𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛[𝙳.𝚆]

066

"It's you, Jennifer." A distant voice calls. I feel myself pinned down to an operation chair, hands and feet confined in leather cuffs. The room's pitch black, so I'm not able to see a thing. I jerk around and struggle to get loose but it does no good. "You're the one." The person calls again. I whip my head to the side in the direction of where the voice is coming from. But, I don't find anything. The sound of shoes hitting against the floor as the person walks around echoes throughout the dark room.

"Who are you?" I call out sternly, trying to pinpoint where they are.

"It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is what I can do."

"And what is that?" I spit, glaring into the dark.

"Bad things. Things you'll come to do yourself in the future."

"What sort of things?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously. I keep trying to weasel my hands out of the cuffs as I speak. "Are you even human?"

"My, my..." he tuts, suddenly next to my ear. I jump at the sudden close presence.

"So many questions." I feel a hand run through my hair. I look up and see the shadow of a figure. I couldn't make out his face but one thing stuck out. One thing that looked oddly familiar.

Yellow eyes.

"All in due time, princess. Just remember...you're special, just like the rest of them. Better than the rest of them." He winks at me.

My eyes snap open, almost robotically. I sit up in my bed, breathing heavily, and an arm falls down into my lap. I look down at a sleeping Dean for a second then to a stiff Sam on the other bed, in the same position as me. He's covered in sweat and he looks like he just woke up as well, staring at me with wild eyes.

"Someone's gonna die." Sam says shortly, turning on the light.

"What?" I ask, eyes wide.

"Dean." Sam calls, shaking his arm hastily. He jolts awake with a grunt, all disoriented. Sam quickly gets out of bed and heads for his bag.

"What are you doing, man? It's the middle of the night." Dean points out gruffly, resting back on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around my waist again sleepily and even in the midst of all the confusion, my heart still jumps a bit at the feeling.

"We have to go." Sam rushes out. I, too, climb out of bed and begin to pack what little I took out. Dean just stays in bed and looks at us with sleepy confusion.

"What's happening?"

"We have to go...right now." Sam repeats, picking up his halfway zipped duffle bag and keys to the Impala before speeding out the door. Dean looks at me, puzzled.

"He said someone is about to die. I think it's another vision." I explain, zipping up my own duffle before moving onto packing Dean's stuff. My movements are fast and brisk, not wanting to keep Sam waiting. Dean immediately jumps out of bed at the mention of Sam's premonitions and quickly helps me finish packing everything else. Skipping out on brushing our teeth and using the bathroom manages to get us on the road again in under three minutes.

Sam briefly fills us in on what the hell is going on after telling Dean to drive for Michigan. Apparently, he dreamed about someone dying from carbon dioxide poisoning after being locked inside their car in a garage. It was awful, truly, but it wasn't the main thing on my mind. Sam had his dream, I had mine.

I didn't know what to think, what to do, whether or not I should tell the boys. I was internally freaking out, shivering at the memory of his eyes on me, his hand. I hated it. I hated it so much. Everything he said kept playing over and over again in my head.