Author's Note: After some debate between Cancer Chris, BlackRain88, and a few of the voices in my head, I've decided to change the Supernatural plot line. Don't get me wrong, it's an awesome plot – especially season five, ooh, I love it – but I don't really have the desire to rehash it. And from where I've started, I'd have to write three seasons worth of plot. No thank you. I'm going to be taking all of the stuff that's happened so far in the Supernatural plot and then putting my own explanation to them.

Oh! I've also decided when this takes place in season two. Kind of late, I know, but hey, I didn't even have a fully developed plot back in chapter one. It's going to happen right after Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things. Now, I know this makes a couple of continuity issues, so I'll address them here. First off, Sam's broken hand. In Dead Things, Sam says he thinks zombie-bitch broke his hand. Since they didn't get it checked out in this episode, I'm going to say that his hand wasn't broken, just tweaked, thus no mention of it in my fic.

Secondly, the weather. I made it fall/winter for my fic but I'm guessing it's more spring/summer in Dead Things. I'm going with a time jump, to also explain why they're in the Nevada desert when this starts.

Like I said before, I'm taking everything so far and putting my own twist on it. That means any characters or plot points that show up after Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things will probably not make it into this fic.

Apologies for the long A/N.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Charmed.

Chapter Five

"Look, whether you like it or not, they are our family!"

"That's not the point, Sam!"

"Dean!" Sam took a breath and calmed his voice. "It's hard to deal with, especially after all that we've been through –"

Sam couldn't finish the sentence as a fire ball hit him and exploded. The impact knocked him on his back; he couldn't figure out if he was more stunned by the physical attack or that his brother did such a thing or that his brother was capable of such a thing. Before that, all Dean could muster up was fire no more intense than a cigarette lighter.

Dean rushed to his brother's side and kneeled down. "Sam? Sammy!"

Sam blinked and regained his senses, only to realize that the pain was really there. He cringed but didn't yell at Dean. One look at Dean's horror stricken face was enough for Sam to realize that it was an accident. That and Sam was finding it a little hard to take a full breath.

"Sammy, are you all right?!" Dean asked as he cut the shirt off of his brother to get a good look at the burn. Sam's upper chest was completely blistered, red and shiny like it had been wetted. This meant it was only a second degree burn. Not as bad as a third degree, but still very bad, considering the size of it. "Oh, crap, Sammy, I didn't mean it!"

Sam took a shaky breath. "Call . . . Paige . . ."

Dean took out his cell phone and got Paige on the second ring.

"Hey, Dean, is everything all right?"

"No, Sam's hurt."

"What?! How!?"

Dean hesitated, not really wanting to tell her, but Sam was sweating and his eyes started to roll back. His hand blindly grasped for Dean's as his already shaky breath got shorter. Now was not the time for pride. He grabbed Sam's hand and held it tight. "I accidently burned him. Just get over here and heal him! He's going into shock!"

Paige didn't even hang up, just materialized out of a column of blue orbs that appeared out of thin air. She dropped her cell phone and kneeled by Sam. Placing her hands over his chest, but not touching him, a familiar golden light came forth and healed him.

Sam gasped at the sudden ability to breathe without pain. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, with Dean putting a hand on his back. It was completely unneeded but Dean couldn't help himself.

"You okay, Sam?" Paige asked.

Sam nodded. Only his shirt was in bad condition now.

Paige looked at Dean. "That's the most powerful fire you've made so far. What happened?"

"I was teasing him," Sam lied smoothly.

"Teasing?" Paige raised an eyebrow.

"Never make fun of a man's ride," Dean answered, thankful that his brother didn't go all girly on him and pull Paige into their argument.

Paige was clearly not satisfied with this answer, but Sam distracted her by getting up and offering her some water and making idle chit-chat. Paige left soon and Sam decided now would be a good time to get some fresh air.

"Sam," Dean said as his little brother changed his shirt.

"Don't worry, Dean. It was an accident," Sam smiled at him, sincerely meaning it. The argument had been coming for a week, ever since the DNA results came back and the issue wasn't resolved. Usually, Sam would be doing his best to get Dean to open up and talk about it but, honestly, Sam wasn't ready to have second degree burns again. "I'm going to get us some dinner. We haven't had Chinese since we got here."

Sam left before Dean could really think of a good thing to say. In the charred, scorched, smelly motel room, the older Winchester stood and looked at his "progress." All he'd done so far was burn everything. They had to hide their clothes under the beds and Sam wouldn't bring his laptop into the room.

This whole thing sucked! Sure, their lives weren't normal and happy in the first place, but at least he could understand what was happening! Or figure it out. This stupid power that's supposedly connected to his feelings, like a bad young adult novel, just didn't make sense. Did they really expect him to believe that all he had to do was think happy thoughts and he'd be like the Human Torch?

