A/N: So I bet you thought I was gone, huh? I was, and still partially am. However, here is a little teaser to hold you over until the next chapter, which I do intend to be longer and am starting right now. For those new adds: welcome! For the new reviewers I have neglected to thank: I am sorry, and thank you so much. I hope to attend to all the new comments (over four months old – lol) shortly.
The brothers slid into the booth at Granny's, sending their orders away with Ruby. Sam had fallen into silence, staring blankly at the table. They'd made it through the morning talking about what Sam was seeing, trying to determine if there could possibly be an explanation. His visions were normally about the future, things that might possibly happen, yet what he was seeing was clearly something in the past. Dean had seen the exhaustion that weighed on his brother's shoulders, and had suggested they leave for lunch, hoping a little fresh air and food would do the younger man some good.
"It's gonna be alright, Sammy," Dean murmured.
Sam clenched his hands together on the table in front of him, shaking his head.
"What? What is it?"
"Getting worse," he whispered, forcing himself to make eye contact with Dean. "Something...something isn't right here." He hid his face in his hands, trying to keep the tremble that coursed through him from showing.
"What do you mean...worse?" he leaned forward, grasping Sam's forearm. "Dammit, Sammy. Talk to me."
Dean's voice seemed distant, as if it were echoing down a long hallway. Sam's vision dimmed and he grew dizzy, feeling as if he were reeling on his feet despite being firmly planted in a seat. He grabbed the edge of the table, willing his vision to settle, his breathing labored and shallow.
"Sam?"
"'Slike 'm seein' two places...at the same time," he managed weakly, his words slurring together as if he'd been drinking. "Ev'ryone...ev'rything...constantly shifting." He looked up, locking a desperate gaze with his brother. "'m dizzy, Dean..."
Worry seized Dean and he stood, tossing a twenty on the table before hoisting his brother to his feet. Avoiding the questioning eyes of those in the diner, he pulled Sam outside, finding himself having to support most of the larger man's weight. "Gonna have to help me here, Sam."
Together, they managed to make it back to their room where Sam collapsed on the bed, pale and shaking, a fevered sweat dampening his brow.
"That got bad fast," Dean said, taking a seat beside his brother. "You sure this isn't Lucifer?"
"No," he panted, "that...always...feels real. This...feels like 'm losin' my grip on reality."
They lapsed into silence, Dean retreating to his thoughts as his mind raced through the limited possibilities of what could be happening. The list of what they knew was small. Maybe, he thought, they'd finally bitten off more than they could chew. He couldn't help but think of Bobby, needing guidance and answers that he'd never be able to help with again.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, ignoring the tears that stung his eyes. "So there's clearly something here that's messing with your brain,...but it's not Lucifer," he said aloud, pushing up out of his seat to pace at the foot of the bed. "I'm guessin' some sort of hoodoo could maybe...I dunno...reactivate your visions or somethin'...If that's true, then we could be in way over our heads, man. I mean, the only thing we've dealt with that could get inside your head...was Lucifer."
He jumped as someone knocked on the door, his hand automatically reaching for his gun. Sam forced himself to sit up.
Dean went to the door and cracked it open, peering at their guest. He smiled, opening the door wide. "Hey, Ruby."
She smiled back, holding up a take-out bag. "Everything okay? Your brother didn't look all that great. Granny bagged up your dinner for you."
Dean took the bag and sat it on the table. "Yeah, everything's good. Sammy just had a bit of a headache. That's all."
"Oh." She smiled slightly at Sam, her eyes sweeping over his face in apparent worry. "We've got some aspirin at the desk. Want me to bring some up for you?"
"No, no. I'm fine," Sam insisted, "but thanks. Thanks, Ruby."
"Alright, then." She threw a wider smile at Dean, stepping back, her hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans. "Let me know if you need anything else." Turning on her heel, she sauntered off, the sound of her boots echoing down the hallway.
Dean slowly closed the door and grabbed the bag off the table, depositing it on the bed beside his brother. "One thing's for sure...Dunno what weirdness is goin' on here, but they sure are friendly."
They ate in silence, Sam seeming to perk up a bit as he got some food down. Dean polished off his burger, sighing loudly in appreciation as he tossed the wrapper in the trash.
"Right," he stood, patting his stomach, "I guess you should stay here and try to make some sense of what you're seein'. I'll go check out the kid,...do a bit of snoopin' around. Anything funny happens, you call me."
