He woke up with no trace to show that last night had happened. He didn’t wake up to the face of one Sam Winchester or his gun-loving brother Dean. He felt just fine, no lingering headaches clueing in that he had a vision the night before just outside a local pub having a karaoke night. In fact now, he was certain it had all been a dream, because his nose was not bleeding and his plain white shirt left no dried bloodstain yet he knew he had bled his nose last night and it had stained his shirt, so it had to be a dream. And what was he thinking, his luck couldn’t have been that good to run into a random guy claiming he could have visions just like he does, because that’s just crazy. There, his wallet was at the dressing table next to his bed, no one had stolen it from him, he was still in one piece and breathing, not cut up and thrown into some lake.

Yet he found no relief, none at all.

He had wished last night had happened, even if Dean Winchester was telling him that he wasn’t normal while easing the shotgun on his shoulder, because at least then he’d know he wasn’t going crazy, he figured being not normal was better than being crazy, that he wasn’t alone, that there was a Sam Winchester out there who has visions, just like him.

Now he felt alone. Back to square one. Back to trying to make sense out of these visions.

Got up and grabbed for his sketchpad, which was lying on the study table, exactly where he had left them the night before. There was a sudden need to start sketching, to unload all these disturbing images from his mind, to get that release. He’d prefer a drink to go along with it but he didn’t think he could put this off any longer. Didn’t think his roommate would appreciate seeing him slouched at a corner, sketching away at useless dreams that has no meaning whatsoever and it felt like the most sensible thing to do, to sketch this, while his roommate was away.

By the time he heard the sliding of the key card followed by the creaking of the opened door, it felt like he had been sketching for hours. He took one last look at what he had drawn and slammed the pad shut and shoved it to a corner and got up from his seat, unsure what he should pretend to be doing, for a brief second thought about doing star jumps but knew the sight of him exercising would alarm anyone who knew him well. So he stood there, in the middle of the room, arms folded against his chests because now, now he realised he was cold and the air con was blasting cold air like it was friggin winter and he was still in his cut off camo pants, which had loose asphalts sticking at the edges and then noticed the scraped knees and the still bleeding wounds and gasped and wondered how, how that had came about if last night hadn’t been real.

Maybe it’s real.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe go fuck yourself.

“Good morning sunshine! I see you’ve decided to come back to the land of the living.”

It was lame and kind of odd, considering how pissed off Brian was at him the night before. In fact it had been the very reason why he had left their room and went off to the pub on his own. Did he go to the pub? Maybe. It could still be a dream. Maybe he had been in this room all the time and just shut everyone out until he fell asleep? Fuck this.

“Yeah…rough night.” His shirt had no bloodstains, his wallet still on the table, this wasn’t making any sense. He made his way to the dressing table and grabbed his wallet, checking to see if the cash was still in there.

“Yeah, about last night, I’m sorry I yelled at you, I guess you can say I was a little stressed.” A little stressed? How about me, he thought. He was a lot of stress, did anyone understand? Was Brian even thinking about him when he decided to yell at him to stop talking crazy? Nick you’re talking crazy again, can’t you see it? See it? Yeah he could see just fine all right, in fact he could see too much, things he shouldn’t be seeing but it was there, and there was no stopping it and Lord, he could hear just fine too. In fact his hearing was too damn fine, that he could hear what the yellow eyed guy sounded like in his fucking head! “You shouldn’t have gone to the pub alone Nick, I mean what if you-”

“I went to the pub?”

Brian looked at him as if to say ‘well duh’. “You smelled like whiskey when I got back last night. Passed out on the bed with blood all over your shirt, I thought you’d been in a fight but Howie said it’s from a nosebleed since there’s no swelling.”

“My shirt’s clean.”

“Well yeah, can’t let you sleep with that shirt on, can we?”

Everything fell into place yet one huge piece of the puzzle remained lost. Where do Sam and Dean fit into this picture? Had he made them up? That wouldn’t be all that surprising considering.

“You hurt your knees, I didn’t notice that last night.”

Did two strangers just get into his room and put him to bed and left and no one, not even stealth Howie, noticed? Did this mean the Winchesters exist and not just a fragment of his fucked up imagination?

“…Nicky?”

What? “What?”

“I asked if you wanna go take a shower and then we can go have breakfast at the diner?”

It didn’t make sense. If last night had happened, if someone really did come to save his ass from dying in a sorry excuse for a pub, if this someone had came all the way to let him know that he wasn’t alone in this stupid, crazy, out of this world visions he had been having, why would they just up and leave and not explain, to give some kind of answer to this whole…puzzle?

“Nicky, I’m trying to apologise here but you’re not making it any easier on me man.”

Blinked once, twice, and third time just to be sure. Nodded his head and decided for shower, because everything else was just too complicated and it was only eight in the morning, his brain usually work after noon.

“Yeah shower…then coffee, lots of coffee.”

= =

The fact that he had said coffee wasn’t lost on him. He wasn’t a coffee person, especially for one that is strong and black, that was AJ’s choice of beverage, to get caffeine in his system. Coffee and cigarette and you could shut him up, most of the time. Now him, he prefers a tall, super sized cup of strawberry milkshake. AJ loves to tease him about that, every opportunity given, he’d say dude, at least get the chocolate one. But this morning he needed something bitter, something that would wake him up and disgust him tremendously, burn his tongue until he’s pulled back to the present, to the problem at hand, instead of something sweet and which would lull him to this happy stupor, high on sugar. He needed to think, to figure it out.

“You sure about coffee? Cause I have cash and this is apology breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“I really think you should start investing in some good kneepads Nick, and I’m not trying to make fun of you at all okay? What if one of these days you’re going to fall wrongly and dislocate your ankle or something and no one’s around? Oh like last night?”

“I’m good man. I just need to learn to control my body when it happened, maybe learn a new trick to stop me from falling in the first place, I don’t know…”

“Will you consider going for another CAT scan?”

“Can we at least have breakfast first before we go into this?”

“I’m just worried Nick. What if it’s a tumour and we’re doing nothing to get it treated as soon as possible?”

“If there’s a tumour in my brain then it must be the size of a football considering I’m seeing and hearing things that shouldn’t be there and if that turns out to be right, then I’m as good as dead aren’t I?”

“Nick come on man, don’t say that.”

“I’m not crazy Brian, I’m aware of what’s going on and this,” waved sketchpad in the air. “This, is not crying out for attention.”

“I know, I’m sorry I said that.”

“You’re sorry about a lot of things this morning.” But you meant every word last night.

There wasn’t much to say after that, he figured even if Brian decided to continue with this ‘talk’ and tried to explain himself fully, he’d stop listening and just not care. It was nine in the morning, he needed coffee badly, his knees are hurting, those images he had drawn earlier was still haunting him, and who, pray tell, the fuck are Sam and Dean!

Disclaimer: 'maybe. maybe not. maybe go fuck yourself' is a line from the movie The Departed. I loved it so much, i felt compelled to add that in somehow.