Dean was confused at her words. "Julie?" he said slowly, not sure he'd heard right. "The Matthews kid? That's what they told you?"
Sara looked down and twisted her hands in her lap. "Yes. It was clear this time. The voices in my head — cold and absolute. It said, 'Kill the girl.'" She shuddered and swallowed.
Dean narrowed his eyes. He ran it over in his head: he'd been certain the target was Ethan according to the plot of the show. But why the hell did the message changes from Ethan to Julie? Dean thought and thought but nothing came to mind.
Sara looked up and met Dean's eyes. "Do you know the best part?" she asked. "I didn't listen to them."
Her voice was quiet but firm. "I fought the voices. I pushed them away. I fought with everything I had. The seizure came because I resisted — my body broke. But I didn't do what they told me."
Dean watched her. Her face was tight, but she seemed clearer. Stronger in a small, fierce way.
"They haven't bothered me like that since," Sara said. "Usually the whispering never stops. It claws at you for hours. But after that fight— nothing. Quiet."
She pushed the plate Dean brought a little closer, as if the motion steadied her. "That smile you saw wasn't happiness," she added. "It was relief. It felt like winning a fight inside me. Like taking my voice back for a moment. Proof I could fight it."
Dean felt something tighten in his chest. Relief, and a small hope. Still, a question pressed on him. Why did the target change? Why did the voices back off so easily after she resisted?
He kept his doubt off his face. Sara needed to feel safe. He pressed her shoulder and smiled for real. "That's amazing.. Sara. I'm glad you fought it. You did the right thing."
Sara relaxed a little. "It's all because of you," she said. "I thought I'd be too scared, but after talking with you I knew I couldn't let it happen again."
Dean softened his voice,"Good. If anything else happens, tell me. Every message, every vision, even small details, okay?"
She swallowed and nodded. "I will."
"You're not alone in this," Dean said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. "We both want answers. We'll figure it out together."
Sara blinked and gave him a tired smile. "Okay," she whispered.
Dean stood up. "Take care. I'll leave you to rest."
Sara shook her head quickly. "I'm fine," she said. "But could you stay a while? I'd like to actually get to know you — properly this time."
Dean hesitated, then nodded. "All right."
He moved to the couch against the far wall. It sagged under his weight. The house was neat but bare. A single lamp lit the room. Sara sat in the chair across from him with one knee pulled up. Plates of cold diner food sat on the table between them. For a moment they were quiet, listening to the creaks of the house and the faint sounds of the town outside.
"So," Dean said at last. "Tell me something that isn't ghosts and murders."
For a while, they talked about their lives before the town—simple, ordinary things that made the heaviness lift a little. It wasn't deep or heavy, just enough to remind them they were still people, not just survivors.
After some time, Dean stood. "Get some rest," he said gently.
Sara nodded, looking calmer. "Thanks for staying."
He gave her a faint smile before heading towards the door.
Dean stepped out of Sara's house and shut the door. He walked toward the post office. He planned to brush his teeth and take a shower before the choosing ceremony.
As he walked, he thought about the water in town. That morning he had asked Kenny about it. Kenny told him the water worked like the electricity—always available. The taps ran without stopping, and the water was safe to drink. It sounded strange, but it was the only answer he got. The water flowed clean and steady. People didn't ration it or line up for it. Dean knew they wouldn't have lasted seven years here if the water had been unreliable.
Rain didn't come often in this place. Even when it did, it was never enough to keep a whole town alive. The endless tap water explained how people had survived.
Still, Dean couldn't shake his doubts. Maybe the water wasn't as harmless as people thought. What if it contained something—some drug or chemical? That could explain why people saw monsters and heard voices. Maybe the water made their minds weak, blurring the line between real and unreal. It was only a theory, but it stuck with him.
Then again Dean himself hadn't touched the water right after arriving. He was careful. But even then, he saw the monsters with his own eyes. Donna had too. If the water was the cause, that wouldn't make sense.
Theories came easy in this place. Everyone had one. Some said it was a government experiment. Others thought it was a curse or a time loop. Everyone made up answers to keep themselves steady.
Dean walked back to his car, parked a little crooked on the street. He opened the trunk and pulled out his travel bag. Everything was still packed the way he'd left it—his towel, a tube of toothpaste, his toothbrush, and clean clothes. He carried them to Boyd's house.
A few minutes later he stepped back outside. His hair was damp, his face clean, and he wore a fresh shirt and jeans. He felt better, the dirt of the night finally washed away. The morning air was cool, the sun bright but not yet hot. He stood on the porch for a moment, looking at the empty street. The choosing ceremony wasn't until later. He still had time.
