Disclaimer: OC's. I own them. I own the story as well. After that, I do not own anything.

A/N: Hey, plenty of updates going around here. ^_^ Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Visions

"You guys may think that you got the ball rolling, but I know for a fact that everything would've happened without your help. Hey, things are going to continue happening without your help. That's God's will. You can't change that. But I digress. My aunt's mansion had exploded, and I had been cold-cocked by the force of the blast. Not my shining moment, but hey, you can't win them all..."

A crash. The roar of flames. "Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare."

Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare. Oh, what confusing yet meaningful words.

Trish was screaming as she ran from the words that, until then, she had never heard.

And she knew why they were there.

Somehow, she just knew that they were a part of her future, she couldn't escape them, and that they were a part of her family's past.

Those sickening thoughts plagued her as she fought to escape the nightmare she was trapped in.

Never ending darkness. Never ending fear. I want out. Now.

Lara held Trish's hand as the ambulance rushed them to the hospital.

Aside from a few bruises, Lara had been in perfect shape. Trish, on the other hand, had a concussion- at least. Lara would be surprised if Trish didn't have some bruised ribs too.

Then Trish began thrashing.

She kicked the paramedic that was in the back with them in the shoulder before he realized what was happening as Trish began fighting off some phantom from wherever she was in her mind.

Lara grabbed Trish's arms to keep her from hurting herself as the paramedic sedated her, the man frazzled by her actions.

"Is this normal?" Lara asked him.

"No, not really. We're used to patients like her having seizures, not panic attacks while out cold." The man said. "I'm going to have to write this down," he said.

"Osservi non a me per la verità, dato che sono il burlone allineare." Trish whispered.

"What?" The man looked up at Lara as Lara quirked her eyebrow at him.

"I believe you should look to your patient for the answer, not me." Lara said.

The paramedic looked at Trish and shook his head. "She's a strange one." He muttered.

"You don't even know the half of it, sir." Lara said, looking down at Trish.

What have I gotten myself into? She wondered.

Lara shook her head. She had a feeling she would be asking herself that question for days to come.

Unfortunately, she couldn't be more right.

Eckhardt stood at the front of the rows of seats on the private jet, looking over his minions carefully.

Boaz looks incredibly beautiful today, Eckhardt thought, his harsh glare softening when he looked at her- though she was too busy playing Minesweeper on her laptop to notice. He had to frown at that.

Muler… He cringed as the virtually useless man ate another… Sandwich? Eckhardt couldn't be sure what the item was, though he was sure he heard a bicycle bell ring from under the bread.

Muler was the failed result of an experiment from years prior. Eckhardt had tried to get rid of him several times, but every time he shipped him off… He reappeared, much to Eckhardt's chagrin.

Gunderson… He shrugged. Nothing important there.

And then there was Karel. Karel was…

I'm pretty sure he's a professional cake decorator. He thought. What? Then why do I have him as a part of my team? He argued with himself, glaring at Karel.

Karel looked up from the book he was reading, gave Eckhardt a confused look, and then resumed reading.

Oh, that's right. I like cake. He decided.

Frowning even deeper, if that was possible, Eckhardt looked down his nose at his minions… And the woman he wished was his girlfriend.

It was hard to believe that Eckhardt could ever love, but he did love her.

"So far we are barely any closer to finding The Sleeper or the Obscura Paintings than we were a year ago. Gunderson," the large man straightened where he stood, "have your teams found anything yet?"

"We have found traces of The Sleeper in Turkey and my teams have begun careful work on excavating the site where The Sleeper is rumored to be located." Gunderson replied, not blinking and staring at the wall past Eckhardt's head.

Eckhardt's scowl grew even worse, if that was possible, before speaking. "'Rumored' or 'known'?" He growled.

"Forgive me Meister Eckhardt- we have definitive evidence that The Sleeper is buried there." Gunderson lied.

Eckhardt, buying the lie, nodded coldly. "Very well. Muler," he turned to the porky man nibbling on pork rinds, who choked down the last of the bit in his mouth, "how close are we to recreating The Sleeper's natural habitat?"

"W- we are ten times closer than we were a month ago. We have finally had the saplings take root and grow in a designated area outside of the Biodome, and the Pod is a few weeks short of being full grown." Muler said, giving Eckhardt a reason to lighten his scowl, but just barely.

Eckhardt raised his chin as the fat man cowered in terror. "Good. Boaz," he turned to the sullen woman, "how is the Proto coming along?"

