(So little really changed, save some dialogue.)

Unforeseen Future

Chapter Eight: Training

Sam ultimately turned down training. Last thing he, or his family needed at the moment was him hightailing it to Lawrence Kansas without them. So instead Missouri took a few days to help Sam (and Dean) learn how to brew a good relaxing tea for when a vision did occur, and sat down with Sam and taught him meditation.

He'd done yoga; once. When Jessica had persisted they should do it as a couple. His lengthy limbs were too uncoordinated for it though. Soccer he was king. Running back and forth across the field, and focusing his energy on kicking the ball in the goal wasn't too hard. But yoga had been the next thing to hell for Sam. He'd even smacked the guy next to him at one point. After that yoga was out of the question.

Meditation was somewhat similar. It was the same, focus on your breath bullshit, but without the stretching and cramping your muscles into ridiculous shapes. At first it was just as hard. The first day he'd done it, he'd thought about everything; Jessica, breakfast, the bug crawling across his foot. The second time he'd given it more attempt, with little results.

Missouri took off and left Sam the instruction to try. Meditation didn't only calm and relax body and mind, it also strengthened the mind. He'd continued doing it after Missouri had left, despite what he wanted. Dean tried to join him as a form of support, but Dean wasn't the sitting and staying calm type of guy. Even on a hunt when he needed to be quiet and still his mind was on the next seven things to do, and his muscles ready for anything.

It took a few more attempts, but finally it was taking effect on Sam. He'd focused on his breaths. It was just in and out. No dead girlfriend, no demon on his heels, just the steady breathing.

Once his father had finished bristling about their shit news about – everything, Sam had come to his father with the request. He wanted to hunt. John wasn't amused, and neither was Sam when his request was flat out denied. It took Dean jumping in to help. The next day he'd be up early and training with his family. Sam was both worried, but ready. He was taking care of himself and another step towards helping others.

DIVIDEDIVIDEDIVIDE

It was too pretty a day to be outside. The sun was out and warm, and the breeze cool. With no classes, Sam and Jessica had decided to go for a walk. Not only was the day beautiful. Jessica's hair was loose and blowing around her face. She was in a simple pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, but damned if she didn't look amazing in them. They paced slowly, stealing kisses throughout, walking through the campus coming across the field they'd shared many a lunch. The ring he'd been holding for the "right time" burned in his pocket.

He went to reach for it, but stopped. Up ahead his seventh grade teacher, Mr. Robinson, stood, a wicked smile curving his lips. When he widened his eyes they flashed and turned an eerie yellow. Despite the man looking sickly thin and exhausted, Sam knew he was a threat.

He shoved Jessica behind him.

"Oh, Sammy-boy." He sang out amused. "You cannot protect her. You cannot protect anyone."

Sam flinched when the man in front of him disappeared and he felt hands on his shoulders. Not Jessica's slim manicured hands. Calloused, boney hands slipped over his shoulder and into his peripheral vision. Sam inhaled sharply and spun around smacking the hand away from him. "Jess?"

"You can't protect anyone." His brother was now there, only it wasn't him. His muscular, strong, and obnoxious big brother was painfully thin, his eyes bleeding from the sockets. His shirt was of and Sam could see sharp lines of blood, and welts across his back and chest. His thin wrists were split open, and an ungodly amount of blood was spilling from them. "So, do your job Sammy."

"Dean?" Sam reached for his brother, but Dean stepped back fearfully.

"Do your job, and everyone stays safe." Dean continued. "Do your job."

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"Sammy!" Dean's voice turned frantic as more blood continued to pour from his wrist.

"Dean!?"

"Sammy!"

Sam inhaled sharply and sat up holding a hand to his beating chest. Sam exhaled slowly to calm himself and scrubbed a hand across his face. Only it was taking him a little longer for his heart to stop pounding.

"Hey, you okay?" Dean's voice snapped, as the lamp between the beds switched on. His big brother glanced worriedly at him. "You wouldn't wake up. Kept saying my name. I know I'm irresistible but that's kind of creepy given-"

-Sam could see things before they happened.

