so you wouldn't think I was kidnapping you or something," Sam said as they walked down the hall.

Dean took a deep breath through his nose, trying to process all this. It felt surreal. He almost believed he was dreaming some weird 007 James Bond movie. If they ever got a break he was going to laugh his head off. He was going to drink himself stupor and just laugh everything away. Sam must have sensed his near mental breakdown as he glanced back worriedly at Dean. They made it to a white Chevy before Dean realized something was missing. He glanced around for Benny but couldn't see him anywhere.

"Where's your friend?"

Sam pulled up the trunk and stuffed the suitcase in before closing it back. He gave a cursory glance around before he shrugged and hopped into the driver's seat. Dean took shotgun. "Oh he's around. Don't worry."

Dean sighed. He wasn't really worried, just curious. They backed out the parking lot as Dean got more comfortable. "Where we heading? Let me guess, this is the part where you admit you're the leader of some underground rebel group and we're going to meet up with them?" Dean joked.

"Uhm…" Sam's cheeks darkened with a blush. "Sort of."

Dean sighed as he leaned back in his seat. Yeah, he was definitely down the rabbit's hole at this point. He focused on the road ahead. "So…where to?"

"South Dakota."

"That where your rebel group's at, huh?"

"Yeah. Mostly. Bobby too."

Dean fell silent after that as Sam drove them out of California.