The moon shined bright while Calypso walked around outside the motel one night. She had a lot on her mind and needed time to think while she didn't have to pretend she was okay for the sake of the Winchesters.

She wondered how everyone in her old town was doing. She wondered if they knew she was gone. If they did, it was just because they were missing their favorite chew toy.

Calypso had never fit in there. She had always felt like she was different from everyone else. She could do things they couldn't, but didn't tell anyone. She didn't need another reason to be called a freak.

Calypso looked up at the moon and closed her eyes, letting the peace of the moment absorb her.

Then the door opened.

"Callie, you out here?" Sam called into the darkness, the light from the door escaping the room. "Callie?" He searched to his left, where Calypso was unwilling to look away from the moon. "There you are," he said, sounding relieved. "Wait, are you crying?"

Calypso tore her eyes off of the sky, confused, and ran her index finger under her eye, feeling damp skin from multiple tears being shed. Her eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

"Huh, I guess I am," she said matter-of-factly. She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "What's going on?"

"We have to go," Sam told her. "It's a long story, but we're leaving, right now."

Calypso shrugged.

"Okay," she agreed, heading back into the motel room. "I'll pack up my stuff."

She definitely needed an explanation for this one.

It didn't take long to pack everything into the impala and drive off, Dean taking the wheel.

Sam hurriedly explained his dream of a man who was killed by being locked in his car in the garage, with the vehicle on and the gas filling the room. Calypso listened carefully, taking in every detail. Sam didn't give her or Dean any time to talk before he called a data center for the man's name and location based on the license plate that Sam saw. Dean wasn't sure there would be a match, but Calypso knew anything was possible.

"Sammy relax," Dean told him. "I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam said sarcastically, waiting for an answer on the other side of the line.

"I mean it," Dean said. "Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare." Calypso wished she had those kinds of nightmares instead of her real ones, on the few occasions when she fell asleep. "This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"It felt different, Dean," Sam insisted. "Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You're dreaming about our house, your girlfriend," Dean pointed out. "This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?"

"No," Sam admitted.

"No. Exactly," Dean agreed. "Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"

"Maybe you do know him, you just don't remember," Calypso thought out loud. "Or you could be connected somehow. I didn't know you two when I began dreaming of your little adventures."

"Yeah, but you weren't dreaming, you were sending your soul out of your body," Dean pointed out. She shrugged.

"I still don't know why I visited you two, though," Calypso told him.

It was quiet for a moment before Sam got a reply on his phone.

"Yes, I'm here," he told the person at the other end of the line. He listened, then turned to look at Dean in the classic, 'I was right,' way, picking up a pen. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks." He hung up. "Checks out. How far are we?"

"From Saginaw?" Dean asked rhetorically. "Couple o' hours."

"Drive faster," Sam said seriously. They sped up and were silent for a moment. "And, Callie, why were you outside at midnight? You should've been asleep."

She shrugged again, but it wasn't a natural movement. She seemed stiffer than usual.

"Just wasn't tired," she claimed. "Needed time to think."

"Uh huh," Sam said, disbelievingly. "Come to think of it, I've almost never seen you asleep. Care to tell me why?"

Calypso looked out the window, jaw set, avoiding Sam and Dean's eyes.

"I don't sleep much," she said, bending the truth slightly.

"You know, I woke up a couple nights ago at three in the morning to see you walking around the room," Dean contributed.

"What, a girl isn't allowed to get a midnight snack?"

"You weren't stopping," Dean said. "You walked in circles for half an hour. Probably the whole night."

"Your point being?" Calypso asked. She hated it when people beat around the bush.

"Well, do you ever sleep?" Dean asked, doing his best to speak carefully.

"Sometimes," she told him and Sam. She accidentally made eye contact with Sam in the rearview mirror, and the pure concern in his eyes made her sigh in exasperation. She couldn't compete with the puppy dog eyes. "It's usually because of an accident or boredom. Otherwise, I try to keep myself awake each night."

"That's not healthy," Sam warned her. "Lack of sleep can kill you."

"Not me," Calypso pointed out softly. There was a moment of silence.

"What's so bad about sleep?" Dean asked.

