Chapter Text
He’s standing in a warehouse district somewhere that he can’t quite place. It's definitely not somewhere he's been before. He tries to move his feet but can’t, he's frozen in place. A rip opens in the wall of the warehouse in front of him. The tear starts small but grows quickly. He can see a pair of hands. It looks like they're ripping a hole in reality. Eventually the hole grows big enough and someone steps though. The most striking thing about them is their yellow eyes.
DJ wakes up. He’s panting heavily as he rolls out of bed.
He's had nightmares before, everyone had that, it was just part of childhood but he’d never had one like that. No, that had felt real in a way he couldn’t explain. It hadn’t felt like a dream. It felt like a vision.
He shook the thought out of his head as he shoved the cereal he had mindlessly poured back into the cupboard. An attempt to push the weird (terrifying) dream out of his head as he ate breakfast by pointlessly scrolling mostly worked.
He doesn’t bother to change out of his PJs. DJ doesn’t have class (his Uni is currently on holidays) or work today so why bother?
No work means another day spent working his way through his dad’s possessions.
Currently he was going through his dad’s wardrobe and finding out quite how large the ratio of flannel shirts is to other clothing items. (he has to joke about it or he’ll cry though every second. He doesn’t want to do this but someone has to and he has no other family to help).
Sometimes he wondered how his dad seemed to have no history, like he’d spawned into the universe the moment he’d met his mum.
He's packing one of dad’s books into a book.
Knife clutched in a hand. Blood splatter. Hand stabbing up and down. Scarlett on white. The body of a woman lying on blood stained carpet.
DJ’s mind slammed back into his body.
What the hell was that?
The nightmare had been easy to play off as just a dream. Its not like dreams so vivid they felt real were unheard off.
This was much harder to brush off.
He ignores it. (what's he going to do about it? Tell someone? Oh yeah I had a vision of someone getting murdered?).
He keeps working his way though dad’s cupboard.
He moves one of the large thick old mythology books his dad had been so fond of (both the obvious stuff and then the more and more obscure. Half of it is from cultures that DJ has never heard of anywhere else). This one looks like it's on some kind of weird bible stuff, angels and demon type. There's a scrap of paper underneath.
He goes to throw it in the trash, assuming that it's probably just some stray bookmark when he turns it over. There's a note on the back.
The text reads ‘in the case of my death or disappearance, call if something weird is going on’, with an arrow pointed to a phone number.
The note is signed ‘S.W’. Sam Winchester. His father.
His dad is dead, and there's something weird going on.
He grabs his phone and types in the number.
It can’t hurt, even if it is just another person he needs to tell.
A woman picks up the phone (he hadn’t been expecting that. He hadn’t expected anyone to pick up at all).
“Hello” she says, like she was expecting this as little as he was, “this is Jody?”.
DJ pushes down the freeze response “this is DJ? Uh Dean Winchester Jr?”
Jody lets out a long breath. “Sorry about your dad kid”.
DJ had heard those words so many times they felt meaningless.
Then it hit him. She knew his dad? He’d neither met nor heard of this lady before. “You knew my dad?”
“Yeah, he was a good man” she paused for a moment (DJ waited for her to say more but she never did) “what did you call about kid?”
“Ahh” DJ once again remembered why he hated phone calls “I’ve been having visions”
“So your physics then?”
He hadn’t expected to be believed. “I guess? Its only happened twice”
He could almost hear her nodding though the phone “can you tell me what you’ve been seeing then?”
He told her. He's sure he sounded completely insane.
“I thought something was wrong!” Jody sounded like she’d just figured out the answer to a maths question.
“What do you mean?”
Jody continued “there's been all these demon signs, ones that would indicate a really powerful one but there's no demons left that could cause them. If there's something coming in from another universe that would explain it”.
“What do you mean Demons?” he had no idea what she was talking about “demons aren't real”
Jody laughed “I knew Sam didn’t want you to be a hunter but he really didn’t teach you anything”
Hunter?
Jody continued “look it's going to be really hard to explain over the phone. I’m retired but I’ll give you the phone number of someone else who can help you. Her names Claire, Claire Novak”
DJ nodded despite that being pointless “okay”.
He grabs the nearest pen and a scrap of paper.
He calls the number Jody gave him.
“Hello?” he says “is this Claire Novak?”
A voice much younger than he expected responded “who's asking?”
“My name is DJ, ah Dean Winchester Junior?” he pauses “Jody said to call you”.
“You have the right number” says the voice begrudgingly “but this isn’t Claire. She's currently… unavailable”
That sounded ominous. “Who is this then?”
“I’m Jamie, Claire’s daughter”, her voice was laced with defensiveness, “what can I help you with?”
DJ tells her about the visions.
“Right” Jamie says “i need you meet me in person”
“Where?”
She gives him an address.
“Its a bunker in Kansas” she explains (this explains nothing) “i’ll meet you there as soon as possible, if what your seeing is real we don’t have time to waste”.
She hangs up on him without a goodbye.
He pulls one of the duffle bags they used to use when they went camping out of the cupboard under the stairs.
He has no idea what you should pack to go monster hunting.
He ends up filling the bag with a random selection of clothes, all the cans of food in the cupboard and, at the last minute the gun his dad had never let him touch let alone teach him to use (dad had taught him gun safety but never how to fire it no matter how much he asked).
He calls his job to tell them he was taking leave.
After locking up and telling his neighbour he heads out to the garage.
Underneath its cover his uncle’s 1967 impala is as good a working order as the day it was made.
DJ settles into the front seat, puts the address into his phone and slides one of his own tapes in.
The door of the garage opens in front of him.