Baby Winchester

Croatoan

Dean and I went out early in the morning on a food run. "Hey, you have any more......phsycic thing's?" He asked. I scoffed. "You mean apart from telepathy, telekinesis, and teleportation? No, although that doesn't mean that I won't get more later on in life." I say, looking forward. "Right." I look at him. "What?" "It's just....With your 3 T's and Sam's nightmare's.........." We walked in silence for a while, not even looking at each other. "Can you read mind's?" Dean asked after a minute. "At times, why?" "Have you ever read Sam or I?" "No, I honestly am a little scared what goes on up there." I tell him, poking the side of his head. He slapped my arm away, playfully and I chuckled. He pulled out a bag of jerky I bought and handed me a piece, taking one for himself.

We open the door to the motel room, finding Sam on the floor next to his bed, panting. "Sam?" Dean and I asked together. "No . . ." I heard Sam mutter. Dean and I shared a look and walked over.

That night, the guys and I are on the road once more. Dean is, obviously, driving and Sam is navigating with a GPS thing that says directions. "Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West." The GPS thing said. "There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove." Sam told us. "How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?" Dean asked him. "There was a picture. Crater Lake." "Okay, what else?" I asked. "I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair." Sam told us. "And I ventilated him?" Dean asked. "Yeah. You thought there was something inside him." "What, a demon? Was he possessed?" "I don't know."

"Well, all your visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow . . . so was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?" I ask him. "No. Nothing, you just plugged him, Dean, that's it." "Well, I'm sure I had a good reason." Dean said. "I sure hope so." "What does that mean?" Dean asked, pausing. "I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man. I wouldn't!" Dean yelled as Sam raised his eyebrows. "I never said you would!" "Fine!" "Fine! Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what." "Fine." "Fine." I groaned quietly. "Ugh, men." I muttered, flopping on the backseat.

The next day, we pulled into town, passing a large billboard advertising Crater Lake. We pulled up in front of a wooden shop. Out front an older man is cleaning a rifle, wearing a short-sleeved blue shirt with a multi-pocket brown vest. The three of us get out and walk up. "Morning." Dean greets. "Good morning. Can I help you?" The guy asks. "Yeah." Dean said and we pulled out fake ID's. "Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, and Angelica Black. U.S. Marshals." "What's this about?" The guy asked us. "We're looking for someone." Dean told him. "A young man, early twenties. He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline." Sam described. "What'd he do?" the guy asked. "Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us."

"Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet. I think maybe you know who he is . . . Master Sergeant." I say, refferring to his tattoo. "My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal." I tell him. "What company?" "Echo-2-1." I tell him. "So can you help us?" Sam asked. The guy hesitated before answering. "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean." "Oh, I'm sure we does. Um. You know where he lives?" Dean asked him. "With his family, up Aspen Way." He told us. "Thank you." Dean said and we walked away.

As we walk down the sidewalk, Sam bumped into a telephone pole and looked at it. Dean and I walked back when he realized Sam hadn't moved. "Hey." "Croatoan?" "Yeah." Dean looked confused. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?" I ask him. "Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills becomes a laws . . ." "That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock." Sam said, giving Dean the bitchface. "Whatever." "Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?" I ask him, seeing he remembered.