"Sleep itself isn't that bad," Calypso admitted. "Actually, sleep is great. But what's the point if you just have nightmares the entire night that constantly wake you up?"

"You've gotta have a couple of good dreams," Dean said. "Balance or something."

She shook her head slowly.

"No," she told him. "It's like there's something wrong with me. I've never had a good dream, or even a good feeling as I wake up. I dream what I constantly remember. Flashbacks, and that's it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"I'm not going into detail on these dreams, if that's what you want to know," she said. "I told you the basic stuff. That's all you need to know right now."

Hopefully that's all they'd need to know, ever.

The Impala cruised to a stop outside a normal looking house; that is, it would look normal of there wasn't a cluster of emergency vehicles and a crowd around it. Calypso looked out the window, taking in every detail. The person on the stretcher being zipped into a body bag, the bright lights of the ambulance, and the three people on the porch, looking distraught. Of course, they could just be acting. She couldn't tell from so far away. Calypso looked up at the front seat, seeing Sam and Dean look at each other, Dean concerned and Sam upset. It looked like Sam's vision came true.

The group climbed out of the impala and approached the crowd watching the scene. Sam stayed behind for a moment.

"What happened?" Dean asked a spectating woman.

"Suicide," she told him, not taking her eyes off the house. "Can't believe it."

"Did you know him?" Calypso asked while Sam came up behind them to stand on the woman's other side.

"Saw him every Sunday at St Augustines. He always seems-" she paused, catching herself. "Seemed, so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

"Yeah, you can never tell," Calypso said quietly, looking at the ground.

"How did... Ah. How are they saying it happened?" Sam asked. He already knew the answer, but still wanted confirmation.

"I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running," the woman told them.

"Do you know about what time they found him?" Sam asked, needing every detail.

"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago," she explained. "His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

"It's hard to accept," Calypso agreed, watching the blonde woman on the front step crying and leaning against a middle aged man. A pale boy stood behind them, looking expressionless. She stared at him, perplexed. He didn't look very upset. It took her a moment before she realized the Winchesters were back at the impala. She quickly made her way back to them.

"... Not fast enough," Sam was saying. "It doesn't make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

"I dunno," Dean told him. Sam shook his head and sighed.

"What do you think killed him?" Calypso asked. "Ghost, maybe? Demon?"

"Maybe the guy just killed himself," Dean suggested. "Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."

Sam shook his head. Calypso was doubting it was a normal suicide, too. Something didn't seem right, other than the fact that Sam dreamed it would happen.

"I'm telling you, I watched it happen," Sam persisted. "He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."

"So... Ghost?" Calypso asked again. "Poltergeist? Maybe a demon?"

"I don't know what it was," Sam said, getting worked up. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening!"

Calypso and Dean stared at Sam for a moment. They were both surprised that Sam would become so frustrated. He wasn't usually like that.

"What?" Sam asked defensively.

"Nothing," Dean said with a shrug while Calypso simply looked away. "I'm just, I'm worried about you man."

"Well, don't look at me like that!" Sam protested. Calypso smiled slightly. She hated being looked at like she was different just as much as Sam did, but was never confident enough to say so. She just dealt with it.

"I'm not looking at you like anything," Dean claimed, looking away. He glanced back. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."

"Nice. Thanks," Sam said sarcastically while Calypso shot Dean a look. He needed to be more sensitive.

"Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning," Dean said, moving to open the car door. "We'll check out the house, talk to the family."

"Dean, you saw them, they're devastated," Sam protested. Calypso agreed, but they needed to hunt the monster that did this. "They're not going to want to talk to us."

Dean thought for a moment.

"Yeah you're right," he agreed. "But I think I know who they will talk to."

"Who?" Sam asked.

At the same time, Calypso sighed.

"Is this gonna be illegal?" she asked.

Dean smirked in reply.

"Priests?" Calypso asked for the fifteenth time as Sam and Dean were playing dress up to visit the Millers. "I mean, really?"

"Hey, it's no worse than pretending to be F.B.I," Dean said, putting the black jacket on. "I don't see why you won't come with us."

"A, I'm way too young to look like a nun," Calypso said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "B, there's a line I'm just not gonna cross."

Dean laughed.

