Finding Home (10/?)

[nightspear]

Title: Finding Home (Main Post and Chapter List)

Rating: PG-13/R for language, mostly

Disclaimer:  Nothing you recognize is mine.  I gain nothing of materialistic value from this.

Pairings: Mostly gen.

Notes:

 Chapter 9

XXXXX

 

“So Mom dying...Jessica...it’s all ‘cause of me?”

 

~(“Salvation”)

 

XXXXX

 

“Sam, you’re really leaving?”

 

“I have to.  Jess.  Jessica.  I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.  I just with...we really had something going, didn’t we?”

 

“Yeah.  We really did.”

 

“I don’t know what to say.”

 

“...I’ll miss you, too.”

 

A brush of soft lips against his cheek.  He closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing her warm body against his own...

 

The warmth grew.  He tried to hold on, but the lips on his seek were hot, burning... 

 

He opened his eyes and heat rose all around him, fire climbing higher in a wall before him.  On the other side of the flames, Dean was splayed against the wall, wide-eyed with shock and mouth working soundlessly.  The fire reached higher, until it seared the ceiling.

 

He knew what he would see.  Unable to stop himself, he looked up, slowly.

 

“Why?” she asked.  “Why, Sam?”

 

XXXXX

 

Sam snapped his eyes open and sat up, gasping.  Dean, still lying in his spot on the floor, was watching him.

 

He sank back against the back of the sofa, still breathing too fast, heart racing.

 

“Vision?” Dean asked, his voice rough from sleep.  There was something odd in his tone that Sam couldn’t decipher.

 

He shook his head, pretty sure he wasn’t lying.  “Dream,” he corrected.  Dean opened his mouth to speak, and Sam quickly added, “I’m going to get something to drink.  Go back to sleep.”

 

Not giving Dean time to answer, he extracted himself from the blankets, his hands moving automatically to untangle and smooth them back into place.  He pushed open the door leading out of their room, stepped over the salt line, and closed the door again.  He doubted Dean would really be falling back to sleep, but it would certainly be a futile effort for himself.

 

Bypassing the kitchen, he stepped out the front door and slid down the side of the store until he was sitting next to the door, watching the rising sun.

 

It’s early, he thought, but his phone was against his ear before he could talk himself out of it.

 

One ring...two...three...

 

“Hello?”

 

There was no reason to feel so relieved.  He did, anyway, releasing a breath as he let his head fall back against the wall.

 

“Jess.  Hi.  It’s Sam.”

 

XXXXX

 

Dean stepped out soon after he’d hung up with his girlfriend (ex-girlfriend?).  His eyes flicked down to the phone still in Sam’s and.  He didn’t ask, so Sam answered, “Jess told them she didn’t know how the fire started.  She hasn’t told anyone about the demon, except Steve—my old roommate—when he got back to the dorm.”

 

“Do they have any idea what it really was?”

 

“Some electrical problem—that’s their best guess.  Although they’re still not sure how to explain the sulfur.”

 

Sam felt Dean’s eyes on him but didn’t look up to meet them.  “That’s what they said when Mom was killed.  Electrical problems.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Jess said...”  He hesitated.

 

“What?” Dean prompted after a few beats had passed.

 

“I’m...worried.  She’s talking about...”  He sighed, scratching the back of his head in frustration.  “She’s been really interested in demons and spirits and...and everything that goes bump in the night.”

 

“She has a right.  The girl’s been through a lot in a short time.  She’ll be safer, knowing how to protect herself.”

 

“That’s the thing.”  Sam shifted until his legs were stretched out straight in front of himself.  “I don’t think she’s just trying to protect herself.  I think she wants to get involved.  Like...really involved.  My roommate, too.”

 

He squinted at the horizon, terrified Dean would say, Good for them.  Kill some more evil sons of bitches.

 

Instead, Dean asked, “She say that?  Either of them?”

