Monachopsis

Chapter LX: Perusing Antiques...With Dean

"A vision?" John asked. He and Dean were seated on the double full-sized bed in our shared motel room. 

"Yes," Sam said softly, rubbing his head. He was slouched over the small table in our kitchenette, still obviously in pain. I filled a glass with water from the tap and set it softly in front of him before returning to my place by the counter. Sam took a small sip before continuing. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because?" John asked.

I bristled, already on edge from meeting Monica, and Sam's distress. The wave of emotions that had hit me earlier with Rosie definitely didn't help.

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam said.

John's eyes moved to me. I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. I met his gaze, daring him to ask. I knew I was being irrational with my anger. Of course he wouldn't want to believe it. People having psychic visions of the future wasn't exactly a widely-embraced theory. But I couldn't help it. John just had that effect on me.

"It started out as nightmares," Dean said, rising from the bed and joining me and Sam in the kitchenette. "And then he started having them while he was awake."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "It's like--I don't know, it's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"Alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John turned accusatory eyes on Dean. 

Dean looked over his shoulder from where he was refilling Sam's cup. "We didn't know what it meant."

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me," John snapped.

I tensed, curling in on myself. The tension in the room was building, and John was getting angry. If he made a move, regardless of our recent truce, I wouldn't hesitate to stop him.

But luckily, I didn't have to do anything. Dean set down the cup and turned around, looking John full in the face. His expression was incredulous. "Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, alright? Sam called you when I was dying. I rang your phone twice a day when Gray was so beside herself with grief that she didn't eat or drink for days! I had to leave you a message when she was in the hospital with pneumonia, because you didn't pick up. Getting you on the phone--I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

John was silent. His face was stoic, and for a long moment, it didn't look like he was going to say anything. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

"You're right." I looked up from the table. John was nodding his head. Dean looked equally as surprised. John continued. "Although I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

Sam sighed. "Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through."

My stomach twisted at the thought. Poor little Rosie.

"No, they're not," John said. "No one is...ever again."

A sharp, rapid ringing sliced the air like a machete. In my pocket, my cell phone vibrated. It was a startling sensation. Immediately, I was wary. Anyone who would ever need to call this phone was in the room with me. 

I flipped it open and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Grace Winchester?" The voice on the other end was unfamiliar to me. The sound of my full name in a stranger's mouth made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.