Kevin told him once, when he was lying on the hospital bed with intravenous drip feeding saline solution into his system because he was dehydrated, overworked and burning a fever in the middle of a major tour with blizzards reported all over the state they were currently stuck in, that feeling something is always better than nothing, that numbness is a man’s downfall, wrapped with sweet promises, designed to led men astray.

How do you think men lost compassion in the first place Nicky? How come we’re reading of sons killing their own mother on the papers, or men kicking stray puppies or dropping them down the 13th floor? They stopped feeling. They welcomed the numb, forget about the pain, you know? But pain is good, it means you’re alive, breathing.

Kevin said that after he had whispered a ‘hurt’ in response to his ‘how are you feeling kiddo?’ question. Kevin was also seated in the comfort of the hospital chair, with his hand resting on top of his own, his voice soft and gentle and his face sympathetic while he said it.

In his delirious state, he had wanted to tell Kevin that perhaps he might want to take that piece of advice down to the 2nd floor through the labour ward and say that to a woman who was seconds away from pushing, lets see who came out of this hospital alive, breathing.

What does Kevin know really? He wanted, needed, numb right now, wrapped in sweet promises and delivered to him on the doorstep, because this pain, this burden of having to witness all those deaths…it was killing him, and being dead sounded like a bliss to him right now.

And this room, this place that he had called home for the last five days, it was suffocating, constantly mocking his arrival there, knew he didn’t belong. Whatever happened to five star hotels and VIP lounges Nick? Go home kid, nothing here for you to see.

“Dude did you have another vision?”

The grip he had on his 2B pencil tightened immediately. The strokes interrupted mid sketch and darkened in some angles where it shouldn’t. He nodded. “Last night.”

“I thought you said you drew that already.”

“It’s something else.”

“Yeah?”

Nodded. He didn’t feel like talking too much, didn’t feel like he needed to explain or describe what he was sketching because he was done looking for approval, for an acknowledgment, for someone to look at it and said Nick, I believe you. He wasn’t even sure if Kevin had believed him when he first saw those pictures.

“Do I get to see them?”

“Only if you behave.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I know.”

Frustrated sigh. He didn’t even look up, didn’t feel like telling his friend he was sorry for saying that, for making things even more difficult than they already were. Even though he knew how much AJ needed that, to hear it from him, to let him know that he was doing all right, that this, being here with him, was helpful enough.

Brian had been hovering near Howie ever since they made it back to their room. Why Howie and AJ had followed them back instead of going to their own room next door was beyond him. Maybe Howie didn’t want AJ to hover around him and keep suggesting porn sites every five minutes and maybe AJ wanted some company while Howie hogged the laptop.

He wasn’t sure what Howie and Brian were looking for, it seemed pointless to find out more about a dead person, because there was no way for you to turn it around, to change something that had already happened.

“I’ll go take that.”

The bed creaked noisily as AJ got up and made a beeline for the door. He must have been really bored to volunteer, and when had someone knocked on the door anyway?

“You better had not called for pizza AJ, we’re running out of cash man and the nearest ATM machine is nowhere near at all,” Brian sighed. He stole a glance at his two friends, seated next to each other on the side table, eyes never once leaving the screen.

“Man, now I really wish I had called for pizza.”

He was back to the sketching by the time the door creaked open. He didn’t think there was anything in this motel, in this room, that didn’t creak. The air con sometimes reminded him of an old man wheezing, the pipes in the shower would groan when the pressure got too high, the beds creak, the floorboards squeak…

“Oh, you’re not Nick.” He knew that voice sounded familiar somehow but for the life of him, couldn’t place where he had heard it.

“Well thank the Lord for small miracles,” AJ chipped, almost too brightly. He looked up from the pad but AJ had the door opened big enough to accommodate himself, standing in the opening and hiding the view of whoever it was that was on the other side.

“Sorry man, must’ve got the wrong room.” He knew that voice too. “Come on Sam, maybe he’d checked himself out.”

Sam? Sam Winchester? Fuck!

“Wait, I didn’t say there isn’t a Nick in this room, I just said I’m not Nick.” AJ and his stupid logic.

He dropped the sketch carelessly on the bed and practically flew across the room (which wasn’t saying much because the room wasn’t all that spacious in the first place), pushed AJ aside and stood face to face with a very startled Sam Winchester and the back of Dean’s leather jacket as he was about to leave.

“It’s really you.” It sounded stupid, like someone who had missed someone so much and didn’t think that someone was coming back but then he did and he was glad and nothing could stop the sissy things that came out of his mouth. It’s really you?

“Hey, sorry for leaving the way we did last night.”

Dean, sans shotgun, had turned around again and gave him a nod as greeting and he wasn’t sure what he should do, wondered if he would get a black eye if he’d say the same thing to the gun wielding guy. He jerked his chin a little as greeting and hoped it was tough enough to warrant some kind of warning, hopefully it came off as guns have nothing on me so don’t even bother. Of course he also remembered passing out in front of these strangers twice, in a night, and decided he was pushing his luck.

“I thought it wasn’t real at all,” he smiled, or at least he thought he did, it might come off as a grimace or a smirk or something really goofy. “So last night-”

“It wasn’t a dream, everything that you think happened, really did,” Sam offered. “I’m sorry we left you the way we did but it wasn’t safe for us and we had to go.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Why wasn’t it safe for them? Did that mean it was safe for him? Was that why it was okay to leave a passed out him alone? What if it wasn’t safe for him in the first place, did this mean they had left him to save their own asses?

“Hey look Nick, I know this is kind of sudden and all but you think you can let us in? It’d be better to you know, talk-”

“What? Yeah…yeah…of course, please, come on in,” he opened the door all the way and turned back into the room and realised this would be awkward for everyone. In his moment of total surprise, he had forgotten all about his friends; how could he explain this without sounding even crazier than he already