[Scott] Day 18 (night): Psychics Anonymous (tag Sam, open)

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Night fell on the impromptu and nearly silent camp. Most everyone in the overland group sat or lie near the campfire, exhausted from the long march. The exceptions were Dean and Molly, who'd taken first watch, and Sam, who sat at the edge of the firelight whittling a piece of wood.

Now that the Doctor was deep into his healing trance, Scott was more than ready to turn in for the night. There was one last thing to do before he could. He strode over to Sam. "Hey," he said quietly, prompting the gangly kid to look up. "Do you still want to talk?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, if you're up to it."

Scott smiled mirthlessly as he sank to the ground a short distance away. "I look that bad, huh?" Sam shrugged, and Scott chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." He nodded at Sam's geometric carving. "That's pretty cool. What is it?"

Sam frowned at the half-carved wood for a moment before answering. "The Key of Solomon." Scott shook his head, puzzled. "A protective symbol."

"Protection from... demons?" Sam nodded solemnly. Scott studied the straight lines crisscrossing the circle Sam had carved. "I didn't think demons existed before coming here," Scott added quietly.

Sam deepened one of the lines with the tip of his knife. "Demons, and lots of other things."

"Great," Scott muttered, thinking of what Mara had been through. (If Sam and Dean hunt these things like they claim, at least someone's fighting back.) The thought was somewhat heartening. "You said you're psychic," Scott stated, keeping his voice down. "Is that why you and your brother hunt demons?"

Sam barked a laugh, of all things. "No. Well, sort of." Scott raised an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a long story," Sam said with a sigh. He continued in a near whisper. "Something's happening to me. Started earlier this year. I have dreams... nightmares... that come true. I never know what I'm going to see when I close my eyes. I try to sleep for only an hour or two at a time to avoid them, but I can't. Now I dream when I'm awake. Premonitions, visions, I guess. Complete with skull-splitting headaches. They'll get Dean and me killed if it keeps up like this." The young man looked positively miserable.

Scott opened his shields a bit to push reassurance to the kid. Sam sat a little straighter. "You're sure it's something psychic?" Sam frowned defensively. "You and your brother mentioned magic before, and again, since coming here, I know that magic exists, too."

"It's a psychic thing. Missouri and the damned demon said so."

Scott blinked, puzzled. "Missouri?"

Sam nodded. "She's a psychic. Helped my family." The young man was quiet for a few moments. Fear pushed aside some of his bitterness and resignation. "Max was psychic, too. Like me, 'cept better at telekinesis."

"You're precognitive and telekinetic?"

Sam's mirthless half-smile returned. "I guess. I've only done it -- moved stuff -- once. Didn't know what I was doing. I had to get to Dean before Max killed him."

Scott stared at Sam, horrified. "Max *was* psychic? He died?"

Sam nodded. "He was psychotic. Not sure if it was from abuse or being psychic." He finally looked up from the carving and met Scott's eyes. "You're psychic and sane. Am I gonna lose it?"

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[Sam] Sanity check (open tag)

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After pushing the memory of Max's lifeless body aside, Sam asked, "You're psychic and sane. Am I gonna lose it?" He prayed that the answer would be "no."

Frowning, Scott studied his hands for a few long moments. Frustration joined his exhaustion. Finally he replied, "I don't know. Ami might. Or Damon. But they're not here." Scott glanced at the Doctor's unnaturally still form on the far side of the campfire. "You could ask the Doctor, too. He's telepathic. His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, though." Sam echoed Scott's wan smile at the attempt at humor.

"Before coming here I knew of only one other psychic -- my dad," Scott continued. He broke eye contact, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "Apparently there are all sorts of psychics. A few of the different type are here, along with witches, time travelers, and all sort of other weirdness." The older man met Sam's eyes. "I think you need to find out if anyone here with psychic abilities is like you. I can tell you who you're not like: the Doctor, Ripley, River, and me."

Sam frowned thoughtfully. "How do you know that?"

"Deduction," Scott replied with a cryptic smile that soon faded to seriousness. "If there's a physical component to your headaches, I might be able to help with that." He stifled a yawn. "Starting tomorrow. I'm telekinetic, too, so I show you how to practice if you want." Sam shivered involuntarily at the thought of deliberately trying to use the abilities that, along with the demon, were ruining his life. Scott gave him a sympathetic smile. "I was freaked out at first, too. Try to get past it. Telekinesis is really, really useful."

Sam nodded despite his lingering apprehension. Scott yawned again, prompting Sam to do the same. "Thanks," Sam said sincerely. "I'll sleep on it."

"Okay," Scott agreed as he got to his feet. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah. Bright and early, I'm sure." With a tired smile Scott moved back to the campfire. Sam watched him for a moment longer, wondering what sort of psychic he was. (Hell, I'd like to know what sort of psychic *I* am.) Sighing, Sam returned his attention to the fledgling wooden amulet. He was too keyed up to sleep just yet.

[Dean] Sanity check (open tag)

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Dean was watching the perimeter and Sam talking to Scott both at the same time. Dean frowned, it didn't take much to figure out why Sam would want to talk to the psychic in low voices. Dean knew people with special powers. Knew quite a few of them. Heck, the last 24 hours doubled that number. But it didn't matter, none of those people were Sam. However, he did know someone who was quite like Sam. Knew someone who was like Sam who almost killed him. His name was Max, and he was psychotic.