The image of Sam lying on the floor, shuddering in pain, suddenly flashed through his mind and guilt and realization came to him at once. He had been pissed off – not just at Sam but at everything. Right before the fire hit Sam, Dean had been thinking that if his brother was closer, he would've slugged him.

Dean slumped onto his bed as it sank in. He never once thought about setting Sam on fire. That fight didn't even warrant serious injury. Maybe a swollen lip, at most. But Dean really didn't have control over his power – it was amazing that he hadn't torched the whole building yet.

Sighing dramatically, Dean flopped backwards. He knew what he had to do but he didn't like it.

Tuesday was a better day than its predecessor – at least for Sam. Sam didn't get burned, for starters. Dean appeared to finally be making progress after a week of blackening the room (an improvement over the original design, really). He was actually burning the piece of paper Piper held up, not the ones in the pile next to her, and taking her advice on when to calm his breathing.

When Dean exercised control and burned things on purpose, his flames were still pretty weak, but as the days marched on into another week, they steadily increased in power. It got to the point to where Dean felt confident enough to move into a slightly better hotel that was closer to the Halliwells. They had only stayed in where they had for so long because Dean was able to burn everything and no one bothered them. The only regret Dean had about leaving that room was that he wouldn't be able to see the look on the maid's face when she came to clean.

whwhwhwhwhwhw

"Sam, hey!" Phoebe smiled and waved him into her office. Sam had been standing out there, hesitantly talking to her latest office temp. The temp looked put-out when Sam gave a sigh of relief and went into the office as quickly as he could.

"Hey, Phoebe, thanks for meeting me," Sam said as he closed the door.

The advice columnist made a face. "I sound like your therapist or broker when you say that."

Sam sheepishly smiled and said, "Sorry."

Phoebe shrugged it off. "Have a seat. I'm just finishing up some things here."

Sam sat on the couch and waited patiently for his sister to be finished. He almost smiled as the word "sister" rang in his head. In the first few days since Dean and Sam had confirmed their heritage, Sam was in just as much shock as Dean was. True, they had known about the possibility of it all but it's like knowing you could get into law school or have cancer (depending on whose perspective it is). You can prepare all you want but it isn't until you hear the worlds confirming your fate that it really hits home.

For this reason and many others, Sam didn't jump up and down for joy and run off to get his name changed to Halliwell. It took him a good seventy-two hours to finally decide that he wanted to know his sisters as more than just magical coaches. But Dean was clearly not coping with the fact that he wasn't John and Mary's boy. He seemed to have a revelation after their latest fight and now worked with less resistance towards the sisters. However, Sam was sure Dean wasn't over anything.

"All right, let's go!" Phoebe snapped Sam out of his thoughts.

She drove them to one of her favorite hole-in-the-wall cafés, sticking out on the corner of one of the older, smaller streets of the city. For all of the charm and character these old streets had, they had equal opposite amount of parking spaces. She didn't even try looking for a spot on the street with the café and went straight for a parking lot two streets over. Parking here cost almost as much as her lunch was going to, but Phoebe wasn't going to let a little thing like money stand in the way of her day with Sam. This was the first time he had asked for a hang-out lunch like this. No couching, no lessons – nothing but a nice lunch and chat. She had a feeling that magic was going to come up (it was the major thing they had in common at the moment), but maybe Sam might actually open up more and tell her some of his life before landing in San Francisco.

But despite both of their hopes for a normal sibling outing, neither of them really knew how to start the conversation. As they walked to the café, they tried small talk and found each topic – weather, the nice conditions of the streets, the menu of the café – ended almost as soon as they began. For all the time the two spent together working on magic, neither one had really had a conversation with the other.

Phoebe was opening her mouth to try another vein of conversation when Sam winced hard. Confused, she didn't say anything at first. Then Sam stopped walking and in haled sharply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sam, are you all right?"

"Yeah…I'm–" his reassurances were cut short by a sigh of pain. Sam felt his knees buckle on him and braced himself against the wall as he slid down to concrete.

Phoebe held onto Sam but found she didn't have the upper strength to keep the taller one on his feet and sank down with him. Sam was staring straight ahead, rigid and breathing hard, and while Phoebe was worried for him, she was sadly reminded that this wasn't the most pain he had seen him in.

After an impossibly long minute, Sam relaxed and took deep breaths. He closed his eyes and rubbed them but the pain was leaving.

"What happened? Are you all right?" she echoed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just had . . . a vision."

"A vision?" Phoebe's eyebrows shot straight up. "Your visions hurt like that all the time?"

Sam gave a shaky smile, attempting to look up at Phoebe. Instead, he looked past her and gasped. "That's her!"

"Who?"

"The woman from my vision!"

