She tried to make herself calm down, not understanding where the feelings of panic and anxiety were coming from. Every time she thought about home, she felt the overwhelming urge to turn her car around and follow Dean and Sam, which she knew was absolutely ridiculous. She thought about her earlier feelings before Sam’s visions. She hadn’t looked forward to saying goodbye, but she chalked that up to her curiosity about the brothers’ lifestyle, an unwillingness to leave behind friends, and her growing interest in Dean himself. It wasn’t until after Sam’s vision in the motel room that the feeling had started to grow, until it turned into outright panic. Chloe had thought it was simply not wanting to leave the brothers behind, but it was more than that. Every time the panic grew, her mind focused on the brothers’ current destination; Laramie, Wyoming.
Sam’s vision had included flashes of a motel, the Laramie Sunset Inn. Apparently, the boy in trouble was going to be shot somewhere on or near the motel grounds. Chloe knew that was where Dean and Sam were headed, that they would probably get a room there and try to work out how to find and save the boy. What she didn’t know was why she felt such a strong need to be there herself.
I need to go home, get back to the usual routine, have a cup of coffee, she thought, willing herself to believe it. But the feeling of anxiety grew again, and bile rose up in her throat, threatening to choke her. Screw it, she thought to herself, and changed lanes so she could turn the Jeep around. Home could wait for a few more days.
----------------------------------
Dean looked over at Sam, who was slumped on the passenger side, looking out the window. “We should be in Laramie in about an hour or so.”
“Sounds good,” Sam replied.
Dean frowned. Something was bothering him, something about Sam. He looked over at him again. His brother was being his usual non-talkative, moody self; nothing new. Except, non-talkative and moody were usual for their normal treks across the country, not when they were supposed to be racing to head off one of his visions. Usually Sam would be pressing him to go faster, worrying out loud that they wouldn’t make it in time, or just generally giving off waves of anxiety.
“Sammy, you doin’ alright?”
Sam looked at him, a little puzzled. “Yeah, Dean, I’m fine.”
Dean nodded his head, accepting it. Sam was fine, no need to push. Except… “You sure? Because normally you’d be crawling the walls in here, asking every five minutes, ‘are we there yet?’”
Sam frowned. “I guess…I mean, when I have a vision, I always need to get to that person, or whatever I see.”
“Because you want to help them.”
“Yeah, because I need to figure out the vision.”
“Because you want to help them.”
Sam began to get frustrated. “Yeah, I said that already.”
“No, I said that already. I keep saying “want”. You keep saying “need”. Which is it?”
“It’s both, alright? When I have a vision, I want to help the person. And I need to help them, I feel a…a compulsion to get to where the vision is.”
“Do you feel it now, a compulsion?”
Sam thought about it. “No, I mean I want to get there and stop this guy from getting shot, but I don’t feel as anxious about it as usual.”
“Huh. Wonder why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m getting more used to the visions, maybe they’re not affecting me the same way.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we there yet?”
“I’m gonna hurt you, Sammy.”
---------------------------------------------
The brothers sat on their respective motel beds, Sam searching local online newspapers for any clues to his vision, while Dean cleaned his guns. He set the completed and loaded handgun on the nightstand, then started working on another. They had checked in to the Laramie Sunset Inn almost three hours ago, rolling their eyes in disgust as they entered the dingy room. Dean had been sure this was the worst motel they’d stayed in recently, noticing the layer of dust and grime across the entire room. No wonder there were no other guests here. The innkeeper had snorted when asked about their “family friend” around Sam’s age, who was supposed to be meeting them there.
“Ain’t no one been here in a few days. I’m closing the place up next month, for good. No one cares about a family-run operation anymore, they just want to stay at them big chain hotels.”
Good riddance, Dean thought. This place is a menace to honest travelers. The thought of himself as an honest traveler nearly cracked him up, and he chuckled to himself.
There was a knock at the door. Both boys’ heads looked up, staring at the door, then they looked at each other. They had paid cash for the room, and even if it hadn’t been too late for housekeeping, it was unlikely such a service existed in this motel. No one else knew they were there. Dean nodded for Sam to get the door, then picked up his handgun from the nightstand and held it out of view. Sam checked the peephole in the door, and his head jerked in surprise, causing Dean to stand up from the bed and click the safety off. Sam looked back at him and shook his head, and hissed one word at him. “Vision.”
Dean turned to the side a little, hiding the gun beside his leg as Sam opened the door to show a young man, about Sam’s age, but slightly shorter than Dean, standing there quietly. “Hi, can I help you?”
The young man took in Sam’s face, and his eyes widened. “Uh, yeah, hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you…but…well, I don’t know how to explain…” His eyes darted around, clearly very nervous.
Sam opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”
“Uh…yeah, okay.” He stepped into the room slowly, staring at Sam, while Dean clicked the safety back on his gun and slid it into the waistband at his back.
Sam closed the door and looked back at the visitor. “I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean.”
“I’m Keith. Keith Watson.” His eyes darted to Dean, then back to Sam. “Listen, this is going to sound crazy; but I think you might be in danger.” He looked at Dean again, and cocked his head, as if listening. “Everyone always thinks I’m crazy,” he muttered, more to himself than out loud.