"Never took you as the religious type," he told her. Calypso shrugged as Sam came out of the bathroom, hair slicked back. She laughed.

"Looking sharp, Sam!" she teased, grinning.

"Isn't this what most priests do?" he asked.

"I dunno," Calypso admitted. Dean stared at her strangely and she looked at her swinging feet. "Just because I'm kinda religious doesn't mean I go to church."

"Okay..." Dean said, turning towards the door. "Well, we'll be back in a bit. Try not to blow up the place."

"No promises," Calypso joked. Dean smiled and he and Sam left the motel room.

It turned out it wasn't a ghost that killed Mr. Miller. In fact, they had no clue what it was. There were no traces of a ghost or poltergeist in the house, but the man didn't have a history of depression, either. Still, his son, Max, did find him in his car, killed by the fumes. What else could have done that?

Dean was cleaning his weapons as Calypso came out of the bathroom, her hair falling around her shoulders in a damp curtain from the shower she just took. Dean looked up at her.

"Think of any theories while you were in there?" he asked. She shook her head, hands in her pockets.

"If there were no signs of a ghost or poltergeist..." Calypso trailed off with a sigh. "I just don't know what else it could be."

Dean shrugged.

"A suicide," he suggested. Calypso shook her head.

"Wish I believed that," she said, sitting down on the bed next to him.

"Me, too," Dean admitted. Calypso smiled as Sam entered the room.

"Got anything?" Calypso asked.

"A whole lotta nothing," Sam admitted. "Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built."

"What about the land?" Dean asked. Sam sank onto his bed.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property," he reported.

"Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down," Dean said. "No cold spots, sulfur scent. Nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?" Sam confirmed.

"Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something?" Dean asked. "I used the infrared thermal scanner man, and there was nothing."

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?" Sam asked.

"I dunno," Dean admitted. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."

"Maybe it doesn't have anything to with the house," Calypso suggested.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, rubbing his temples as if he had a horrible headache. "Well," he took a deep breath, holding his head. Calypso stared, concerned. "Maybe it's just... Gosh..." he said, keeping his hand on his forehead. "Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"Sam, you okay?" Calypso asked slowly and deliberately. She wasn't sure what was going on, and was scared for her brother. Sam suddenly cried out in pain and sunk from the bed to crouch on the ground. Calypso jumped up and rushed over to him. Dean was right behind her.

"Ah," Sam complained as Calypso crouched down next to him. "My head."

"Sam?" Calypso asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," Dean said to his little brother. He bent down and grabbed Sam's arms. "Hey! What's going on? Talk to me."

Sam didn't respond for a moment, then suddenly seemed to snap back to where he was.

"It's happening again," he gasped. "Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

They were speeding along to Roger Miller's apartment when Calypso finally gained enough sense to ask if Sam was okay.

"Yeah," Sam said, clearly lying.

"I don't believe you," she persisted.

"I'm fine," he told her. She shrugged, turning to look back out the window.

"Alright," she said so quietly she could barely hear herself. "Touchy." She then frowned, realizing who in the car was like that most often.

"Just drive," Sam told Dean. They looked at each other until Sam sighed heavily and looked away.

"I'm scared, guys," Sam admitted. Calypso nodded sympathetically, getting where he was coming from. "These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."

"Come on man, you'll be all right," Dean told him confidently. "It'll be fine."

"What is it about the Millers?" Sam asked, on the verge of panicking. "Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?"

"I don't know, Sam but we'll figure it out," Dean said encouragingly. "We've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing."

"No," Sam disagreed. "It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this, except Callie, and let's be honest, she's the exception to a lot." The corner of Calypso's mouth twitched up slightly. Sam had a point there. "Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out."

Dean stared straight ahead for a long moment.

"This doesn't freak me out," he said finally. Calypso pursed her lips. Dean was clearly lying. It was too easy to see through his thin disguise. His brother knew it, too.

Sam stared at him, then turned away, expressionless.

The impala pulled up as Roger Miller approached the entrance of his apartment, carrying a large bag of groceries.

"Hey Roger!" Sam called out the window as they neared the man.

"What are you guys, missionaries?" Roger asked, annoyed, now rushing towards the entrance. "Leave me alone."

"Please!" Sam called after him desperately. But Roger was getting farther and farther away by the second.