His brother instantly regretted what he had started saying. He'd been doing that a lot; apologizing for saying things that came first nature, but wasn't quite the right time. "Dude, I-"

"Don't apologize. You are right." Sam thought quietly wondering if he should mention the dream. Like Missouri said before. They could only help if they knew. But this wasn't a big deal, right? Not a vision, and it wasn't something his brother should know. "And no, it wasn't that kind of dream. Just a nightmare." Sam slipped his feet off the bed and bent down to retrieve the socks he'd taken off the night before. It was cold, and Bobby's home was both blessed, and afflicted with wooden floors.

"What kind of nightmare." He sensed Sam was holding back, and he wasn't sure why.

Why was Dean pushing it? It wasn't that big of a deal. "A nightmare. Like any other one I've been having."

Socks on, Sam reached for his Stanford hoodie. His heart was still going fast, and he needed to relax. He'd go downstairs, brew some tea, meditate a little, and see if he'd be able to get some shut eye before a tough training the next day.

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to calm down a little, maybe go over the notes a little more." Sam smiled reassuringly at his brother. "Just downstairs so my flailing ass, doesn't keep you awake."

"We've already poured over those." Dean scowled.

They had. Sam had after being reminded by all four of them, brought out the journal and they'd inspected each vision. A good number of them matched to children born the same year as Sam; all of them from different races, towns, and backgrounds. And they ranged. One had killed his wife in a jealous rage. Another had killed her girlfriend by accident. Then there were a few suicides. Sam remembered one where the girl's hand had been enflamed. At the time, he thought she was jumping in the river to put them out. Another had eaten his gun, and splattered the back of his head against the wall.

Then there had been the dreams that had no ties to the children. They all seemed to elude to what was a supernatural attack that one hunter or another had dealt with already. John even recognized one of Sam's dream's as his own when he hunted the Wendigo those weeks ago. Best way Sam could make sense of it was a warning of what was to come. Any future dreams were things he could prevent.

"Then- I'll- I don't know Dean. I'll just meditate or something…" Sam blew out an irritated breath, and scowled back at his brother. "Why don't you go back to sleep? One of us should be awake when training starts, might as well be you."

Dean purposefully ignored the alarm clock in the middle of their beds. No reason to go calculating the sleep he'd go missing. "You want me to brew that tea?" Even though it was phrased as a question, it was intended as a promise. He was going to brew that tea, whether Sam wanted him to or not. Maternal Dean showing his face.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, pretending he had some sort of power over it. "I'll be in the living room."

DIVIDEDIVIDEDIVIDE

One second Sam was driving his fist towards Dean's gut, and the next his arm was grabbed and twisted. Just as quickly as he was looking at Dean, he was on his back looking up at the shifting clouds making shadows on the ground. Sam wasn't hurt, but the air did leave his lungs rapidly. He was left breathing in deeply on the ground.

Dean stood above him hands on his hips, and a smirk twisting his lips upward. When he saw his brother had collected his breath, he extended out a hand to him. "You used to be better…"

"Sorry." Sam grunted as he got to his feet with his brother's help. "Stanford didn't really have a fight club." He drooped down and put his hands to his knees as he inhaled deeply.

It had been a while. Last time his dad had watched over the two brother's as they sparred was just before the hunt. Then his father hadn't been too kind. Even Dean had jumped in to end the session, and get the kid inside to tend to bruises. Now, his father was sitting back letting Dean handle the lesson.

"He got tall." John offered from the porch. Both boys looked up. "Sam's center of gravity is different than when you first taught him."

Dean nodded. It was small, but John was doing his part not to be overbearing but helpful. He'd been doing that for the entire session just dropping helpful tips every now and again as he saw the opportunity. It was tough too. Sam was rusty. At twelve he'd decided that he wasn't going to be a hunter. Sure, the kid had kept up his exercise routine, but his ability to fight was weak compared to his intelligence and endurance. Although the two would certainly help him hone his skill.

Dean squared off again and bobbed on the balls of his feet. "So, your trying to get a man down with limited moves."

"Jab at the throat." Sam replied a little tiredly. They'd been at this a while, but this was what he wanted right. He wanted to hunt, and he knew that not only would the people he cared about not allow him to go out without knowing he could handle himself. He knew too, how stupid it was to go out unprepared. Unprepared meant that you ended up dead. At least that's what his father had instilled in all his training.

