likethegun | Room 438, Wednesday Afternoon (After Classes)

For all that Dean told him not to be, Sam still felt kind of guilty about all the lunches Dean brought him on his library visits now that he was getting pretty good at being in the kitchen himself. Lawyering Up had gotten him thinking about things he didn't want to think about, and focusing his attention on not burning down the common room's kitchen was the perfect distraction. After remaking the chicken soup recipe from cooking class, Sam made sure there was enough for Dean, put it in a container for him, and brought it up to his room. Now all he needed was for his brother to actually be there.

	Dean was indeed in, playing with Hunter and his remote controlled helicopters.
	Sam knocked, balancing the container carefully.
	"It's open!" Dean yelled, not feeling the need to get up to answer it.
	Sam got the door open, and pushed it further open with his foot. "Hey, are you hungry?" he asked. "I know, stupid question."
	"Hey," Dean greeted him with a grin, glancing at Sammy then back to the copter to land it on the nightstand, much to Hunter's disappointment. "What's that I'm smelling?"
	"Chicken soup. I was practicing not burning broth," Sam replied. "And I didn't, so I can actually guarantee this probably tastes good."
	"And you even deliver! Definitely earning yourself big time points here."
	Sam grinned and gave Dean the container of soup. "I figured it was only fair, considering how much you deliver to me."
	"That isn't actually something you have to pay back," Dean pointed out. "But I'll take the soup off your hands anyway. Because I'm awesome like that."
	Sam laughed. "I think there's enough in there for you. If not, I can make more." His smile faltered when his vision blurred for a moment, and he leaned against the other bed.
	Dean noticed right away. "Sammy? You okay?"
	Sam nodded shortly, not wanting Dean to worry. "Yeah. I think maybe I didn't--" Whatever he was going to say got lost as a familiar sharp pain shot through his head, and he scrambled to sit down on the bed, moaning as the first flash of his vision hit. "Shit! Meg, get in the car!"
	"Sammy!" Dean scrambled off the bed and over to his brother, soup forgotten.
	Sam's sight cleared a little, just enough for him to grab onto Dean before the pain became blinding and his vision started again. He saw Meg and Isabel tied up, Isabel breaking the ties, trying to sneak away..."So you're a healer. You have no idea how long we've been looking for you."...the guard with his gun to Meg's throat...Isabel collapsing...fire, everywhere... --and then the vision snapped and switched, and suddenly he saw Isabel again, on the beach with Ronan, fighting--seriously fighting-- --and then everything cleared, and Sam pitched forward towards Dean with a low groan.
	Dean caught his brother as he collapsed, hesitating between pulling him closer for comfort and pushing him back a little to check on him, before settling on the former. He had, by now, learned to recognize what a vision looked like and figured Sammy would pull away when he was ready. "I've got you," Dean muttered.
	Sam's breath was coming in gasps, and he didn't even try to act strong, letting himself sink against Dean as he processed what he'd seen. "Meg and Isabel," he said. "They're gonna be in trouble."
	Crap, Dean thought. "When?"
	"Soon. Real soon," Sam said, finally pushing away from Dean. "You've got to...got to call Meg, warn her."
	"Right," Dean said, glancing once more at Sammy to make sure he was okay as he moved to pick up his cell from the night stand and dialed Meg's number. "Come on," he muttered. "Pick up..."
	Sam sighed and sat back on the bed, rubbing his forehead to try to make the lingering pain go away faster. "Is she answering?"
	"No," Dean said as it kept ringing.
	"Maybe we should try Isabel?" Sam suggested. "I don't have her number...but I bet Wyatt does. He should know about this too."
	"I've got it," Dean said, hanging up and dialing Isabel, only to get the same thing. "Nope, no answer there, either. Fuck."
	Sam took a deep breath, trying not to let his fear cloud his thinking. "We've got to do something, Dean. We can't just let them get hurt."
	"Ya think?" Dean said, then took a deep breath. "Sorry. You're right. We'll get our stuff together and go talk to Wyatt -- he's got that whole teleporting thing. Hopefully he can get us all to them."
	"Yeah, that's a good idea," Sam said, pushing himself up off the bed. "I can go get my stuff..."
	Dean got up and quickly threw together his emergency invasion or otherwise weirdness bag. "I'm ready. The only thing I don't have are guns -- haven't figured out how to sneak one into my room yet."
	"We can grab those on the way," Sam suggested.
	"Sounds good. I can leave a message for Dawn to feed Hunter when you grab your stuff in case we're gone overnight."
	"Okay," Sam said, trying not to think about how angry Dawn would be if that happened. "I'll grab my stuff and meet you at the weapons locker?"
	"Sounds good."