"I told you the priest thing was a bad idea," Calypso muttered as Dean gunned the engine, hurriedly parking. They jumped out of the car to chase Roger, Sam taking the lead.

"Hey. Roger. We're trying to help!" Sam yelled as he tried to catch up to the man. "Please!" He ran up to the entrance just as Roger closed the door. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey."

"I don't want your help," Roger told Sam before walking away.

"We're not priests, you gotta listen to us!" Sam yelled after him as Calypso and Dean came up by the door, as well.

"Oh, yeah, 'cause admitting you lied is totally gonna convince Roger to trust you," Calypso said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Roger, you're in danger!" Dean yelled, ignoring Calypso's well-made point. When Roger didn't answer, he looked around. "Come on. Come on, come on."

The three ran around the corner to a back entrance, but it was securely locked. Calypso was about to volunteer to pick it when Dean easily kicked it open.

"Oh," Calypso said quietly, pausing for a moment in surprise. "That's one way of doing it."

She realized the Winchesters were already moving, and sprinted after them. Naturally, their height was to their advantage as they jumped and climbed to the first level of the fire escape.

"Wait, but-" Calypso complained, not being able to reach high enough to get up on the fire escape. She looked around for another way, but there wasn't one she could get to quickly. "Really?"

Luckily, Dean noticed she was a little stuck and pulled her up onto the first level, then they were sprinting up the stairs, trying desperately to get there in time. When they were just one floor away from Roger's apartment, there was a thunk and a wet squelching noise. Sam froze as Dean and Calypso rushed passed him, grabbing the railing.

Calypso sighed in regret as she saw Roger's head lying in the flower bed under the window, his blood coating the glass.

"We didn't make it," she said with a heavy heart. She wasn't disgusted or terrified, just sad that she couldn't save him. She should've been able to.

Sam joined Dean and Calypso by the body. After a long pause, Dean pulled out a couple handkerchiefs from his pocket and tossed one to Sam, then Calypso.

"Start wiping down your fingerprints, we don't want the cops to know we were here," Dean said, rushed. "Come on, come on!"

"One step ahead of you," Calypso said, holding up her two pale.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, confused. She looked down at her right hand, expressionless.

"My fingerprints were burned off when I was younger," she told him indifferently. "I don't leave any traces behind

"Oh," Sam said, at complete loss of any other words. He exchanged a look with Dean. "Uh, okay."

Dean turned around, a little disturbed, and pushed up the window of Roger's apartment leading to the fire escape.

"I'm gonna take a look inside," he told them. Calypso nodded, then turned to help Sam with wiping down the fingerprints, though she felt him glance at her every few seconds.

Why were they acting strange? Did she say something?

The apartment was completely clean, just like the Miller's house, leaving the three as stumped as they were when the attacks started. Though Sam admitted seeing a dark shape stalking Roger, it didn't narrow the possibilities down very much. The best thing they could think of was if a vengeful spirit latched onto the family itself. But it was just a guess. Nothing was proven yet.

Sam and Dean went back to the house, acting as priests, and came back telling Calypso that Max acted unusually when the topic of his past came up in the conversation. So now they had to check out his old house across town.

They started off by talking to a man that lived across the street from the Miller's old house. Calypso shuddered. The perfect, identical looking houses, the too green lawns... It reminded her too much of her old neighborhood.

Of course, the man on his front lawn that they were talking with wasn't bothered by the uniform look of his street.

"Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, almost 20 years now. It's nice and quiet," the man said. Yeah, that's just what everyone wants you to think about them. "Why, you looking to buy?"

"Uh, no," Calypso said, looking a little pale. "Actually we're wondering if you remember the Millers? They lived right across the street, I think. They had a little boy named Max?"

"Yeah I remember," the man said more seriously. "The brother had the place next door. So uh, what's this about, is that poor kid ok?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Well in my life I've never seen a child treated like that," the man explained. "I mean I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of."

Calypso grew very still, what little color that was left in her face disappearing.

"This was going on regularly?" Sam asked when Calypso didn't respond.

"Practically every day," he stated. "In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy. But the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

"Now, you said step-mother," Dean noticed.

"I think his real mother died," the man said. "Some sorta... accident. Car accident I think."

