Sam hadn't had a premonition in over a year, but the feeling that washed over him a split second before his phone lit up with an unrecognized number sent a shiver down his spine. Suddenly, he wanted to do anything except answer.

He let it ring three, four, five times before tossing Dean a haunted look and tapping the answer button.

"Hey, Uh … I'm looking for Sam Winchester?"

Sam was silent a moment, almost recognizing the voice.

"Who's calling?"

"Old friend. Name's Danny Ritter."

Sam's eyes widened and a grin spread across his face before he could help himself. He tossed a pen at Dean to get his attention and pointed to his phone.

"Danny? No way! What's it been, like six years?"

"Sammy, is that you?"

Dean smiled, sinking down onto the motel bed. "Put him on speaker."

"Yeah, it's me, man. Hey Danny, Dean's here. I'm putting you on speaker."

"Yeah? Hey Dean!"

"Hey yourself, Danny. How's Ron?"

"Dad's good. He said to tell you guys hello. I think he misses you camping out over his garage. He's back to being an island again."

Sam snorted, "We sort of miss that too. Sure beat these damp motel rooms."

"Well, you know, anytime you need a place to stay, the old room is still available. In fact, I'm sorta hoping you'll be needing it sooner than later."

Sam's forehead frowned, "Yeah? What's goin' on? You need help?" He could feel Dean's worry from across the room.

"No. No, nothing like that. It's just, well. I have some pretty big news, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I'm getting married, man."

"What!" Dean and Sam exclaimed simultaneously.

Danny chuckled, "Funny, that's was Dad's reaction too. What's so unbelievable about me finally tying the knot. I am 29, you know."

"What? No, nothing. Just kind of unexpected is all. Is it … what was her name, Janet?"

"Janet? Janet …" They could tell Danny was reaching. "Oh! Oh hell no!"

Sam laughed, and Dean snorted.

"No, uh … her name's Jaime, and you're going to love her. At least I hope."

"So when's the bachelor party, Danny?" Dean piped up, "cause we are so there."

Well, the wedding is in three weeks, so right around there, I guess. You're both invited, and sorry for the late notice, but Jaime and I just realized it ourselves a few days ago. Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah, Man?"

"Uh, I could use a best man?"

And at those words, Sam's vision suddenly shifted. For an instant, he was in a darkly paneled room, with the overwhelming taste of fear in his mouth and the coppery smell of blood all around him. Then, like a wisp, it was gone, and Danny's voice was questioning him in concern. "Hey Sammy? You, uh, didn't pass out or anything?"

Sam tried to clear his head, though he could feel Dean's eyes on him in concern. "What? Oh, no. I mean, yes! Of course! Best man!"

"So you'll do it? Stand up for me, I mean? And maybe catch me when I faint?"

Sam chuckled. "Absolutely. I'll bring my catcher's mitt."

"Whew! That's a relief. I hated having to rely on Dad. He never could catch a baseball for shit."

Both boys laughed.

"Oh, and, uh, Dean?"

"Right here."

"Groomsman, man? Please?"

Dean blanched. "Uh … "

Sam piped up, "He said sure, Danny." And laughed as Dean chucked the pen back at him full speed.

"Thanks Guys! I sure appreciate it. So, great! Listen. Give me a call when you're on your way, and I'll break out the vacuum and the dust cloth for over the garage, okay?"

"Will do, Danny. Hey, we're sort of hell and gone from Illinois at the moment and tying up some loose ends, so it might be a week or two."

"No worries. That should still give me plenty of time to get you both to the rental shop."

Dean groaned.

Danny chuckled. "Poor Dean. I promise I'll make up for the formal attire with tons of beer."

"You had him at beer, Danny." Sam grinned, disconnecting the call.

And as he sat there, watching Dean mourn exaggeratedly over having to don a tux, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to let up. He watched Dean move around the room with his usual easy grace, but suddenly, the picture shifted again, and he saw Dean moving as though in slow motion. His brother was jerky and off-kilter as though controlled by a marionette, and when he turned to speak to Sam, his eyes looked dead and empty.

"Sam?"

Sam flinched. He blinked. When he opened his eyes, Dean was back to normal, staring at him in concern. "Sam? You okay?"

Sam smiled nervously and tried to laugh it off, but frowned when he realized Dean was staring at his hands.

They were shaking. His hands were shaking, and his brother had dead eyes, and there was the pervading scent of blood surrounding him.

Sure, he was fine.