A/N: I was re-watching old episodes and I remembered how much I love Missouri. She's just such an awesome character, and I thought to myself What if they went back to see her, when Sam was trying to find a way to save Dean? The result is this one-shot, which I'm not entirely happy with, but I'll post anyway. It takes place sometime during season three, probably in the beginning part of the season. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I wish it was mine. Then again, I also wish that I was an award-winning author, I owned a private jet, my college tuition was paid in full, and that Jensen Ackles and Jared Padelecki lived in my closet. So much for wishes.

Psychic Readings

The moment she opens the door and lays eyes on him, Missouri hisses.

"Boy, you've gotten yourself in a whole heap of trouble, haven't you?"

Dean glares at his brother and huddles down in the confines of his jacket, avoiding the psychic's sharp gaze. She hold the door open and he walks in past her, sitting on the couch, not even thinking of propping his feet up on her coffee table.

Sam steps into the doorway and smiles a little at Missouri. "Good to see you again."

She pats him on the shoulder. "You're a good boy, Sam." She says, fondly. "C'mon in and I'll see what I can do for you both." She ushers him into the living room and he sits next to his brother, ignoring the sharp gaze that he gets.

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Dean mutters under his breath, huddling deeper in his leather jacket, as though trying to burrow away from the world. Sam shoots him an annoyed kind of you-promised look, the kind that can guilt Dean into doing almost anything.

Missouri sits across from them and stares at Dean, her eyes wide, her back rigid. He avoids her gaze, keeping his head down. After a long, tense moment of silence, she closes her eyes and lets out a long hiss of breath.

"There's darkness closing in around you, Dean. Gettin' closer every day, sinking its hooks into you." She opens her eyes. "How long did you get?"

"A year." He says, in a quiet voice.

"How much left?"

"Six months."

"Can you do anything?" Sam asks, leaning forwards, his eyes wide an hopeful. Missouri holds his gaze and then, slowly, shakes her head.

"I don't have that kind of power, hon. The power you need to fight this, to break this…."

"No one is going to break this." Dean says, in a powerful voice. "And no one is going to try. Sam, I let you drag me here, but this stops now. We are not going to fight this, understand?" His voice is that of an older brother, but more than that, his tone is that of their father. The unshakable, authoritative tone that made them snap to attention any time he used it. Sam stiffens, the same way he did whenever their father used that tone on him.

"Dean, I'm not going to let you go to hell."

Dean's eyes swing up and bore right into his brother's eyes.

"Yes, you are. There is no discussion involved in this, Sam. I'm going to hell and you are going to stay here and keep fighting." He turns towards Missouri, meeting her gaze for the first time. "Tell him that it's hopeless. Tell him that there is nothing that he can do."

She looks into his eyes and reads the message there. In her mind she knows that there are things they could try, powers they could call upon, loopholes that they could try. But she reads in Dean's eyes the hopelessness of the situation; she reads in his eyes that if they try, Sam will die.

She meets Sam's gaze and shakes her head slowly, putting her sorrow into her gaze.

"He's right, hon. There's nothing you can do."

Sam lifts his chin, and the look in his eyes is one that she has seen before. It is the one she had seen before in his father's eyes, when John was declaring with all his being that he would kill the sonofabitch that killed Mary.

"Thank you, Missouri." He says softly. "But I'm not giving up."

Dean makes a sound in the back of his throat and opens his mouth to start the argument anew. Missouri holds up a hand.

"How would you boys like a nice home-cooked meal?"

Dean's eyes warn Sam that the argument is not close to being finished, but the lure of his stomach silences him for now.

Sam's eyes warn right back that he is not giving up, and that if there is a way, he will find it, but the lure of food is too much for him too.

And Missouri, watching the boys who are so much like their father, tries to see what the future holds for them and comes up with nothing.

Fate hovers, watching, waiting, deciding.

They have the power to change fate, to change destiny.

She wishes them the best of luck.