"Found anything good yet?" I ask Dean sitting across from me at the table.
"Think so. What do you think of this one, fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali. It's crew vanished." Dean looks up at me. I click my tongue as I tilt my head to the side.
"Eh, I don't know. California's pretty far from here, don't ya think? I found some cattle mutilations in West Texas that seem promising. It's closer too." I tell him. He bobs his head side to side as if thinking about my point.
"What you thinking, Sam?" Dean asks, not being able to decide. I look over at Sam on the bed when he doesn't answer, just continues to sketch something on the hotel notepad. "Hey!" Dean tries again. Sam looks over at us this time, eyes wide like a lost puppy. I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Aw, Sammy." I gush, getting up to only plop myself on the bed next to him. "You're adorable." I grin as I pinch his cheek. He gives me a small pout making me coo again.
"Seriously?" Dean asks, throwing his hands up.
"What? I'm listening." I smile at him cheekily. He sighs, running a hand over his face.
"Are we boring you with this hunting evil stuff?" He aims the question towards his brother.
"No, I'm listening. Keep going." Sam said, going back to drawing what looks like a tree.
"Mhm." I hum knowingly. He didn't hear a word we said, that's for sure. Dean waits a moment before continuing.
"There's one where a Sacramento man shot himself in the head...three times." Dean emphasizes by raising three of his fingers. I give him an amused look as he waves to grab Sam's attention. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?" He asks. I look up at Sam then at the notepad that he's flipping through. Page after page of the same tree is sketched onto them.
"What's with all the trees? You the Lorax or somethin'?" I question.
"Wait, I've seen this." Sam says, ignoring me.
"Seen what?" Dean asks. Instead of answering, Sam gets up and walks over towards his bag.
"Sam?" I furrow my brows, sitting up. He hastily grabs for his father's journal.
"What are you doing?" Dean asks. Still not answering us, Sam opens up the journal on the bed by my feet. After a second of him fumbling through it he pulls out a picture, holding it and the notepad side by side.
"Guys, I know where we have to go next." Sam finally says, looking between the both of us. I raise a questioning brow.
"And where's that, hm?" I hum, crossing my arms as I lean my head against the headboard.
"Back home. Back to Kansas." My arms fall and I sit up as straight as a board.
"What?"
"Okay, random. Where'd that come from?" Dean scoffs.
"Alright, um..." Sam brings the photo over toward Dean and sets it in front of him.
"This photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where mom died?" Sam asks. I get off the bed and stand next to Dean, looking down at the picture. John, Mary, and Dean were smiling happily in the picture with a baby Sam in Mary's arms. I smile.
"Yeah." Dean answers skeptically.
"And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely. They rebuilt it, right?" Sam continues firing questions.
"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asks, neither of us knowing where this was going.
"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but the people who live in our old house...I think they might be in danger." Sam explains, sitting down in my chair.
"Why would you think that?" Dean questions him. Sam looks up at me for a moment and shakes his head. I knew what that troubled, secretive look was trying to tell me.
"Uh... just,...um...look, just-you gotta trust me on this, okay?" Sam tells him lamely. My eyes follow his movements as he goes over to his bag again.
"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. Trust you?" Dean asks, getting up as well.
"Yeah."
"Come on, man. That's weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that."
"I can't, really explain it, is all." Sam continues to stuff his bag with his clothes.
"Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you do."
"Sam." I speak up carefully, walking up next to Dean. "Sam, is it..." I trail off. Sam stops his movements and stares at me for a moment, then nods.
Holy hell.
"Is it what? What aren't you guys telling me?" Dean's voice raises slightly. I give Sam a look that tells him to just let Dean in on it already. He should know what kind of a stubborn, hard-headed, yet determined brother he has on his hands. Giving in, Sam's turns to us fully with a defeated sigh.
"I have these nightmares." Sam starts.
"I've noticed." Dean replies smartly.
"And sometimes...they come true." Sam explains shortly.
"Come again?"
"Look, Dean...I dreamt about Jessica's death...for days before it happened." Sam tells him.
"Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence." Dean tries to reassure him as he sits at the end of the bed. Maybe he was also trying to reassure himself.
"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 know I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some women inside screaming for help." Sam rants on quickly.
"Okay, Sam. Just calm down, alright? Take a breather." I say calmly, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. It doesn't seem to do much though.
"No, I mean, come on. That's where it all started. This has to mean something, right?" Sam asks, eyes wide at Dean. I slowly look at Dean and catch his eye just before he looks down.
"I don't know."
"You don-what do you mean you don't know, Dean?" Sam sits down on the opposite bed in front of his brother. "This—this woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed mom and Jessica."
"Alright, just slow down, would ya?" Dean moves away from the bed. He looks out the window momentarily then suddenly turns back around to look at me.
"You knew about this?" He asks almost sadly. I look down at my feet, nodding my head sheepishly. I hear him scoff quietly.
"First you're telling me you got the shining, then Jenny tells me she's known the entire time, and then you tell me that I've got to go back home? Especially when..." he trails off. I slowly look up at him and frown when I see his glassy eyes.
"When what?" Sam presses. Dean looks between the both of us.
"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there." Dean admits, turning away from us. Sam and I share a look of guilt. This must not be easy for Dean. Hell, it wasn't for me either.
I couldn't go.
"Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure." Sam tells him, getting up. Looking over at us, Dean nods reluctantly.
"I know we do." It's quiet. Real quiet. For a few very painful minutes as they pack their things. I, however, just sit on the bed.
"I can't go with you guys." I blurt out. They look at me confused.
"What?" One asks.
"Why?" Asks the taller brother.
"I...um, I just can't."
"Oh, come on, not you too." Dean groans, going back to stuffing his bag.
"Listen, you have your demons in Lawrence, I have mine. I. Can't. Go." I grit out. I fist my hands to stop them from shaking with anxiety. Dean throws a shirt into the bag and turns to look at me with a humorless chuckle.
"Oh, so you get to skip outta this one, but I can't? I don't think so. Where will you stay? Hm? Where you gonna drive to? Oh, wait, that's right, you don't have a car." Dean says harshly. My eyes widen at his sudden change in tone but they quickly narrow.
"I've managed to figure it out for 11 years of my life. I can do it again." I reply just as harshly. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"What is it that's so bad in Kansas, huh? What happened while you were there? Killed another hunter or something?" He taunts me as he walks closer, but before he can get too close, Sam stops him.
"Something like that." I shrug. Both their eyes widen. Then it's quiet again.
"Are you serious?" Dean asks in disbelief, losing his harsh tone. I sigh with a nod.
"I told you. I have my own demons back in Lawrence, and I'd rather not visit them." The Winchester brothers have a silent conversation with their eyes before Sam's sighing in defeat.
"You're still coming with us." Dean finalizes.
"Excuse me? Am I a prisoner now or something?" I put a hand on my hip.
"No, but if I'm going back to face my demons, then you're sure as hell going to as well. It's only fair." Dean shrugs. I narrow my eyes into slits.
"Bite me."
"I would but Sam's still in the room." Dean smirks. I groan, dragging myself over to my duffle bag.
"You are literally the worst human being I've ever met." I grumble.
"Highly doubt that."
After practically dragging my ass to the Impala, we make way for Kansas. Much to my displeasure. I wasn't exactly 100% honest with them about why I didn't want to go to Kansas, but then again I wasn't completely honest about a lot of things. Many of the things I tell them are half truths.
When we pass the Lawrence sign my hands start to get sweaty and I start bouncing my knee up and down like I usually do when I'm on edge. I grip the necklace that's around my neck tightly and take deep breaths. Countless thoughts swarm in my mind which starts to bring on a mild headache.
"You alright back there?" Sam asks once he notices my fidgeting. I pull away my hand that's resting on my forehead and glower at him.
"Just peachy, Sam. I love being taken against my will to a state that I haven't stepped foot in for over five years." I huff, rubbing my temples to try and seize the aching pain.