Calypso took a deep breath as an attempt to calm herself, then looked at the Winchesters. Dean was emotionless, as usual, but Sam was holding his hand to his head and grimacing. Oh no, not again.

"Are you ok there?" the man asked, concerned, as any sane human being would be.

"Uh, yeah," Sam lied, wincing. Calypso and Dean both went forward to help him. Of course, Calypso knew she wouldn't be very much help, being short and weak.

"Thanks for your time," Dean said, holding an arm out towards Sam.

"Yeah, thank you," Sam told the man, lifting both his hands to his head.

They turned to go, Dean supporting Sam while Calypso followed anxiously behind them. As they got to the door of the impala, Sam's vision took hold of his mind. Calypso and Dean exchanged a frightened look.

"Oh, damn it," Calypso said, her voice shaking. Dean glanced over at her, concerned.

"You okay?" he asked. Calypso looked at him as if he was insane.

"Your brother is having a weird vision thing, and you're asking how I'm doing?" she asked.

"You've been acting weird ever since we got out of the car," Dean said defensively.

Calypso briefly made eye contact with him, then quickly looked away, unable to lie to Dean.

Luckily, she didn't have to. At that moment, Sam snapped out of his vision, so Dean and Calypso's attention was transferred.

"God," Sam said, sounding utterly shocked.

Great. Then this couldn't be good.

"Max is doing it," Sam told them in the car, on the way to the boy's house. He had already explained how Max could move things without touching them, and was planning to use his power to kill his stepmother. So, naturally, they had to go stop him. "Everything I've been seeing."

"You sure about this?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I saw him," Sam replied.

"How's he doing it?" Calypso wondered. Honestly, she wasn't surprised that Max would do such a thing. Pain makes people go insane, and she would know. Childhood trauma wasn't something she was a stranger with. But, though the motive was easy to figure out, how Max was doing it was another story.

"I don't know, like telekinesis?" Sam suggested.

"What so he's psychic, a spoon bender?" Dean asked.

"I didn't even realize it but this whole he was there," Sam said, ignoring Dean. "He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died. These visions, this whole time - I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess -because we're so alike?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "The dude's nothing like you."

"Well, we both have psychic abilities, we both-" Sam began. Calypso pursed her lips, concerned. Sam couldn't start thinking like this. It would escalate, and eventually get worse. He could become severely depressed, like her. She wouldn't wish that fate on her worst enemy.

"Both what?" Dean interrupted while Calypso crossed her arms. "Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third."

"Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people?" Sam asked. Calypso frowned, disagreeing. "I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane."

"They're his family," Calypso protested quietly, looking at her hands clasped in her lap. "He can't just kill them... No matter what they've done. They're still his family. No matter how far underneath the surface it is, there's a part of them that loves him, cares about him. He can't just end their life."

It was quiet as what she said sunk in. She and Sam briefly made eye contact through the car mirror, but Calypso looked away instantly. She knew the Winchesters must have thought she was strange at that moment. But she honestly didn't care. They pulled over at Max's house.

"He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right?" Dean told Sam. "We gotta end him."

"We're not going to kill Max," Sam protested.

"Then what?" Dean asked, frustrated and running out of ideas. "Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.'"

"We aren't killing Max," Calypso agreed. "If we do, we'd still be killing a person. But we can reason with him. We can help keep everyone safe."

Dean stayed quiet for a long moment.

"All right fine," Dean finally agreed. "But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."

He took out his pistol from the glove compartment and, glaring at both Sam and Calypso, opened the door.

Showtime.

They burst through the doors as Max was in the kitchen, preparing to kill his stepmother, but not putting his plan in action yet. Awkward...

"Fathers?" Mrs. Miller asked, stunned. Calypso couldn't blame her. They had broken down her front door, after all. She looked at Calypso. "Who is she?"

Calypso froze. She hadn't exactly thought about her fake identity. She didn't think Sam and Dean had, either.

"I'm in training to become a nun!" Calypso exclaimed, the words leaving her lips before she could think about them. "I wanted to do some community service and-"

"What are you doing here?" Max cut her off, talking to Dean. Angry, Calypso crossed her arms, standing up taller. It was rude to interrupt. Had he been raised in a barn? Just because he was abused, it didn't mean he could do anything he wanted. It didn't mean he could get away with being permanently angry and impolite. Somebody out there had it worse than him. Somebody always had it worse.