Sam crouched down and went to attack his brother only to have end up on his back again. It had been a while, but Sam couldn't ignore the ache from the holes in his chest left by Constance. He could no longer ignore the ache from his nearly healed burned skin as the tight skin stretched. Dean noticed that Sam wasn't collecting his breath as quickly. Bobby stood up from his chair ready to jump in and stop the session. Dean put a hand out and nodded.

"Let's call it a day, Sammy." Dean offered as he put down a hand.

Sam wheezed as he took his brother's hand. This time he groaned more as he tried to get up. Once vertical he wasn't so steady and Dean put out a hand to help. "I don't want to stop. I need to-"

Dean stopped his brother. "You need to rest. You run, and exercise, but fighting- fighting is pulling on all kinds of wounds right now. I want to check on them anyways."

"If I'm hunting I need to learn to fight through the pain." Sam panted.

"You're not hunting yet." Bobby stated firmly. He held open the back door to enforce the idea that they were done.

Just like Sam had predicted they were all cautious with him. Just like Dean, his parents, Bobby and John, didn't find his revelation likable. Missouri before leaving had given them a few harsh words but after she'd gone they'd agreed. Just like that.

Sam sighed and walked towards the opened door. He wasn't getting out there any quicker with needless arguing. "We can stop, but I don't need medical attention. Nothing tore." Not a lie, the skin was healed, it was just tender skin that remained.

"I'm looking at the wounds, Sammy. Whether you like it or not." Dean snapped as he followed Sam into the kitchen. "And you are eating."

Dean had seated his little brother and was midway on a grilled cheese when he felt his phone vibrate. Dean pulled out his flip phone and stilled at the name. "Dad, I need you to take over here." Dean called out to his father.

John looked up from his book on lore and looked like he wanted to argue; up until he saw his son's almost stricken face. "Yeah, I got it. What's wrong?"

"I just gotta take this." Dean held up his phone and using his other hand tossed the spatula to his father.

John didn't get the chance to ask. Sam was tugging on a new shirt after antibiotic cream had been rubbed on the wounds, and missed his brother's face but read his tone. Before he could pull his head through the hole and check on Dean, he was out the back door.

"Cassie." Dean stated smoothly when he had the door shut behind him and the call picked up.

"You don't get to talk all smooth to me." She snarled from the other line.

So she had gotten his text. He'd sent the obscure we need to talk text, then when that didn't get the call he was expecting he'd sent the I don't think this is working out text.

"Look, I tried to speak to you and you refused to pick up your phone." Dean didn't take a tone with her, but part of him was mad. Mad that he had to do this. Mad that his lifestyle wouldn't allow for them to work out. Ever.

"Because I knew what you would do. Dammit Dean, I know the whole long distance thing is hard, but- I still want this dammit. I know you do too."

Dean shut his eyes. "I do." His tone was tense. He didn't know where this next part would go. He didn't want to see where this next part would go. She was a reporter, it was her job to find interesting stories and write them. But Cassie didn't see the world as it was, she always looked for similar patterns and placed them with real world answers, not correct answers. "I sent the reason, Cassie."

"And I got it." She snarled again and all Dean could think was how much he was going to miss her. "You think spouting some crazy ass story is going to make me break up with you. You know what? It fucking should, Dean. If you're willing to write a fictional story that far out there just to get me to leave, you obviously don't want me."

"Look I'm sorry, but you need to listen to me first." Dean urged. To her credit she did stop and listen. "Things do exist in this world. Bad things and I don't want you to get hurt. Only thing is I can't protect you from those things. Somethings out for our family, and it's already killed my mom, and my brother's girlfriend. I don't want you next. Nobody can get close to us."

"Screw you."

Dean ignored that. "I need you to keep my number." He broke her sputtering and insisted. "No, you need to keep it. You are a reporter, Cassie. I need you to realize that if a story is out there, sometimes the answer is too. Look into legends and lore and match them to stories. Once you realize watch out for strange things happening around you. Strange deaths, sounds, or people. If you don't ever feel safe, call me. I will be there to help you out. I just need you to call me."

"You know what Dean Winchester you can go fuck yourself."