 

Worrying at his lip, Sam shook his head.  “No, not in so many words.  I just...I’m worried.”  Watching Dean out of the corner of his eye, he found his brother staring into the distance as well.  “I wish she—I wish both of them would stay out of it.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

Sam was surprised into looking up at him and asked, “That’s it?  ‘Me too’?  You always say this life isn’t so bad.”

 

Dean’s face hardened and he glared down.  “For us, Sam.  We were raised to do this; spent our lives training for this.  We know what we’re getting into.  And I’m sorry you had to lose your chances at your apple-pie life like that, but hell, we’re already so deep into this shit that...”

           

“We didn’t have a choice.  You never had a choice, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well I fucking have a choice now, and I’m choosing this!  You can’t...”  Dean exhaled forcefully.  “Look, man, I’m not stupid.  I know this life is dangerous.  Maybe we’re stuck doing this, you and me; I don’t really care.  But I know how you feel about Jessica.  I don’t want you—your  friends to get hurt.  So yeah, I hope they stay out of the goddamn way.”

 

Embarrassed at what he’d assumed about Dean, Sam nodded reluctantly.  “Yeah, me too.  I gave her the names of some books on warding—maybe we can ask Bobby for others, he knows every book on demons out there.  She said they’d call us if they hear about something suspicious.”

 

“Well, good.  They’ll stay out of trouble, then.”

 

“I guess so.”  For now.

 

“Will you relax for a minute, Samantha?  They’ll be fine; we’ll keep tabs on them if it’ll make you stop angsting about it.  Come on, lets get back inside.”

 

Sam lifted his head, frowning.  “I’m not going to lose it after a few minutes of not being under the influence of Joshua’s magic bag of herbs.”

 

Dean snapped back, “I didn’t say you were, Sam.  I just want to go in and fucking get something to eat.  Jesus.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“I’m not in the mood for one of your prissy fits.  You haven’t eaten anything since the day before yesterday at least, so if you say you’re not hungry, so help me...”

 

“Fine!  Fine.”

 

“Good.”  He stood as Dean pushed the door open.  “After you, princess.”

 

Joshua was awake, too, probably roused by the noise they’d made sneaking around the store.

 

“You boys hungry?” he asked, peering into the refrigerator.  “I don’t have anything fancy, but...”

 

“Starving,” Dean answered without so much as a glance at Sam.  “We’re not exactly expecting the Ritz, anyway.”

 

“Sorry if we woke you,” Sam  said, but the apology was waved off.

 

“Nah, doesn’t matter.  How’d you sleep?”

 

“Fine,” Sam replied.  Joshua gave him a long look, and it occurred to him how stupid it was to try to lie to a psychic.  It didn’t help that Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.  “No visions,” he amended.

 

Dean was wandering around the room, picking things up at random but looking at nothing in particular.  As Joshua cracked a few eggs into a pan, Sam watched his brother sit briefly, his leg jiggling restlessly, then stand again and pace.

 

Within minutes, they were seated at that same table again, Dean starting in ravenously on his eggs while Sam sipped at a glass of water and ripped apart a piece of toast with his fingers.

 

Joshua broke the silence.  “I should tell you first of all that this business is more complicated than you think.”

 

Dean chuckled nervously around a mouthful of bread.  “I don’t think that’s possible, Josh.”

 

He shrugged.  “You asked earlier if I’m like Sam, so here it is:  our abilities are alike, enough so that I can show you a few tricks.  But there are a lot of ways psychic abilities can manifest.  I can access people’s minds—it’s the most common form—but I don’t have premonitions, like Sam.  Some are telekinetic; others can exert influence on people around them...everyone’s a little different.”

 

Dean stopped mid-chew.  “Wait, just how many of these psychics are there?”

 

“It’s a rare thing, but not unheard of.  Some people  are just barely touched by their gifts and never even realize it.”

 

Sam couldn’t stop his disbelieving laugh.  “ ‘Gift’?  That’s what you call it?”

 

Joshua gave him an unsympathetic frown.  “It saved your girlfriend’s life; more than once, if I’m not mistaken.”

 

Chastened, if not completely won over, Sam looked away and cleared his throat, no longer bothering to ask how the man knew what had happened with Jessica.