Well, maybe not worse than her.

"Ah, sorry to interrupt," Dean said awkwardly.

"Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?" Sam asked, acting as if they didn't just break down his door

"About what?" Max asked suspiciously.

"It's... It's private," Sam told him. "I wouldn't want to bother your mother with it." He turned to Mrs. Miller. "We won't be long at all though, I promise."

Max looked at his stepmother, then back to the Winchesters and Calypso.

"Ok," he agreed.

"Great," Sam said.

He, Dean, and Calypso turned to the door while Max followed. As Dean grabbed the doorknob, he turned back to smile at Max. Calypso rolled her eyes, thinking Dean was trying too hard, when her eyes stopped at the mirror Max was looking at. Clearly visible in Dean's waistband was the butt of his pistol. Oh crap.

Calypso yelled in surprise as the doorknob was pulled from Dean's hand and the door slammed shut. Then she looked around, trying to keep calm, as the wooden blinds around the room closed with little snapping noises.

"You're not priests!" Max yelled, backing up. Dean drew his gun, but it flew from his hand and onto the floor, sliding to where Max could pick it up. He pointed it first at Sam and Dean, then Calypso, thinking she was the weakest link. She laughed, and was aware of the looks Sam and Dean shot her, but didn't care.

"Go ahead," she told him. "Try it."

It seemed like Max was about to pull the trigger and Calypso was about to prove her point, when his stepmother interrupted.

"Max, what's happening?" she asked. What did she think was happening? Didn't she see the scene that occurred just a moment ago?

"Shut up," Max ordered, terrified.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Miller asked.

"I said shut up!" Max yelled as he used his power to fling the woman backwards, into the counter. She fell to the ground, unconscious. Calypso tore her wide eyes away from the woman and back to Max. Did they have a plan B?

"Max, calm down," Sam said soothingly.

"Who are you?" Max asked, panicking.

"We just wanna talk," Sam replied steadily.

"Yeah right, that's why you brought this!" Max yelled, indicating the gun.

"He's got a point," Calypso said reasonably.

"That was a mistake all right?" Sam said, sounding convincing. "So was lying about who we were. But no more lying, Max, ok? Just please, just hear me out."

"About what?" he asked.

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened," Sam explained quickly, not beating around the bush.

"What?" Max asked, stunned.

"I'm having visions Max," Sam told him. "About you."

"You're crazy," Max claimed. Calypso smiled slightly, remembering how she reacted when she first found out about Sam's visions. She was just as shocked, though she actually believed Sam when he told her.

"So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" He tapped right underneath his left eye. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max? Look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me," Max said, crying.

"Let me try," Sam said calmly. "We'll just talk, me and you. We'll get Dean and Callie and Alice out of here."

"Um, I'm sorry, what?" Calypso asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Uh-uh. No way," Dean protested at the same time.

Calypso then heard rumbling and looked up, eyebrows raised, as the chandelier began to shake.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max yelled. Calypso didn't think he needed the whole chandelier shaking thing. It was a bit overdramatic.

"And nobody has to, all right?" Sam told him. "They'll just... They'll just go upstairs."

"Sam I'm not leaving you alone with him," Dean protested.

"Yeah, no way," Calypso agreed. "We can help. We're not going upstairs."

"Yes you are," Sam told her and Dean. "Look, Max. You're in charge here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything that you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here man."

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed, disagreeing. Calypso shook her head, unwilling to move.

Max looked back at his stepmother.

"Five minutes," he agreed. The chandelier stopped shaking. "Go."

Dean went to pick up Mrs. Miller, but Calypso stayed where she was.

"Callie, go," Sam told her sternly.

"Or what?" she asked, arms crossed again. "You'll kill me? You do that."

"Callie-"

"I'm not moving, Sam," she told him in all seriousness.

"No, you're moving," Sam told her. "The closest you can be to here is on the stairs."

She looked at Max, who wasn't objecting, then nodded.

"Fine," she agreed. "But if something goes wrong, I'll be the first one here."