The call was ended. Dean was left listening to the dial tone. God she'd been fantastic. He'd been so sure that she was the one too. But he couldn't risk her life. What Sam had said hit him hard. They couldn't have normal. They couldn't keep everyone safe. When he'd sent the text, he knew he'd end a year long relationship. One where he'd made the drive to see her many times, and each time it was like no time had passed. He was relieved though. At least she'd be alive and pissed, and not dead.

"I'm sorry." Sam had slipped outside without him knowing, and overheard too much of the conversation. He wasn't sure how much was heard, but any was too much. The kid already blamed himself for so much, and he didn't need to blame himself for Dean's relationship ending. said quietly breaking him from his thoughts and pulling the phone away from his ear.

Dean wiped at moisture he wasn't aware had been collecting. "Hey, when did you sneak out here?" Dean tried immediately for humor.

"Dean…" Sam stated awkwardly.

"Don't. It's not your fault. It's not any of our fault." He finally ended the call and put the offending device in his pocket. "Besides, she wouldn't have believed me. I would have spent so much time lying to her, and the second I would have spoken the truth about all of this…" She would have cracked him in the face. Besides he was getting tired of lying next to a woman he was lying to.

Sam remained quiet. Guilt reading very clearly on his expression.

"And it isn't your fault." Dean repeated. "It is dangerous to drag other people into our situation. However, we can be happy. I know that nothing we do will ever get Bobby away from us. And trust me we are annoying." He grinned wide. "Dad, he's always going to be there for us; misguided or not. And you and me; we always got each other's back. So it's not exactly perfect our little family, but we got it and it makes me happy."

"You don't want other things?" Sam asked his voice too small for someone his size. "You don't want normal things?"

"I don't know, Sam." Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't exactly see myself with a wife. Mowing the lawn. Helping a kid out with homework. I'd get tired of it, then I'd hurt whoever I'd brought in my life. No, I'm good. I am perfectly fine with what I got." He waved a dismissive hand. "Besides one bitch is enough."

"Jerk." Sam's tone picked up as he watched his brother push past him. The mood didn't improve any. It wasn't his fault. That's what everyone kept saying. Sam couldn't help but feel like it was. Things happened because of him, and that was just as bad. He sometimes figured that if he hadn't made it; the fire had consumed him like his mother had been consumed then a lot of people would be better off.

Dean looked back and saw his brother made no move to enter the kitchen again. Sam looked like someone had kicked him. Damn kid was probably kicking himself actually. Dean sighed and shot his arm through the door and jerked the surprised kid through the door way. "Stop it. I can see your gears turning, and you need to stop thinking so hard."

DIVIDEDIVIDEDIVIDE

Sam was panting by the time he'd accomplished it but he'd done it. His brother was on the ground panting about as hard as he was. Sam had enough sense though to step back and avoid the foot his brother shot out to unbalance the taller Winchester.

Sam offered a hand to his big brother and helped pull him up.

"Not bad, runt." Dean praised his little brother out of breath.

"Not bad? I knocked you on your ass." Sam chuckled.

His humor left thought as he looked to his dad. This would be the part where John would put in his own two cents. John however shrugged and smiled. "Nice job, Sam." No comment on how sloppy the motion was, no statement on how he could improve. It was an honest to god complement. John didn't dish those out easily.

It had been a while that they'd been training Sam. He'd already gone on multiple "camping trips" where he'd been left on his own only to track where his father and brother were, and to shoot at them, with a paint gun if any of them jumped out of the foliage. He'd had the same lessons on weapons rehashed, where he'd passed easily. He kept up on the skill, even stopped by a few shooting ranges whenever he got time off in school. The only thing he was a little slow to learn was the hand to hand. He'd been knocked on his ass more times than he could count, but he'd gotten up and dealt with the twinges of pain and fatigue.

It was hard but Sam contained his excitement. However, as he looked at his father and brother their faces looked more thoughtful and worried than anything else. "You still are going to say no though." Sam's tone was a little bitter. "Geeze dad, at twelve you were shoving me towards hunts."

"It's been some time since then, Sam." John scowled. "I was in a darker place then. I just want to make sure that your ready."

"And how else is that going to be if I don't get out there?" Sam snapped. "You keep saying intuition is something I'm missing. How am I going to get that if I keep playing paint gun with you in the woods, or if Dean keeps knocking me on my ass at home?" John and Dean remained silent and only further angered Sam. "I know more about those things and their weaknesses than you two do."

