Supernatural... But Better (Vol. I)

Chapter Thirty One

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FOR THE PURPOSES OF THIS STORY, EPISODE 1.08,
"BUGS", HAS BEEN REDACTED. THANK YOU.
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I was sitting on my bed, Dean with Sam on his. When we'd finally stopped at a motel and gone to bed, I hadn't had any nightmares— which was both awesome and... not. On the one hand, I'd gotten a good night's sleep for the first time in too long, and I'd actually woken up well-rested. On the other, one good night didn't necessarily mean there'd be others, and besides, my regular dreams weren't the best, either. More often than not, they made absolutely no sense whatsoever, and the previous night had been no exception. It had been almost Edward Scissorhands-esque, but gender flipped, with Lori as Edward and Sam as Kim, except the crowd chasing Lori away was a bunch of really old religious people carrying pitchforks and led by Reverend Sorensen. There was other stuff, and Dean was there somehow, but I could never remember all of my dreams, only bits and pieces. I didn't even remember how it ended, only that—

"Hey." I looked up, seeing Dean giving me an unamused look. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

I gave him a small, sheepish smile. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

Sam shook his head, poring over whatever he was drawing. "Don't worry, you're not missing much."

Rolling his eyes, Dean continued talking about... whatever he was talking about. "And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." He waved his hand in front of his brother's face. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?"

Ignoring him, Sam frowned at his drawing. "Wait. I've seen this."

I tilted my head, confused. "Seen what?" Not answering, he got up from his bed, going over to his duffel bag and searching through it. "What are you doing?"

Pulling out a frame, he compared it to his drawing. Leaning forward, I looked over his shoulder, seeing that he'd sketched out a tree — the exact same tree that was in the picture he'd gotten out.

Sam stood, turning back towards us. "I know where we have to go next."

His brother raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Back home— back to Kansas," he explained, coming over to sit next to me instead of his brother.

Dean breathed a laugh. "Okay, random. Where'd that come from?"

He held up the picture, which showed a woman, a little boy, a baby, and a man who looked oddly familiar, but he turned it away before I could take a closer look. "Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?"

"Yeah."

Sam nodded. "And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?"

Dean looked a little uncomfortable at that point. "I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but...." He took a deep breath. "The people who live in our old house— I think they might be in danger."

His brother raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Why would you think that?"

"Uh... it's just, um... look, just trust me on this, okay?" he said, moving to stand.

I put a hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back down. "You're going to have to do better than that," I informed him.

Looking from me to his brother, who was also eagerly awaiting his explanation, he sighed. "I can't really explain it, is all."

Dean stood, crossing his arms. "Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you do."

After a few moments, Sam nodded. "I have these nightmares," he began.

"No, really," I quipped sarcastically, making him laugh in spite of himself.

"And sometimes... they come true."

My eyes widened, and Dean was stunned. "Come again?"

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

His brother shook his head. "Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything," Sam contested, "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?"

Looking quite overwhelmed with the whole thing, Dean sat down again. "I don't know."

"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!"

He held up a hand, looking a little more annoyed than stunned. "All right, just slow down, would you?" Standing again, he began pacing. "I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when—"

"When what?" I asked gently when he didn't continue.

Stopping, Dean turned to look at me. "When I swore to myself that I would never go back there."

Sam stood, too, looking at his brother. "Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure."

Taking a deep breath, his brother nodded. "I know we do."

I looked up at them. "Is it weird that I'm a little excited? I mean, you guys got to see where I grew up, and now, I get to see where—"

"No," they said in unison, startling me.

They shared a look, and Sam cleared his throat. "Look. If this is what killed mom and Jess, then it's highly dangerous, and you shouldn't be anywhere near it."

"Besides, you're injured," Dean added, gesturing to my hands.

I raised an eyebrow, frowning. "Just because there's bandages on my hands, that doesn't make me an invalid. Besides, if I don't go with you, where am I supposed to go?"

"No, you'll come with us, you'll just stay in the motel room while we go and check it out."