She looked up from her laptop and sighed. "We have finally isolated the problem gene and we are getting closer to creating the perfect Proto, Sir." She said, tapping her fingers in impatience.

He nodded, his heart skipping a beat when their eyes met, before turning to Karel. "I trust you have located the man I have been looking for?" He asked, his chin raised. Hmm… I have to wonder why I have a cake decorator on that job…

"Yes, but he is currently away and will not be available for a few more months." Karel said, looking Eckhardt in the eye.

Eckhardt shrugged and looked them all over once more. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. I expect more progress by the end of next week, if not…" He left the threat open before returning to his seat while everyone but Karel shifted nervously.

As Lara followed the paramedics into the hospital, Trish on the gurney between them, she felt a little out of place. Trish certainly wasn't family or a friend of hers, yet she was tagging along, making sure that Trish was going to be all right.

Fortunately, the paramedics had quickly determined Trish was just stunned... But she was possibly suffering from some form of post traumatic stress disorder, and would need to be kept under a doctor's supervision before they could determine what caused the episode in the ambulance.

Somehow, Lara suspected that the answer to that question would not be found so easily.

She called Winston after signing Trish in, a little unsure what to do with herself. She'd never had to deal with something like that before; usually, she was the one on the gurney.

Her butler, meanwhile, promised to make some calls and then swing by the hospital with changes of clothes for both women.

"Thank you, Winston. Let's hope the answer to the million-dollar question is found quickly." She said with a sigh before hanging up and running a hand over her hair. She knew she looked like a mess, but that wasn't what was bothering her, fraying her nerves.

As she rubbed the back of her neck, she looked at the doors she had come in as they opened again.

She felt stuck to the floor as she watched through a murky, dream-like haze as a young blond man ran into the hospital, a young woman who looked almost identical to Trish right behind him. Her hair color was completely different- a blue-black color- and she had several tattoos. The pair bickered for several moments before going in separate directions, the man heading straight for Lara- or the front desk behind her- an ID in his hand while the woman went over to a tall, young man, hugging him in the form of a greeting.

Then Lara blinked and the vision was gone.

Looking around rapidly, she was stunned to find that she was the only one who saw the vision.

And even more disturbed when she realized it had been Trish standing there.

In Ravenna, long before Lara, Dean, and Trish were entranced and their telling story, someone was laying out the border pieces of their puzzle.

Benjamin Black strode down the back alleyway of a bar, his head low and his hands jammed into the pockets of his black trench coat, a black fedora perched on his head. He knew he was fooling no one with the disguise, but then again he knew he didn't need to disguise himself either. It was more of a comfort for his aging soul than anything else.

Turning onto the main sidewalk, he approached the front door of the bar, the glossy glass entrancing. He entered the bar silently, no one acknowledging him save for the bartender, who nodded towards the back.

He barely nodded in response as he went for the back room, quietly walking down the dimly lit hall, before stopping at a large, iron door, an even larger man guarding it.

A usual visitor, the man was not surprised to see him there and asked for no ID. The man nodded and opened the door, using a keycard, and allowing Benjamin through.

The door closed behind him, bathing the spiral staircase in blackness, before he removed his hands from his pockets, in one a lighter.

He flicked the lighter open, giving the stairwell a little light. Grumbling about the lack of light, he started down the stairs quietly, not quite silently though.

He reached the floor and snapped the lighter shut with an audible CLICK before continuing down the hallway lit with torches. The pieces of wood looked like they were right out of some movie set in a fantasy kingdom. Or a tomb.

Continuing to the end of the hall, he ran a hand over the smooth wall, the end of the tunnel, before pressing on a loose stone.

The stone groaned as the wall swung open, revealing a back tunnel, insects and other creepy creatures scurrying away from the sudden intrusion of their home.

"Hmm," Ben grunted, "looks like Theodara hasn't been here in a while." He said, more to himself than the creatures inside the tunnel.

He grabbed one of the torches from the wall to his left before stepping inside of the tunnel, his feet almost in a puddle. The pitted floor had seen better days.

As the door swung shut behind him, he looked out one last time, the light catching on his eyes… Supernatural eyes…

Lying on a hospital bed, a heart monitor beeping nearby, Trish lay unconscious. Doctors monitored her condition warily, suspicious as to what caused the explosion and why world famous archeologist/explorer Lara Croft and her butler Winston were hanging around. Neither of them was related to Miss Saes, so why should they care?

Lara spoke with one of the doctors while Winston stood guard at Trish's room door- whoever was behind the trouble that had landed them there could come back, but with Winston on guard, they wouldn't get far.