"Quit your whining. You weren't taken against your will, you eventually agreed." Dean cuts in.
"Uh, I don't know. I don't ever remember hearing the word 'agreed' come out of my mouth."
"I'm sure it did." He argues.
"Did not." I mutter, crossing my arms like a child.
It took about another ten minutes to reach their neighborhood, but when we did...I almost vomited up my breakfast which consisted of leftover chinese food and soda.
"W-what are we doing here?" I ask, heart pounding as I sit up stiffly. Sam turns to me with a confused look.
"What do you mean? This is where we used to live." He explains.
"No. Not..." I whisper under my breath, eyes trailing out my window. "Possible."
"You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asks his brother as the two of them observe their house. Not me though. No, the house across the street from theirs is what had my attention. A light blue two storey house with a single car garage.
The grass was bright green, flowers were sprouting out from the flower beds that lined the front of the house, and the windows had those slightly chipped red colored shutters.
It was just how I left it.
Suddenly, my view was disturbed by a body covering my window. Sam taps on it and gestures for me to hurry up before moving to cross the sidewalk. After fumbling to open the door, I slowly get out, my eyes never leaving the house. Without even realizing it, I start walking up it's stone pathway.
"Jennifer!" Sam calls. I halt in my step and snap my gaze over to him. I feel a tear slide down my cheek. They were already at the doorstep of their home and I was nearly at the doorstep of mine. Too many things keep flashing before my eyes. Too many memories. Bad ones, good ones, and ones that I don't even remember happening.
I've been in this exact position before. I don't know when, but Sam wasn't there, looking at me from across the street. I connect eyes with Dean and his face is full of confusion.
But he was.
Does he remember too?
"What are you doing over there?" Sam calls over. I don't answer him. Instead, I turn back around and look up at the second story window.
That used to be my window.
My room.
The image of bloodied walls causes me to stumble back and nearly trip over my feet as I shake my head. Another tear falls but I quickly wipe it away and I hurry away from the house like the ground was burning me.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Sam asks, meeting me halfway in the middle of the street, Dean right behind him. My eyes observe the house behind Sam. The Winchester household. Or what used to be their house.
My eyes widen when I see a young Dean at a window on the second floor. He's frowning cutely as he holds a paper that has the words 'I mizz u' to the window. Then he points at something, the pad of his pointer finger squished against the glass, eyes focused straight ahead. I follow little Dean's gaze to the window of my room where a three year old version of me is seen giggling. Sam grips my shoulders and shakes me slightly.
"Jennifer!" I turn my wide eyed gaze to him.
"What's. Wrong?" He asks slowly.
"I-I...uh..." I clear my throat, shaking away the memories that are flooding past my eyes. "I-I'm fine." I whisper.
"Are you sure?"
"I said I'm fine, Sam." I step out of his hold. "Now please...let's get this over with." I glance over my old house before quickly walking up the steps of their own. I ring the doorbell and tap my foot nervously. I felt like I was ringing the doorbell to my own home. I shiver at the thought.
"Jennifer-"
"Stop, Sam." I sigh, not wanting to talk about it. The door opens to a woman with long blonde hair. I paste on a smile.
"Yes?" She asks curiously.
"Hi, we're sorry to bother you, miss, but we're, um, with thee federal-" I try to lie but Sam cuts me off quickly.
"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my friend Jennifer Davis, and my brother Dean. Um...my brother and I used to live here." Sam tells her truthfully. She looks between the three of us as Sam continues. "You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could see the old place." Sam asks hopefully. From the look on her face it looked like he wouldn't be disappointed.
"Winchester...Davis. Yeah, that is so funny. You know, I-I think I found some of your photos the other night." My eyes widen.
"You did?" Dean asks.
"Did any of them have a little girl?" I ask uneasily. She nods then opens her front door wider.
"Yeah, actually. Uh, come on in." She says sweetly. Slowly, I enter the house after Sam and it happens again. A young Dean runs past me with a young Jennifer chasing after him, the both of them laughing wildly. The noise almost rings in my ears. It catches me by surprise and I step back, bumping into Dean. I spin around to look at him.