Not that Sam hadn't tried to kill him before. There have been times when one or the other have been overtaken, impersonated, you name it. But this was different, this was Sam, and Max was psychotic.

That only began to touch on the concern that Dean had for Sam's new abilities. Dean heaved a big sigh and got up to walk the perimeter. He never did good just sitting around. There's the whole Demon thing and headaches and premonitions. /Crap. Too much, just too much. Why couldn't Sammy just stay Sammy. Dean thought with anguish.

As Dean was contemplating his life and his brother, he stumbled upon Molly in a tree perch. At first, he grabbed for his gun because he couldn't make out who or what it was and thought it might be an intruder. but moonlight appeared from behind the clouds and fell upon her hair and left little doubt after that.

As the cloud continued to disperse, Dean realized why he didn't recognize her in the first place. She was an amazing contortionist. Dean leaned back against the trunk and enjoed the view for a few long moments before he continued the perimeter check. Take your pleasures where you could was one of Dean's mottos. Because you just can't tell when life's gonna start sucking again.

[Mayday] Sanity? What sanity? (tag Sam, Dean if he wanders over, open)

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OOC: Sorry, didn't get home until VERY late last night, and work is nuts. So this is shorter than I'd like. More later if/when I get time.

"Let go of me!" Mary Jane shrieked and struggled against her captors, but it was useless as hands grabbed her and dragged her into the trees, seemingly uncaring that she was nine months pregnant. "Help! May!"

May launched off a branch into the trees after them, but the darkness seemed to swallow her, distorting and twisting and making it impossible to see where they had gone. She could still hear her mother screaming, but it came from all around her. When she finally landed in the next open clearing, the screams had stopped. There were no tracks, no trails, no markers to indicate where she was or where they'd gone.

"Where is she?" She turned, and suddenly her father was there, staring at her in horror. "Why didn't you stop them?"

"I--I--" May stammered.

"How could you? I didn't let you wear the costume so you could screw up like this!"

"Dad, please--" /Wait a second, that doesn't sound right.../

May opened her eyes and found herself staring at Chris, who was sleeping against a tree and oblivious to her thrashing in her sleep. She groaned and sat up, rubbing her head. She didn't remember dozing off, but it can't have been long since Molly was nudging Jon awake for the next shift. Since she'd volunteered for third watch, that meant she had another hour. Unless she'd slept through several rotations. Which would figure, given her track record so far.

Scott was sitting by the Doctor, who was still out for the count. May sighed. She knew, logically, that she could not have stopped the projectile with her hands full, and she couldn't have predicted what was going to happen, but she still felt bad about it.

She spotted Sam then, sitting a bit apart from the others and intently focused on his carving. Dean was probably on his way back for the changing of the guard. She wondered if Dean had gotten the chance to tell Sam about her yet.

He looked pretty focused on what he was doing, but he was still up, neither of them were on watch and there was at least a chance of a semi-private conversation now. "Hey," she greeted quietly. "Got a sec?"

[Sam] A real-life superheroine! (tag May, open)

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Light footsteps approached, prompting Sam to look up from his carving. "Hey. Got a sec?" May asked.

"Yeah, sure," Sam smiled genuinely. (Leave it to Dean to befriend a gorgeous, superpowered mutant,) he thought. May's agility, strength, and stamina were impossible to ignore, at least on the Isle of Weird. As much as he wished that she hadn't gotten caught in the demon's spell, Sam was glad she was there. He trusted his brother's allies. From what the others had said, on the island allies were more important than ever.

May gracefully sat down on the grassy jungle floor. "Can't sleep?" Sam prompted.

[Mayday] Not feeling all that super (tag Sam, open)

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"Not for lack of trying," May answered as she sat down again and rubbed her face with her hands. "Ugh. I think my subconscious is out to get me."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. So what's up?"

"Well, uh... I can't really think of a non-awkward way to ask this," May admitted. "Did Dean get a chance to tell you how we really met? And about my, uh, side job?" She made a face at her choice of words, absently toying with a bit of fabric on her wrists. The strips were getting loose; she needed to either secure them or re-wrap them soon.

[Sam] Not feeling all that super (tag May, open)

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Sam grinned, wondering what May was hiding with the strips of fabric. She hadn't been wearing them yesterday. "Yeah, he caught me up on how you two met. That's a hell of a side job you've got. The pay's probably not too good, but at least you don't have to worry about what to wear."

[Mayday] Not feeling all that super (tag Sam, Dean, open)

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OOC: I could wrap this up, but this had to be addressed re: Mayday's many wardrobe malfunctions in SG canon.

May nearly laughed out loud at that, but sensing the need for quiet, she tried to stifle it and let out a snort instead. Sam looked surprised. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I -" She recovered, shaking her head. "You have NO idea how wrong you are about that. I've had the worst luck with, uh, wardrobe."

"This is something Dean's going to want to hear, isn't it?"

She turned bright red and lowered her voice. "No, not THAT bad, thank God. But I've learned the hard way that you do NOT put spandex in the dryer. Ever. Dad wouldn't let me live it down for weeks."

Actually, maybe Dean WOULD have wanted to be around then, considering she'd been literally coming apart at the seams. But she didn't mention that.

Dean chose that moment to pass by. "What are you two lovebirds talking about?"

"Oh, nothing," May replied innocently. Not that she expected him to buy it.