 

“Now,” Joshua went on, “the main difference between us is that my abilities came gradually.  That’s what normally happens.  For you, Sam, something triggered the start of your visions, before you were ready for them.”

 

“Well, what?  What triggered them?”

 

“My best guess would be the demon that killed your mother.”

 

Sam’s stomach sank and he pushed his plate away, giving up pretense of eating.  “So I was right.  All of this...it’s tied to the demon somehow.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Dean said to Joshua in a low voice.  “You’re just guessing.”

 

“Dean,” Sam argued, “it makes sense.”

 

“Shut up, Sam—”

 

“No, you’re right,” Joshua broke in.  “I don’t know.  It’s just a guess.”

 

“Well, you’re gonna have to explain that one, Josh.  You sounded pretty sure for ‘just a guess’.”

 

“For you to understand it...  Let’s start with what you know about the demon.”

 

Dean scowled but answered, his words clipped.  “Not much,” he admitted.  “It starts fires.  Puts women on the ceiling and kills them.”

 

Joshua nodded.  “And not just mothers.  Sometimes it’s the father.  Sometimes there’s a fire, and no one’s harmed.”

 

‘Mothers.  The father.’  Not just women and men, but mothers and fathers.  A suspicion formed in Sam’s mind.  “They all had children?”

 

He nodded again.  “Yes.  They all had an infant.  The fire always starts in the baby’s room.”

 

Dean had caught onto the line of thought, too.  “Sam,” he warned, but Sam pressed on.

 

“And the children?”  His voice rose.  “They all survived?” 

 

They were all freaks, too?

 

Joshua looked away.  “Not all, no.  But most of them...yes.  At least at first.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean demanded.  “ ‘At first’.”

 

“A lot of them have died early for some reason or another in the past couple of years.  The pattern’s hard to ignore.  One of them was nineteen when he died in a school fire.”

 

Dean cocked his head.  “That’s...that sucks, but—”

 

“He set the fires,” Joshua interrupted.  “A witness says he spontaneously combusted when he was done.”  Dean’s eyebrows shot up, and Sam leaned back slightly, not expecting that.  “No one believed her, of course.”

 

“I wouldn’t have, either.  It sounds pretty friggin’ crazy.”

 

“And his mom died when he was a baby?” Sam asked, knowing the answer.

 

“In his nursery,” Joshua confirmed.  “Teachers, neighbors...everyone said he’d always liked fire a little too much.  There are others: A twenty-year-old college student told four classmates to commit suicide, then confessed and hanged herself.  Another kid, same age, claimed to be able to see the future; police arrested her for crimes she’d predicted, and she managed to kill herself in her cell while no one was looking.  An eighteen-year-old orphan said all of a sudden he could hear voices talking to him from people around him; he went completely nuts one day and was shot while violently resisting arrest.  And...”

 

“No, yeah.  I get the idea,” Sam said, releasing a shaky breath.  “God.  They...these kids...”  Kids his age.

 

“And they were all, you know...”  Dean gestured toward his head.

 

“They weren’t insane,” Joshua protested, “or weren’t at first.  Something drove them to...”

 

Kill people.  Kill themselves.

 

“I think Dean was trying to say, ‘were they all psychics?’” Sam said.  “Were they all like me?”

 

“It looks like it,” Joshua said.  “The eyewitness reports, the things they claimed to do...  It fits.”

 

“How do you know they weren’t just possessed, or haunted by spirits or something?  It would make sense, too.”  Sam couldn’t quite make himself believe it, though.

 

“Good question.  That’s what we thought at first—myself and hunters I’ve worked with,” he clarified.  “But the few times someone’s gone to check it out in time, it’s always the same:  no EMF, no cold spots, no sulfur residues, nothing.  A couple people I know have actually suggested the possibility of some supernatural ability in the children.”

 

“That’s why the demon went after them.”  Sam stared at the wooden table.  “That’s what happened, isn’t it.  The demon knew about them somehow—about us.  That’s why it attacked.  And it’s starting something.”