He left the porch and walked down the road. Maybe he could find Kenny and spend time with him.
As he neared Frank and Lauren's house, the sound of laughter and conversation reached him.
On the porch, Jim and Tabitha Matthews were sitting in old chairs along with Frank and Lauren. Julie stood in the playground, arms crossed, watching over Ethan and Maegan who were running near the swing set. Their laughter was clear in the quiet morning. Dean stopped without thinking.
Then Megan spotted him. Her face lit up, and she darted toward him with a squeal.
"Dean!" she shouted, her voice carrying across the yard.
Dean grinned as she ran up, nearly tripping over her own feet in her rush. He crouched slightly to meet her halfway.
"Got a new friend, big kid?" he asked, smiling as he ruffled her hair.
Megan giggled. "Ethan showed me how to jump, but I can go higher than him!" She pointed back at her new friend.
Dean chuckled. "Already beating him, huh?"
Megan nodded. "He said I'm too little, but I'm not!"
Ethan called from the swing. "Don't believe her! She cheats!"
Dean raised his eyebrows at Megan. "That true?" he teased.
She crossed her arms, smiling. "No! He's just mad I swing higher and faster." She then tugged his sleeve, bouncing with excitement and asked, "Are you coming to play too?"
Dean looked over at the porch, where the two couples were sitting, their faces calm in the soft morning light. Then he glanced back down at Maegan, still tugging eagerly at his sleeve.
"How about you play with Ethan for now?" he said gently. "I'll join in later, okay?"
Maegan's face fell slightly, her bottom lip poking out in a soft pout. "But you promise you'll come?"
Dean smiled, crouching down again to meet her eyes. "Promise," he said clearly, giving her hair another affectionate ruffle.
That did the trick. Maegan brightened, gave a quick nod, and turned on her heel, shouting back at Ethan as she ran toward the swings. "My turn!"
Dean chuckled under his breath and rose to his feet. With a relaxed pace, he made his way up to the porch where Frank, Lauren, Jim, and Tabitha were seated. They looked up as he approached.
"Morning," Dean said, offering a nod and a polite smile.
"Morning," Frank returned with a nod of his own.
"Good to see you, Dean," Lauren added, her voice warm.
Jim said, leaning forward slightly. "Glad you're up and about."
Dean's gaze shifted to the Matthews couple. "How are you guys holding up?" he asked, his tone gentler now.
Jim exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Better than yesterday," he admitted. "Still a little… shaken, I guess. But we're getting there."
Tabitha, seated close beside him, gave a small, grateful smile. "Thank you for convincing us to go to the clinic yesterday."
Dean shook his head. "No problem. You oughta thank Boyd too — he's the one who kept pushing to make sure you got inside right away."
Tabitha nodded. "We already did. He came by this morning, actually. Checked on us, made sure we were all right. I don't know how to thank him for that."
Jim gave a low laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Feels strange to even say 'we're all right' after last night. Because for a while there, I didn't think we'd make it."
Dean leaned a shoulder against the porch railing, his expression steady. "You made it. That's what matters."
"Barely," Jim muttered. He rubbed his face with both hands and sat back in the chair. "That thing… the monster. It was right there. I swear I could feel it breathing on me before running towards Tom's house."
Tabitha's eyes tightened. She hugged her arms around herself as if she could still feel that cold presence behind her. "And that fucking creepy smile of theirs… the way they walk, like they have all the time in the world, like they knew we wouldn't be able to get out of here."
Dean stayed quiet, letting them get it out. He knew that first close encounter carved deeper than words could explain.
After a moment Dean cleared his throat and spoke, steady but firm. "If any of you find anything — a clue, a scrap, any conclusion — please tell me about it. We'll pool them together and see if they make any sense."
What really burned him up about this town was how everyone insisted on doing everything alone. Nobody shared the important things — the strange discoveries, the little details that might actually matter. Because of that, most people stayed in the dark. Take Victor, for example. The guy knew a hell of a lot about this place, but no one cared enough to stick around him, to figure out what he was up to all day. Sure, Victor was stubborn, but with enough persistence, he might've opened up and shared some real clues.
Jim shifted in his chair, nodding slowly. "You're right. We won't keep anything to ourselves."
Tabitha's arms loosened around her frame. She glanced at Dean, her voice soft but sincere. "We'll share what we find. I promise. No secrets."
Dean studied them both for a moment and gave a small nod, some of the tightness easing from his chest. Maybe they meant it. Maybe this time it would be different.
Dean heard footsteps crunching on the gravel. He turned and saw Kenny coming toward the porch, walking quickly.
"Hey," Kenny called out, motioning with his hand. "It's time."
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