Lara went over to Winston with a sigh after finishing her conversation with the doctor. "She says that Miss Saes is fine- save for the usual injuries after something like that. What I really want to know is who would go after Mrs. Beaumontle, and later Trish? Plus, why?" Lara asked, crossing her arms as she looked into Trish's hospital room.

"I don't know, Lady Croft. I don't know." Winston said with a sad shake of his head, both of them turning away from the window.

"And still the greater question is, why did Trish have that little episode in the ambulance?" Lara asked Winston rhetorically, mulling over Trish's words.

Finally, she shook her head. "None of this is making any sense, Winston. This whole... Event is just as confusing as you are when you are half asleep."

Winston shrugged. "Chinese noodle spies are like that." He said cryptically.

Lara eyed him. "Right..." She said.

The moment Lara and Winston had stopped looking in Trish's direction, the air in Trish's hospital room changed, growing more... Supernatural...

With a spasm, Trish awoke, her eyes wide as she gasped.

Her eyes, too, flickered in the light.

Dean was craving a cigarette as he pulled the Impala into a parking spot behind the Glitzy Proto Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada.

The bright lights of Vegas were normally entrancing and alluring to him, but at the moment they were draining.

Dragging a hand over his face, he groaned and rested his head against the headrest. With growing suspicions, he had called Cole's lawyer and was not surprised to discover that Cole had gone back to Vegas in order to clear his name.

The fact he wasn't being held in Nevada awaiting trial caught Dean off guard, but it also added to his and Kurtis' suspicions about Cole's family and their ties to… Something more powerful.

Dean had, the moment he learned about Cole's plans, packed up and went after him.

Too bad Kurtis is out of country.

A bad taste was settling in his mouth. The whole case was leaving him with hives and suspicious that Kurtis was keeping something from him.

Something was wrong with the Saes. And it was more than just, "Oh, they are kleptomaniacs," or, "Yeah, they celebrate Christmas in June".

No, it was something closer to, "They're actually turtle people and live in a glass bubble".

He wouldn't be surprised with something like that. Well, not quite that, but something just as weird.

The Saes weren't exactly the postcard-perfect family they pretended they were. Lying through their teeth was their specialty- something that hadn't changed in the 90 years Saes had been on the hunting map.

Lord knows how long they had been actually hunting. That number was probably lost to time.

Dean shook his head and climbed out of the Impala, groaning as he stretched. Several pops emitted from his joints before he rolled his shoulders and shut his door.

"Okay. I just have to find Cole in a sea of people and pray that that's all I have to do. Nothing scary about that." Dean muttered sarcastically as he reached into the backseat and removed his duffel bag.

If I had known that this case would involve more people and less supernatural, I would've said "No". Dean thought wearily. This case better be snooze-through easy, or I'm gonna be… Annoyed.

Too bad Dean hadn't wished for that with a genie.

Kurtis strode through the same London terminal Trish had been standing in hours before, an unlit cigarette clamped firmly between his lips while, slung over his shoulder, his heavy backpack hung.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Kurtis actually had the easy job.

While Dean had to track Cole through the continental United States, Kurtis only had to track Trish down at their great aunt's estate and speak with her.

The only problem in Kurtis's job was the part that involved her talking to him, since he knew she'd be able to identify him as a hunter before he had said one word.

Ah well. It's a small price to pay when you're saving the world quietly. Kurtis thought lazily as he walked, calmly, to the entrance of the terminal.

It wasn't until it was too late, though, that he noticed that the air around him was growing thick with supernatural pressure.

Out of nowhere, two figures in black robes appeared, their eyes an odd shade of silver. "Mr. Kurtis Trent," the smaller one, an American woman, said. "We have been anticipating your arrival for some time now."

The man nodded, and Kurtis couldn't help but grimace at their disturbing grins. "Yes, a very long time. A lifetime, in fact."

Kurtis cocked his head, his eyebrows rising.

"Well, Dean, I guess you did get the easier job." He said, looking down at the floor with a coy grin.

The two creatures looked at each other, trying to understand Kurtis's message.

Finally, they looked at him again.

"What?" The man asked him as Kurtis shifted his weight to one foot.

"Nothin'." He said smugly before throwing a punch.

Kurtis really knew how to make his presence known. Good or bad.

Believe it or not, this chapter is actually longer than it was the last time I published it. Like, possibly twice as long. I think it actually got better. :)

Review if you want to. Flamers will be ignored/will be visited by a proto armed with wrapping paper and bubble gum. Don't ask.