Dean wasn't sure what to do, or what to say. Ten years ago, Sam was fighting to not hunt. He would have done anything to avoid hunting, and now the kid was fighting to hunt. He had completely changed his tune. Dean was petrified of what could happen to the kid when he did go out and hunt. He had been petrified when Sam was headed to his first hunt. The kid could have gotten hurt, and sure enough he did get hurt. When they were left with Bobby he thought that his little brother was finally going to leave this world behind.

The Sam in front of him, with the bitch face, was resolute. There wasn't anything he could do to keep the kid from hunting, the only thing he could do was make sure the kid was breathing and alive by the end of the hunt.

"We'll all discuss it later, Sam." Dean interjected finally between his tense father and brother. "It's not an easy topic. For any of us. Last thing we want is you hurt." He held up his hands when his brother squared off his shoulders in anger. "Which can happen anywhere. I know, same argument as before, dude. Just know that we want you with all limbs, brain function, and working lungs for a good long time. It would kill Bobby if we let you run off and hunt only to get yourself killed." The 'and I love you and don't want you to die; ever' remained silent.

Sam deflated a little. "I got you."

"Good." Dean smirked. He opened his mouth to suggest lunch, but Bobby opened the back door.

The man's eyes searched out the yard until he spotted John. "Hey, John. You got a phone call."

"Who is it?" John padded back to the house. He scowled when Bobby smirked. "Who is- it isn't Missouri is it? What now? Did my dad disappear because he was a communist? Or was my mother actually a man, and she just shaved her legs and her face so frequently that I didn't realize?"

Inside John spotted the phone off the cradle and picked up phone from the counter. "What?" John blurted angrily. His face fell almost instantly. "Whoa whoa, what?"

Sam and Dean entered in time to see their father no longer angry, his face twisted in shock. Sam started to open his mouth in question but Dean put a hand to Sam's chests stopping the words. Sam looked to his brother in question but didn't demand any answers. He could tell from his father's face that another God-awful blow had been given.

"You have got to be kidding me Missouri!? Seriously, we left that place a long time ago. I promised-" John's shoulders tensed. "I promised my boy we'd never return. Not even if a pack of vampires were running free and snacking on anything with blood."

Dean's breath caught. He wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or Sam. For him though there were two places Dean refused to return to. Fort Douglas, Wisconsin; where he'd failed his brother all those years ago and nearly let him get killed because he was bored and wanted to play video games. The other was Lawrence, Kansas where he'd grown up for four years only to have his mother die and his home burned. Either one he didn't want to return to. And if he was referring to Sam, he didn't want to go there either.

"No, I get that a woman and her children's life are in danger, but-" John shut his eyes actually shut his eyes as he listened to what Dean assumed was Missouri chewing him out on the other line. "No, I get it. Give me seven hours. I'll go alone-" John paused and scowled. "What?! Why?"

"Where dad?" Dean sighed knowing Missouri wanted them to join him.

John put the mouth piece away from his ear. "Lawrence."

Even Sam paused. He'd heard about Lawrence. He'd heard stories about the life Dean used to live; before they were driven around the country by revenge.

"It's okay. If it's important, I'll go." Dean didn't hesitate.

"It's not just Lawrence, Dean." John roughly told Missouri to hold on and put the phone down on the counter. "It's our home. Apparently, it's picked up an unwanted guest."

"Poltergeist?" Sam questioned. He swallowed when he got a nod. He wasn't emotionally attached to the home. Hell, he'd never really spent much time there. He had no memories of his own of that place. The ones he was worried about now was his father and his brother. They went through every ordeal. With the proverbial rug pulled out from all of them about his mother's identity, going home would be just another blow against the only two who were aware of the severity of the situation all those years ago.

Dean scrubbed a hand against his newly shaven face. "If it's going after a family, I don't care. No one else can die in that house."

John studied his son. He really didn't want to go. His body was now stiffened and his jaw tensed. The kid was willing to go however; he'd sacrifice his own feelings so that someone would live. So, he'd do the same. He picked up the phone again and sighed. "We're coming."

(A/N: So if you could tolerate the story then why not leave a review. If you noticed anything wrong then please let me know.)