Phoebe looked over her shoulder and saw a light-brown hair woman in a business suit walking down the other side of the street, talking on her cell phone, digging in her purse, and paying the rest of the world no heed.

Sam tried to get up but the pain lingered and didn't let him rise. "Stop her, Phoebe. We have to warn her."

"Of what?"

The woman was turning the corner and was soon out of sight.

"Just stop her!" Sam pushed Phoebe up. "I'll be there in a minute!"

Phoebe didn't want to leave Sam but as one psychic to another, she understood that sometimes you couldn't explain things. Phoebe dashed across the street and rounded the corner. The woman had gotten into her car already and was driving off.

"Wait! Wait, Ma'am!" Phoebe called and waved her hands. The woman didn't even glance in her mirrors as she slipped out of the parallel parking spot and zipped away.

Sam was by her side before she could even turn around.

"You didn't stop her?!"

"I didn't have a chance," Phoebe saw the panic in his eyes. "Sam, what was your vision about?"

"That woman – she's going to die when she gets home. I saw her running down the hallway, a baby in her hands, she reached the end, turned around and screamed for whatever was chasing her to leave them alone."

"Were the lights on?"

"What?" Sam creased his brow.

"The lights in the house. Did you notice if they were on or not?"

Sam thought for a moment. "They were on . . ."

"Then this attack will probably happen at night and it clearly hasn't happen yet because she looks fine."

"We don't know who she is or where she lives. I didn't see out any windows and I didn't recognize her house!"

"Four-three-eight, M," Phoebe said. When Sam looked at her confused, she went on, "The license plate had the numbers four, three and eight. There was an M in there as well. I'll call up Paige's husband and he can track the license number."

Sam looked uncomfortable at the idea. "What does Paige's husband do?"

Phoebe was already pulling out her cell and pressing in the speed dial. "Parole officer. Don't worry, he's accepted magic." She missed the twitch that jerked the corner of Sam's mouth as she turned away for a second to make the call. She gave the information and then emphasized something that Sam found a little odd, but couldn't quite put his finger on.

Spinning back around, Phoebe pocketed her phone. "Henry's looking up the plate number now and then Paige's going to go check it out."

"Paige? Why not –?"

"Because Paige is already there and she's got a free afternoon," Phoebe smiled as if say it was no big deal.

"Paige is at the – where her husband works?"

"Yeah," Phoebe's eyes shifted and her smile got wider. "She likes to have lunch with him."

You're not a very good liar, Phoebe, Sam thought. But Phoebe was already taking his arm and steering him back to her car, asking how he felt.

Just as Sam uttered that he was fine, a car went by on the street, catching the light and flashing in his eyes. This caused Sam to wince and wonder if the world enjoyed torturing him. Phoebe held onto his arm until he was seated in the car and on the drive back to hotel, she kept glancing over at Sam.

A block away from the much nicer hotel than their previous one, Phoebe pulled into an underground parking structure, went to the far end where no one had parked, and found a spot in between the lamps. It was muted light, muted noise, muted colors, and the most beautiful thing for Sam's headache.

"What're we doing here?"

"Having lunch," Phoebe chirped, taking off her seat belt and shifting in her seat to better face him. "Well, lunch without the lunch. I was thinking about going through a drive through, but you don't look like you can stomach much of anything at the moment."

Sam gave her a smile. "I don't look that bad, do I?"

"Eh, I've seen worse. So, your visions, do they always hurt like that?"

"No…This is the first time I've gotten them while I'm awake."

"Right, they usually come as dreams."

"I don't get it. Why now?"

"Your powers are advancing, I think," Phoebe smiled reassuringly. When Sam stared at her, she continued, "Don't act so surprised, it happens in this family! Especially when you use them a lot. Piper, for instance, couldn't blow things up right away. She could only freeze time at first and then it was suddenly like, 'Whoa! Put down the hands and back away!'"

"Have your powers advanced?"

"Well, not my premonitions, really. But I started right away having them as visions, when I was awake. However, over the years, I've also gotten levitation and have become an empath."

Sam nodded a little. "Your visions never hurt you, huh?"

"They hurt a little, at first. Made me dizzy," Phoebe wracked her brain for more examples of pain. "Oh! One time I was psychically linked with a ghost who got shot and I took on his wounds. Nearly died from it."

Sam huffed a little, looking at her excited smile. "You say that like it's a good thing?"

His sister looked at him for a moment. "Well, no. I mean, okay, the gunshot wound in the gut isn't my favorite memory, but I was able to help someone who couldn't get help any other way . . . And, I thought we were bonding."

"The gunshot victim and you?"

"No. You and me."

Sam crinkled his brow. "Bonding? Over pain?"

"Over our shared powers," Phoebe looked down and played a little with her nails. "We just . . . we haven't had much chance to talk, brother to sister."

