the prophecy, spn [ 1 ]

011. childhood home

The four are in their motel room, Dean and Thomas are sitting at the small table and looking for cases. Sam is sitting on one of the beds, resting back against the headboard and drawing. Rachel is lying next to Sam, playing with her hair while she watches Sam draw the exact same tree for the fourth time.

"All right. I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler off the coast of Cali -- its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." Dean looks at Sam who doesn't respond.

"Hey." Dean calls, only getting Sam's attention. "Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?"

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

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times." Dean says. Sam flips through his drawings. "Any of these things blowin' up your skirt, pal?"

"Wait. I've seen this." Sam realizes.

"Seen what?" Dean asks.

Sam gets up and grabs John's journal, flipping through it.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks. Sam finds an old family photo of the kids and Mary, comparing the tree in the background of the photo to the tree he drew.

"Guys, I know where we have to go next." He says.

"Where?" Dean asks.

"Back home -- back to Kansas." Sam states.

"Uh..." Thomas frowns.

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

"All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where mom died?" Sam asks, showing his brothers a family photo.

"Yeah." Dean nods.

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

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

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

"Why would you think that?" Dean asks.

"Uh... it's just, um..." Sam hesitates. Rachel frowns at him. "Look, just trust me on this, okay?"

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?" Dean asks.

"Yeah." Sam says, quickly packing his stuff.

"Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that." Dean says.

"That's all I need." Thomas shrugs, tossing the newspaper down.

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

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

"I have these nightmares." Sam says. Rachel sits up, a little afraid of where this could go.

"I've noticed." Dean says.

"And sometimes... they come true." Sam says.

"Wh-what?" Thomas stammers.

"Come again?" Dean asks.

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

"Sane people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Dean says, sitting on the empty bed.

"No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it because 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?"