Sam held up his phone, nodding. He wasn't ready to argue about going. After his brief trip to the diner, he was more than willing to stay in the only room that appeared to be stable.
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Dean made his way back to the diner and slid into a seat at the counter. He smiled at Ruby as she made her way behind the counter to stand in front of him.
"Pick your poison," she greeted.
"The strongest stuff you've got," he replied, propping himself forward on his elbows, "and make it a double." He soon found himself nursing whiskey and downed it, sitting the glass down on the table a little harder than he meant. He smiled apologetically and slid the glass back to refill. "Thanks."
"You normally drink this early?" She sat the bottle down on the counter.
"Only when I need to think...or function...or...yeah, I'm probably an alcoholic."
She chuckled, giving a quick glance around the diner before leaning forward over the counter, propping up on her elbows. It was quiet in the diner. "So, what really brings you into Storybrook? You and your brother...you don't seem like the tree-hugging types...and what exactly was that with Sam earlier? Is he alright?"
"Sammy?...Yeah, he's fine." He looked down at his glass, swirling the whiskey absently. "At least...at least I think so. I mean, God knows we've been through a lot and we don't...don't really talk to each other. My fault." He smirked, shaking his head. "No chick flick moments." He downed the drink, lowering his glass slowly from his lips, a confused look crossing his face.
"What is it?" she queried quietly.
He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. It felt so natural talking to her, and that was something he'd missed, something he hadn't had for a very long time. He'd almost said too much, and spooking the locals was the last thing he wanted to do. "Figured the best thing for Sammy would be some fresh air, ya know," he supplied instead, worrying the glass in the palm of his hand, "and now we're here."
She took the glass from him and filled it again, resting her hand over his as she sat the drink down in front of him. "We don't get to meet a lot of new people here,...guess I'm just a little curious." She smiled apologetically and stepped back. "If you're planning to be here a while...maybe seeing Dr. Hopper would do you some good. He's just across the street."
"Dr. Hopper...?"
"Shrink."
"Ah." He glanced through the window.
"Not saying it's what you need. We all lose our way from time to time. Emma...Sheriff Swan, she just set me straight myself." She nodded toward the glass, "on the house."
He watched her walk away before downing the whiskey and heading out of the bar.
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Sam sat at the small table, his head in his hands as he forced the memories of what he had seen to the front of his mind. He analyzed them, looking for familiar scenery and landmarks, memorizing faces as he tried to make sense of what was happening to him. Was this two planes fighting to occupy the same time line? With all the time travelling they'd done, he found it hard to believe it couldn't be possible. He brushed aside the thought. There had to be a more simple explanation.
They had passed through the barrier that rested around Storybrook. It could have been a side-effect of the magic, affecting him because of his demonic blood. That would explain why it was not affecting his brother. If it was a side-effect, then there had to be a cure. Someone, somewhere in Storybrook was using magic.
He exhaled shakily, the light assaulting his eyes as he blinked them open slowly. The room was still stable and he'd regained a bit of strength, adrenaline kicking in as he'd determined his course of action. He needed more evidence, he needed to know more about the other side, and the only way to do that was to face it head on. Sighing, he picked up his phone and pushed his way to his feet, satisfied to find his footing was sure.
Pulling on his jacket, he left the room, taking a deep breath of the fresh air as he pushed through the front door. The midday sun was warm on his face and the air was cool and refreshing. The town was more active now, more vehicles driving slowly down main street, shoppers leaving the local stores, everything the small town life should be.
It took only moments before his vision began to slip again and he slammed his eyes closed, knowing he needed to get to a place where he could observe everything before he collapsed. He didn't want to draw undue attention to himself. Daring a quick glance, he took in the area around the inn and made a quick decision, stepping onto the grass and moving purposefully toward a large oak that offered him the perfect place to sit and still be able to observe a good part of the town. The few glances he'd stolen had taken it's toll, and he nearly fell against the tree in exhaustion. The trunk was sturdy and he lowered himself to the ground, resting back against the ancient giant.
This was the best spot he could have chosen, he decided. Dean wouldn't have to carry him far when he got back. He knew he probably wouldn't be conscious long after he let the visions start. Slowly, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the audio recorder, opening his eyes wide to the world around him.
tbc...