Sam's foggy state cleared up in that instance. It was true. For all the time they've known each other, their relationship was taken from weird stranger to estranged family to magical coach. Things had simply moved too fast from ghost to Dean's fire powers and they hadn't had a chance to calm down. But now that Dean was getting better at controlling his powers, Sam felt comfortable enough leaving him alone for an hour or two without worrying.

And then Sam had a small revelation. He had been the one asking for the lunch, the one who was trying to reach out, and now he was putting all of the work on Phoebe.

Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Phoebe looked back up and was surprised to see Sam trying to conceal amazement and desperation on his face.

"How do you do this? Dealing with the supernatural world, with life, husbands, friends, jobs – how do you maintain a normal life and still fight demons?"

"We do our best. I mean, it wasn't always like this. We've had to sacrifice a lot for the Greater Good, and to keep our powers a secret. It does get better, Sam. Trust me. You will be able to find the girl of your dreams, get your dream job. You'll be able to do all of that. It might not come in the form you originally thought it would, but it will come."

Sam almost told Phoebe about Jessica right then and there. But then that'd mean talking about the demon and more about his past than he wanted to. His sisters might accept that he's magical – for obvious reasons – but he was unsure that they'd be okay with the rest of it. And, family or not, Jessica wasn't the easiest subject for him to talk about.

So they sat there for the rest of the hour, talking about anything that came to mind. Phoebe found Sam still to be guarded, but he listened to everything she said and at the end, she felt like they had shared more than they had since they found each other.

At the end of the hour, Phoebe drove Sam the last block to the hotel and promised that she'd call him the moment they knew something if he promised to go in his room and get some sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep for him wasn't an option. The moment Sam stepped into the hotel room, the moment Dean saw Sam, he knew something was up.

"What's got your bra all bunched up?"

"Ha-ha, I'm a girl, classy Dean."

"Oooh, do I detect a hint of bunched up panties as well?"

Sam ignored Dean's smirk and sank onto his bed. Dean was at the table, cleaning his guns which hadn't gotten dirty or used since the last time he cleaned them, but one could only watch day time television for so long before wanting to kill something. He was starting to go stir crazy –

A small, sharp intake of breath from Sam snapped Dean out of his brooding.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dean," Sam's voice sounded irritated and most would pass that off as Sam being annoyed at Dean's hyper vigilance. But Dean knew Sam as well as Sam knew Dean and that made lying a little bit tricky between the two.

Dean went over to Sam and kneeled down to get a look at Sam's face. There was a tinge of pain on it but it was passing even as he noticed it.

"Sammy, what happened?"

Sam sighed. "I had a vision."

"A vision? What, did you see the Virgin Mary in your salad?"

Sam rolled his eyes and relayed everything that had happened. "Phoebe thinks my powers are expanding."

Dean, for his credit, didn't interrupt Sam, though he did stand up. "So you had a vision and you didn't think about telling me?"

"I just told you."

"Yeah, an hour after the fact!"

Sam looked up, surprised to see Dean this angry. With a huff he spread his hands. "I don't see the problem."

"Sam, if something like this happens, you tell me right away! What if something had happened?"

"You're worried? You could blow up the whole building and you're worried about a vision?"

Dean couldn't think of a response, so he turned around and stormed over to his guns, but didn't go back to cleaning them, just stood next to them.

"Look, Phoebe said once Paige found where she lives, she'd call us. I'm sure Henry's already got a list of potential people."

"Yeah, there's another thing I don't like. One of our sisters being ma – why're you looking at me like that?"

Sam, surprised, had sat up straighter and raised his eyebrows. "You just said 'one of our sisters.' You've never called them that before."

"Sure I have."

"Not seriously."

Dean looked around for a moment. "Yeah, well, I still don't like one of them being married to a cop."

"Parole officer."

"A cop. In case you've forgotten, we're not exactly in their good graces right now."

"Paige said he's accepted the magical side of life. I'm sure if we explain –"

Dean smirked and gave his own huff. "Yeah, that'll go over well. 'No, officer, we don't actually kill anyone. We just salt and burn their corpses.'"

Sam shook his head, not really wanting to have this argument at the moment. His headache was still there, a steady throb that was slowly dying. Slipping more on to the bed, Sam sighed, "Whatever, Man."

As Sam lied down, Dean sat back down at his gun and went back to cleaning them, pretending he wasn't glancing over at Sam every few seconds. An hour pass and Sam managed to flip over in his sleep, his feet dangling off of the bed, and was just starting to snore when his phone rang.

He fumbled in his pocket and didn't lift his head off of the bed as he sleepily greeted, "Hello?"

"Sam, it's Paige. I think I found the woman."

End: Chapter Five