Sam frowned. “Why do you think I’m in danger?”
Keith’s head snapped back to look at Sam, as if he had forgotten about him. “Uh, well, I had a premonition, sort of, and you were here at this motel, and a guy shot you in the head.”
Dean strode forward, eyebrows high in disbelief. “Wait, you had a vision that Sam gets shot?”
Keith jumped back a little, seemingly spooked by Dean’s tone. “Premonition, vision, whatever, yeah, he gets shot, okay?” He turned his head back at Sam, but his eyes continued darting around. “Look, just stay away from people with guns for the rest of the night, okay? I…uh…I’ve got to go.”
Sam put out a hand. “Wait, Keith. Listen, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I have visions too. The reason we’re here is because I saw you in my vision, and you were shot.”
That really did seem to spook Keith, who jumped back, eyes wide. “You…you have visions?” His eyes turned inward for a moment, and he muttered again. “They didn’t tell me that.”
Dean frowned. He did not have a good feeling about this guy, who, visions or no visions, seemed a little nuts. “Who didn’t tell you that?”
He watched as Keith’s face became suspicious, staring at him, then at Sam. “No, you’re wrong, you get shot, not me. You have to get shot. That’s the way it works. They’re always right.” His voice had gotten louder with each sentence, until he shouted the last one, then lunged for the door.
“Keith, wait!” Sam tried to grab his arm, but stepped back when Keith pulled a switchblade, holding it in front of him.
“No! You’re not right, I’m not crazy! You get shot, you have to be the one.”
Dean was pissed, and eased his hand behind his back. “Sam, step back, let him go. Just go, dude, we’re not keeping you here.”
“Dean, we can’t just let him –“
“Sam, no, you’re not getting stabbed by some crazy fucker with mental issues; now step back!”
Keith took his eyes off Sam, who obeyed his brother, stepping back out of reach, and screamed at Dean. “I’m not crazy!”
But the moment Sam was out of danger, Dean had pulled his gun and held it pointed at Keith, walking towards him, passing Sam who moved back behind his shoulder, allowing Dean to share the space with Keith instead. “You listen to me, you little bastard, you get the hell out of here now, or I’ll be the one to make the vision come true, and you’ll be the one shot.”
Keith glared at him malevolently, then turned the glare on Sam. “You’re the one, not me.”
Dean took another step closer, gun in Keith’s face, but Keith backed up to the door, opening it, then leaving, slamming it behind him. Dean watched through the peephole as he climbed into a little foreign hatchback, and drove away, then looked back at Sam. “What the hell was that?”
Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense, why would we both see each other being shot?”
“I don’t know, but you sure as hell aren’t getting shot. I didn’t like the look of him, Sam, I don’t think he’s all there.”
“Maybe the visions just get him upset. I shouldn’t have told him so fast about what I saw, I should’ve eased him into it.”
“I don’t think it was just the visions, he acted like someone was talking to him, like he could hear voices. The guy was just nuts, Sam.”
“That could be me one day, Dean.”
Dean swung around, pissed at Sam, now. “No, it couldn’t. Don’t start that crap again.” Sam just stared back at him, with a resigned expression, and Dean took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Look, this guy is probably your age, and got the visions around the same time you did. That’s the drill right? That’s the way it worked for everyone so far, right? You said Ava had her visions the same amount of time you did.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Alright, then that means Keith has probably had them the same amount of time, too – and look how crazy he is. You’re nothing like that. I’m telling you, there’s something else wrong with him, something else has pushed him over the edge.”
Sam considered, then nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
Dean lifted an eyebrow. “I’m the oldest, remember? I’m always right.” He watched as Sam rolled his eyes at him, but he could see that some of the tension had gone out of his shoulders, and knew he was relieved. “Listen, Sam, he was pretty riled up when he left; I’m going to go get some extra supplies out of the trunk, just in case he decides to show up with a bigger knife tonight. Why don’t you get on the laptop, see if you can find anything now that we know his name?”
Sam nodded in agreement, and Dean strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. The wide parking lot was still empty in the growing twilight, and the office lights were out; apparently they would be the only people dumb enough to spend the night in this godforsaken motel. Well, that was fine, he’d take advantage and turn the television up as loud as he wanted tonight; no one to notice but Sam, which would be a great fringe benefit. Feeling more chipper at the thought, Dean walked around to the back of the Impala and opened the trunk, then began sorting through their belongings, deciding what to take back into the motel room. He heard a squeal of tires, and turned around to see headlights turning from the road into the parking lot. He expected to see the car head in the direction of the motel office, but the car was driving in a straight line, cutting across marked parking spots, and Dean suddenly realized he was staring at the same little hatchback, and it was making a beeline for him. He dove to the left, but his eyes were still on the little car, so he saw the streak of red cross into the path of the hatchback, saw the hatchback plow into the front of the red Jeep, saw both cars slide across the parking lot, coming to rest about twenty feet away from the Impala. He was on his feet, running, before his brain caught up to whom he had seen in the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Chloe.
Read Part 14 here
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