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Visions 7 Chapter 1
Supernatural, Hug, Dean, Sam
 "Hey dad."
Sam swallowed. He wasn't sure he liked this, not at all.
Dean refused to look at him, his shoulders stiff with anger that Sam knew wasn't directed at him. At least not all of it.
They hadn't exactly agreed on whether or not calling their dad in was a good idea considering how their conversation a few months before had gone.
But Sam was tired.
He was tired of the fighting. He was tired of the distance between him and his father. Something nagged at him, some deep part of him was beginning to recognize that none of them would live forever.  Heck, Sam was fairly sure he wasn't going to live to the age of 40 or maybe even 30. What would he do if he wasn't the one to die first, like he kinda thought he would? What if it was their dad? Or...or heaven forbid...Dean? Sam knew it was time to extend the olive branch.
He had simply told Dean he wanted dad's help.
"Sam." If John was surprised to hear his youngest son's voice, he didn't show it.
"I, uh...We're working on a case and I was wondering if you would come up and give us a hand. This thing that's killing people off..." Sam sighed. "We don't know what it is. It doesn't fit any of the regular patterns of...well, anything. We'd appreciate your opinion."
Please dad. We're stronger together. As a family. We always have been.
John hesitated and Sam felt his heart drop.
That's when John spoke, his voice firm and unquestioning.
"Alright. I'm coming. Just tell me where you are."
Sam fidgeted again where he was sitting at the table, pretending to do research on the laptop, though Dean knew the kid was just trying to find something to distract himself with.
Dean sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
He couldn't decide whether or not he was happy their dad was coming. He had agreed: that was a good sign. Or at least it could be. It would depend on his motivation for coming. Helping his useless sons? Not good. Going to support his children because they were his? Good.
Dean loved his father. He did. But Sam always came first and Dean wasn't sure their father was ready to get over the mind-reading incident of several months before.
Then Sam fidgeted again, restlessly, and Dean couldn't just sit there anymore.
"Sam. It'll be okay, kiddo. Relax."
Sam glanced over at him, surprised. "I thought I was the mind-reader."
"You're rubbing off on me."
Sam snorted. "Heaven help us."
Dean flashed him a fake-hurt look. "Ouch. That's not very nice. I would never abuse the power of mind reading."
"Yeah whatever."
Dean hid his grin. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."
"Oh. Oh no. There is no way you're starting that again." But Sam sounded amused.
"Dream squasher."
"Bubble burster."
"You're so sad."
This is awkward.
Sam sighed.
John clearly didn't know how to interact with Sam, what was too much, what to say.
Crap, dad, it's mind reading, I didn't grow horns and a tail!
But what really surprised Sam?
His dad was trying.
He had looked Sam in the eyes when he walked up, greeted him just as he'd greeted Dean.
He sat reading over all the research Sam had done, then thought for a while, flipping through several pages of his journal.
"I kind of thought it was related to the Wendigo." Sam said softly.
John glanced at him, looking impressed, much to Sam's additional surprise. "You're right, actually. It's a relative of the Wendigo. You kill it in a similiar manner, except it's susceptible to bullets as well as fire. It's a little slower than the Wendigo, but ten times stronger and has massive claws. Nothing to mess around with."
Sam nodded, glancing at Dean, who looked thoughtful, probably already contemplating what he was going to do to the creature and how best to go about the fight.
"This is good work, Sam. Thorough research."
Sam stared at John in shock, but his dad didn't look at him, standing and walking towards the door. "I'm gonna make sure I have what I need in the truck. When you guys are ready we can head out."
Sam and Dean watched their father go, then stared at each other.
"Should I get the holy water?" Sam finally asked.
Dean snorted, trying to contain a burst of laughter. I knew you'd come around! Oh, crap, dad. Thank you.
The three Winchesters were prepared for this fight. Each had their handguns securely tucked in their belts, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.  Sam had a pack holding three make-shift flame throwers that they would probably pull out once they got closer to their destination.  They had figured out a basic area to search, where they thought it's hunting grounds were and were heading that way now.
Sam was nervous.
He wasn't sure why exactly.
He would swear someone was watching, but none of his senses, human or otherwise, warned him of anyone that wasn't supposed to be there.
Dean had glanced around several times, looking carefully at their surroundings, but he apparently hadn't seen anything either.
John was stiff, prepared, alert.
This hunt shouldn't be hard, Sam knew. They were more than prepared. Sam knew that too.
Then why am I so afraid?
A wicked smile spread across the face of the man standing in the shadows.
Let the games begin.


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