 

Both older men were watching him.  “Usually, I hear of three, four demons a year; there have been twice that in the past two months.  I think it’s safe to say that something’s starting, but no one knows what the demon’s agenda is,” Joshua said.

 

‘But...’ Sam heard unspoken,  ‘but...’ 

 

“But Mom dying...the demon sending a shapeshifter, and then finding Jessica and Dean and me in my dorm room, it’s all ‘cause of me?”

 

Dean slammed a hand down on the table.  “Dammit, Sam, I’m sick of this thing you keep tossing around at me and Dad.  We.  Don’t.  Know.”

 

“Oh, really?  ‘Cause I’d say we’re pretty damn sure, Dean!”

 

“For the last time, Mom’s death was not your fault, and neither is everything else that’s happened!”

 

Sam shut his mouth against the words that wanted to come out.  “Yeah, well,” he said, softer, “it’s still my problem.”

 

“If it’s got to do with this demon that put our family through hell, then it’s our problem!”

 

When he’d been silent for too long, Dean growled, “It’s not gonna happen, Sam.”

 

Sam tightened his grip on a glass of water.  “What are you talking about?”

 

“You’re not gonna end up like them.”

 

“How do you know that?” Sam said tightly.  “These people were...  Something pushed them so hard they went mad.  And I’m just like them.”

 

“You’re not like them—”

 

“I remember how it felt, Dean.  When I fell asleep that night and started seeing things that didn’t make any sense.  Hell, even when I woke I wasn’t sure what I’d actually seen and what I’d...seen.  It only took one night and I thought I was going crazy.”

 

“Well, you weren’t,” Joshua said firmly, speaking up at last.  “That’s likely what happened to those children I mentioned before, yes.  But they were alone, confused, too young to deal with something so sudden.  You know things they didn’t, you have advantages they didn’t.”

 

Sam kept his eyes on the glass and nodded.  “Was it like that for you?” he asked.  “When did you know you were...psychic?”

 

“I was...thirty, I think.  It wasn’t nearly as sudden for me, and I’d worked with hunters before, so I wasn’t quite so lost.  Still...what would you think if you started hearing voices that you knew weren’t coming from your own head?”

 

Sam took a moment to consider and said, “Yeah, I can see how that would be...”

 

“Disorienting?  Insane-sounding?”  Joshua shook his head.  “I got used to it.  To be honest, I still have trouble in large crowds or around strong emotion.  It’s why I don’t leave here much if I can help it.  I’ve gotten used to relying on herbs as a crutch.”

 

Raising his eyes in alarm, Sam asked, “They’re addictive?”  Dean sat up straighter.

 

“Not...really,” Joshua hedged.  “But you can develop something of a dependence on it.”

 

“Yeah, like an addiction,” Dean put in, shooting a glance toward Sam.

 

“Not like that.  It’s just...I never trained myself enough to...wean myself off them.  There was no reason to—I live here, I work here...I never really need to leave for long periods of time.”

 

Dean shifted, turning this over in his head.  “Okay, how is that not—”

 

“But I don’t have to, right?” Sam interrupted.  “I mean...  I can’t stay here forever, there’s stuff we need to...”  He scrubbed a hand through his hair.  “How fast can you teach me, Joshua?”

 

“It...depends on how far you want to go.  And these plants, they’re not rare or unusual—you can keep some with you—”

 

“No!” he said, repulsed by the idea of having to rely on something—however innocuous—for his goddamn sanity.  Then, calmer, “No.  We’ll stay just as long as it takes to stop this from knocking me over every time a vision comes, and then we’ll get out of your way.”

 

Dean’s gaze had moved to him again.  “Sam—”

 

“Dean.”

 

Joshua looked between the two of them, rubbed distractedly at his forehead, and finally nodded.  “It’s your choice.  We’ll see how everything progresses for a few days.  Go from there.”

 

“Thanks, Joshua.  Really.  Thank you.”

 

He smiled humorlessly.  “Don’t thank me yet, kid.  You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

 

XXXXX

Chapter 11