Dean ate his breakfast with the kind of hunger that came from running on fear for days. The diner was noisy—people talking, dishes clattering, chairs scraping—but it all felt distant, like he was listening through a wall. He scooped up the last of his eggs, washed them down with bitter coffee, and leaned back, staring out at the misty street through the window.
Boyd had told him Donna would show up later, take him to Colony House, and explain his "options." But Dean already knew one thing: he didn't want to live there.
Colony House was too wild, too careless. People there called it freedom, but to Dean it looked like chaos. And in this place, chaos meant death. One weak moment, one person breaking under the manipulation, and the monsters would get inside. He remembered that happening in the show's future, and he wanted no part of it.
Sure, the town was rough, and most people looked like they were holding themselves together with tape and prayers—but at least it had rules. That made it safer. Or at least less crazy. At the very least, he wouldn't die because of someone else's mistake.
He crossed his arms, picturing what might happen if Colony House ever broke down—if the monsters pushed them far enough and someone panicked, maybe even fired a gun. No way. He wasn't going to die because somebody else lost control.
Pushing his plate aside, he stood.
"Done? Or you still hungry?" Kenny asked, casual as ever.
Dean nodded. "I'm good. Nothing to do till Donna shows up anyway, right?"
Kenny tilted his head. "Depends what you call nothing. Town's small, but you'd be surprised what there is to see if you've got someone showing you around."
Dean smiled. "You volunteering?"
"Guess so," Kenny said, glancing back to murmur something to his mother before heading out with him.
Dean chuckled, thanking Tian for the breakfast, then looked at Kenny. "Alright. I'll take the babysitter."
They walked out into the dull gray daylight, the empty streets spread around them. Dean found he didn't really mind having the guy with him. They hadn't even known each other for a whole day, but it already felt comfortable.
Maybe that was just because of what they were going through. Sometimes you could live next to someone for years and barely know them, and other times two strangers could feel like friends right away. His grandpa used to say war made brothers quicker than peace ever did. Maybe this was the same thing.
Kenny pointed out a small row of houses. Introducing people, places as they walked.
Dean nodded, only half listening. The houses looked neat in that forced way people tried to fight back despair—like clean curtains and swept porches could keep the monsters at bay.
"You're gonna meet a lot of folks today," Kenny went on. "Some will talk, some won't. Depends how they're doing that day."
"Sounds like everyone's barely holding on," Dean muttered.
Kenny nodded. "That's not wrong."
The time blurred as they walked the crooked streets. Kenny introduced him to Kristi at the clinic—sharp-eyed, tired, hair tied back with a rubber band. She looked Dean over like she was checking for cracks.
"Any injuries?" she asked.
"Not today."
"Good. Try to keep it that way."
They stopped by the hardware store, where a big man named Tom barely looked up from fixing a lantern, only giving Dean a wave.
Everywhere they went, Dean saw the same thing in people's faces: tiredness carved deep, hope stretched thin, but still hanging on. Kenny filled in the blanks—who had lost who, who was coping, who wasn't. Dean listened, though it was too much to remember.
By the time they circled back toward the diner, the sun was over their head. They sat on the post office steps, sharing a bottle of water.
"Hell of a day," Dean muttered.
"Told you the town was bigger than it looks," Kenny said.
Dean rubbed his face. "Guess so."
Kenny nodded and after talking with him a bit more, he took Dean's leave and went off to his duties.
Just as he was about to step onto Boyd's porch, a voice called out.
"Dean!"
Dean turned his head and saw Sara walking toward him.
As she got closer, he saw her features clearly. She had a warm smile and bright eyes despite the fatigue on her face.
"Yes?" he asked.
Sara stopped a short distance away and smiled even more softly. She raised a hand like she wanted to apologize.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "About my… behavior earlier. I was really stressed back then."
Dean shook his head,"Don't sweat about it. I know how hard it's been for you guys."
Sara's eyes stayed on his for a beat longer. "Thank you for being so understanding." Then she asked, tilting her head, "Do you have a minute? I'd like to get to know you better."
Dean hesitated. His mind raced. He remembered how she had treated Ethan—gentle and loving at first, then she tried to kill him. And now, with the supernatural stuff in this town, who knew what she was being told to do.
Finally, he nodded. "Sure. Why not." He pointed to a chair on Boyd's porch and sat down. Sara sat next to him, careful to keep some distance.
Dean's eyes flicked to her hands and posture. Nothing looked off, no weapons. But he stayed cautious.
'Wait… is that why she stared at me in the diner? Did some supernatural force tell her to kill me like they told her to kill Jade's friend and Ethan? Since Jade hasn't arrived yet, and I'm the only new person… does that mean I've replaced Jade's friend on her death list? Fucking hell.' His expression hardened.
Although he wasn't completely sure—it was just a hunch—a threat to his life was still a threat, no matter the odds.
Sara noticed the changes in his expressions. "Is everything okay, Dean?" she asked softly.
Dean forced a nod. "Yeah… just feeling a bit under the weather."
Her smile returned, gentler this time. "So… where were you going before… you know… you were forced into this cursed place?"
Dean exhaled slowly. "To Missouri. For my friend's birthday party."
