Carry That Weight

VII

[Home]

Sam woke up with a jolt after dreaming of a blonde woman in her bedroom, screaming.

The next morning, Dean was on the computer, Sam was drawing a picture of a tree, and Peggy was drinking a cup of coffee.

"All right," Dean said. "I've been cruisin' some websites. I think we found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali -- its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas. Hey." Sam looked up from his drawing. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No. I'm listening. Keep going," Sam replied.

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." He waved his hand in front of Sam's face. "Any of these blowin' up your skirt, pal?"

Sam looked at his picture. "Wait. I've seen this."

"Seen what?" Dean asked as Sam got up from the bed and searched through his duffel bag. "What are you doing?" He found a photo of their family from when he was a baby and compared the photo to his drawing to see they were the same.

"Dean, Peggy, I know where we have to go next."

"Where?" Dean and Peggy asked.

"Back home -- back to Kansas."

"Okay, random," Dean said. "Where'd that come from?"

Sam showed the photo to Dean. "All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house. The house where Mom died."

"Yeah."

"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, the rebuilt it, right?"

"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but... the people who live in our old house -- I think they might be in danger."

"Why would you think that?"

"Uh... it's just, um... look, just trust me on this, okay?" He started to walk away.

Dean followed his brother. "Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me and Mae a little more than that."

"I can't really explain it is all."

"Well, tough. I'm not goin' anywhere until you do."

Sam sighed and his brother waited expectantly. "I have these nightmares."

Dean nodded. "I've noticed."

"And sometimes... they come true."

"Come again?"

"Look, Dean... I dreamt about Jessica's death -- for days before it happened."

"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." He sat on the bed.

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it 'cause I didn't believe it. And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted.

Sam sat across from Dean. "What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!"

"All right, just slow down, would ya?" He stood and started pacing. "I mean, first you tell us that you've got the Shining? And then you tell us that we've gotta go back home? Especially when..."