"Sorry." I whisper. Before he can say anything, I quickly continue walking. Running a hand through my hair, I puff out a breath. When I walk into the kitchen a child is chanting the word juice over and over again from his playpen.
"That's Richie. He's kind of a juice junkie. But, hey, at least he won't get scurvy." The woman hands her son the juice he's been asking for with a smile.
"Sari, this is Sam, Jennifer, and Dean. Sam and Dean used to live here."
"Hi." Sari waves shyly. I smile just a little.
"Hi, Sari. I love your name. It's really pretty." I tell her sweetly. I catch her blushing lightly at the compliment causing me to smile a little wider.
"So, you just moved in?" Dean asks.
"Uh, yeah, from Wichita."
"Was it because you got family or friends over here?" I ask, looking around the room. I'm starting to remember small things but they're in fragments. Like making cookies with Mary, or sticking magnets on the fridge, or having thanksgiving in the dining room where Richie's playpen now stands.
I don't know where these are all coming from. Why now? Was this house a trigger? I was only maybe like two or three when all this happened. So how do I remember?
"So, how you liking it so far?" Sam asks, pulling me out of my daze. I look away from Richie so I can look at the woman again. Wait, did she answer my question already?
"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home—I mean, I'm sure you have lots of lovely memories here-" I try to take a peek up at Dean only to see him looking at me already. I quickly look away. "-but this place has its issues." She chuckles, turning to the sink.
"What kind of issues?" I ask her curiously. She leans on the counter.
"Well, it's just getting old, like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly."
"Aw, that's too bad...what else?" Dean asks.
"Uh, the sinks backed up. There's rats in the basement." I furrow my brows. It could just be normal issues that come with an old house. Nothing too strange.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain." She apologizes.
"No." Dean dismisses with a forced smile. "Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?" He asks.
"Just the scratching, actually."
"Mom?" Sari's timid voice calls. The woman walks over to her.
"Ask them if it was here when they lived here." I hear her whisper to her mom. I tilt my head and cross my arms.
"If what was here, Sari?" She looks at us.
"The thing in my closet."
"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets. Right?" The both of them look at the three of us for an answer.
"Right, no. No, of course not." Sam quickly reassures. The woman looks to Sari.
"She had a nightmare the other night."
"I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire." Sari stresses. My eyes blow wide and I look at Sam this time, his eyes just as wide. I guess 'fire' was the trigger word because next thing I know, I'm back in my old room window watching the house fire that occurred across the street that night. Clearing my throat, I smile wobbly at the woman.
"Will you excuse me." I quickly head for the door and I hear one set of footsteps following me. I gulp in the crisp Kansas air as soon as I open the door before rushing towards the Impala that's still parked next to my house, hearing Dean call for me. He grabs a hold of my upper arm just as I reach the car.
"Jennifer, look at me." He says sternly. Hesitantly, I turn to him with watering eyes.
"Did you know?" I whisper, voice cracking. He looks at me hurt and shakes his head.
"I didn't." I look up at the sky, trying to make my tears dry. I chuckle sadly.
"They won't stop flowing. All I see is you. Everywhere. You—we...did everything together, Dean. How am I only remembering now? Why am I? I was only two. Don't adults start remembering things at a later age?" I ramble.
"I don't know, but the same thing is happening to me." He sighs. I meet his eyes again.
"I remember the fire." I admit, voice barely audible.
"I know." He says. His eyes slowly trail over to my house and I frown, following it.
"This is what you meant about your demons in Lawrence, isn't it? About you killing a hunter here?" He asks. I nod slowly.
"This is where it all started for me." I sigh. I see a ten year old version of me stepping out of the house with a bloodied hoodie, tears on her face, holding a duffle in one hand, and bloody bat in the other. I watch as she starts down the sidewalk, bat dragging against the concrete. Then she stops at a car.
"He left his car right down that road." I point to where she was before continuing. "Who knew both of our most traumatic experiences happened within feet of each other."