While talking, his mind worked in the background, trying to piece something together. He didn't have a clear plan yet, just scattered thoughts. Maybe the first step was showing her she had a choice. Maybe he could make her see the force behind her visions, that it didn't have to control her. If he managed that, maybe she wouldn't go down the wrong path. And if she didn't…she could even become an ally. Like Jade. Although her visons were double edged sometimes...they were still useful.
Of course, if she stayed stubborn and kept to her dangerous ways, Dean had no problem putting a bullet in her. Better safe than sorry.
Dean kept his eyes on her as she asked another question about his family. He paused, thinking carefully.
He sighed slowly. "Sara… I know."
Her eyebrows lifted. "What are you talking about?"
Dean leaned back and looked at her. "I know what it's like to feel trapped. To have forces bigger than you pushing you in a direction you don't want to go. I know what it's like to be forced into something that could hurt you—or worse, someone else."
Sara's face froze, utterly shocked. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened again, stuttering, "I… I don't… I don't understand."
But Dean didn't need words. Her expression told him everything. Deep down, she understood exactly what he was saying.
Dean allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "Did this place…those forces...tell you to kill me in order to leave?" His voice was calm, almost casual, but the question carried weight.
Sara's jaw literally dropped. Dean watched her lips tremble, her eyes darting as if she was seeing him—and the truth—through a lens she had never dared to focus on before. He had been careful with his words, but her reaction confirmed his earlier suspicion. These forces—the ones that had whispered and guided her—were telling her to kill him.
Dean leaned back, letting the silence stretch. Then he added, deliberately softer this time, "Do you want to know how I know this?"
Sara's world seemed to tilt, the ground under her feet unstable, but she didn't reply.
"I had a vision....I heard their voices too," Dean said quietly, letting the words sink in.
Sara's eyes widened further, a mixture of awe and disbelief crossing her face. She had found another person like her, someone who could see beyond the surface, someone who understood the stress and pain she was going through. Relief flickered across her expression—but it was quickly replaced by confusion, fear, and anger. 'Why would these supernatural forces want me to kill him?'
Dean noticed the storm of conflicting emotions on her face and leaned forward slightly, voice measured. "Sara, your visions are a double-edged sword. They show you things you wouldn't otherwise see, but some of those things… they're designed to break you mentally. To trap you here. They don't want you to leave—they want to control you, scare you, push you into doing things that make you feel powerless."
He paused, letting his words settle, then continued with a slight edge of intensity. "Now think about this. Really think. Killing me… how would that get you out of here? Would this place teleport you somewhere else? Do you really think this monstrous place is so kind, so… simple?"
Sara's brows furrowed, a frown tugging at her lips. She shook her head slightly, the first thread of doubt creeping in.
Dean pressed on, leaning in just a little, keeping his eyes on hers, making sure she followed every word. "If these forces could just let people go whenever they wanted, why did they trap us here in the first place? Why manipulate, deceive, and threaten us at all? They don't want freedom. They want control. And they're counting on you to obey. But you don't have to. You get to decide. You get to choose what to believe, what to fight, and what to ignore. Just like I did."
He let a beat pass, giving her space to think. "Your visions can help you if you use them right. But if you let them control you… you'll end up trapped forever, doing what they want, hurting yourself, hurting others."
Sara's lips parted slightly. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but now there was something else there—awareness, dawning clarity, the first flicker of agency she hadn't felt in a long time.
Dean leaned back, letting her process. "You've got the power to see through it. And if you need help figuring all this stuff out… I'm here."
Sara sat in stunned silence, her mind spinning as she tried to process everything Dean had told her. It was overwhelming. He had dumped a lot of truth on her at once, and she struggled to keep her footing. She wanted to say so much, asked so many questions, but the words stuck in her throat.
Just then, a voice broke the quiet. "Sara!"
She turned and saw a woman running toward her, worry on her face. "Your brother is looking for you. He said it's urgent!"
Sara's gaze went back to Dean. Her mind was still reeling from his words. She hesitated, torn between staying to understand more and going to her responsibilities. "I… I'm sorry," she said softly. "I have to go. Can we talk again later?"
Dean stood and nodded. His smile was steady and reassuring. "Sure. Why not? You're always welcome at my house… uh, well, Boyd's house."
Sara's lips curved into a small smile. She stepped closer, hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand briefly on his arm. "Thank you," she whispered. Her voice carried relief and sincere gratitude. She didn't say more, but the warmth in her gesture was clear.
With one last look at him, she pulled away, stood tall, and quickly went to her friend. She didn't look back. The small lift of her shoulders and the lightness in her steps showed that something inside her had shifted. Dean watched her leave, feeling both surprised and pleased. She was still careful and thinking things through, but he knew he had changed how she saw it all. How much it would matter… only time would show.
But he was sure that he had atleast stopped her from having thoughts of killing him or anybody else for the moment.
Usually, something like this wouldn't happen. People rarely trusted strangers so easily, especially with such heavy and unsettling truths. But Dean had been careful—his lies were veiled with truth, subtle enough to guide her thinking without making her suspicious.
And Sara, in her emotionally fragile state, overwhelmed and still trying to make sense of the supernatural forces that had haunted her, had latched onto him almost immediately. She had believed him, perhaps more quickly than she should have, but that only worked in his favor.
Dean felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The tension of the day, the constant alertness, and the mental calculations he'd been running finally caught up with him. He went into Boyd's house, sat on the couch, and lay back, letting his body rest. Before long, the day's weight pulled him into a deep, much-needed sleep.
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