She couldn't hear anything from her position on the top of the stairs, so she just sat there, resting her head on her hands. It was uneventful for a while, then there was a thud and muffled yelling. Calypso quickly stood up, taking her knife out of her boot. She could hide weapons much better than Dean could.

Max appeared at the bottom of the staircase a moment later, and Calypso was already halfway down.

"Move out of the way," he told her. Calypso shook her head, sadly.

"I can't do that," she told him. She knew her knife would be pulled out of her hands at that moment, and didn't protest. It was worth a shot, even though she figured it wouldn't work. She looked Max in the eyes. "Why do you want to do this? You can just leave, if you wanted an escape. Why didn't you?"

"I don't want an escape," Max told her, looking like a complete mess. He was sweaty, red faced, and crying. "I want revenge."

"She's your family," Calypso told him. "Your dad and uncle were your family."

"They hated me!"

"That can't be completely true," Calypso said. "There must have been a part of them that loved you."

"There wasn't," he told her. "They hated me. My stepmother still does. I have to do this. The nightmares will stop! If I do this, I won't be afraid."

"Yes you will," Calypso said bluntly. "Those nightmares you have about your dad and uncle? They won't stop. They won't get better. They will haunt you for the rest of your life."

"How would you know?" he asked.

Calypso shut her eyes tightly, wincing. She didn't want to say it. She would do anything not to say it. But she had to.

"Because that's what happened to me," she admitted, making eye contact. "My dad hurt me, too."

"What?" Max asked, visibly shocked.

"I don't like talking about it," she told him.

"Did you kill your dad?" he wondered. She shook her head with a gasp.

"How could I do that?" she asked, horrified. "He's my family. He loves me." She took a deep breath. "I ran away. It was better for both of us. He wouldn't get hurt, and neither would I." Calypso frowned and wiped away a tear. "I just... What if I hurt him by leaving? I could've stayed to help him. Maybe if I had talked to him more he would've been okay. Maybe if I was home more often he would've stopped."

Max stared at her for a moment, obviously disgusted. Though Calypso couldn't tell, he was thinking of how she was wrong. Revenge was the answer. If he didn't have revenge, he would end up like her. He shook his head.

"I have to do this," he told her.

"Max-" Calypso began. But she was cut off by being thrown down the stairs and against the wall at the end of them. When she finally hit the ground, she was already unconscious. Max looked at her pitiful crumpled form. He didn't know what to think of the girl. She was nothing like him, but they shared the same kind of childhood.

"I'm sorry," Max whispered.

Calypso awoke when footsteps passed her face. Sam, she recognized, out of it. He sounded awfully hurried. Calypso sat straight up, a sharp pain in her head, as she realized why.

Max was about to kill his stepmother. Or, worse, Dean.

She quickly stood up and followed Sam up the stairs. Hearing her footsteps, Sam looked back at her.

"Oh, thank God, you're awake," Sam said, out of breath and panicking. "He's gonna kill Dean."

Calypso quickly overtook Sam when she heard the news. She and Sam sprinted down the hall together, when they heard muffled speech in one of the rooms. They crashed through the door to see the gun, floating in air, pointing at Dean.

"Stop!" Calypso screamed. Max looked back at her and Sam. "Please, don't do this," she pleaded. "Put the gun down."

"Why should I?" he asked. "I'm not going to end up scared and blaming myself. I'm not gonna just run away. I'm not that weak."

Calypso looked at him in the eye, reminding herself why she never told anyone her secret before. They would end up treating her like this.

"Please," Sam begged. "Please. Max. Max, we can help you. All right? But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything."

"It never does," Calypso added.

Max was a shaking, sweaty, crying mess. He looked between Calypso and Sam, anguished. Then his face cleared as he relaxed a little.

"You're right," he said.

Calypso knew that kind of voice. She knew what came after that kind of voice.

She knew what would happen next.

"NO!" she screamed, a moment before Max swung the gun towards his forehead and pulled the trigger.

She heard Sam yell as she sunk to her knees, gasping and clenching her fists. No, no, no. She could've prevented this. Why did she let him do this? Why didn't she notice the signs a moment earlier? She should've known better after last time.

Max was dead.

And with him was her secret.

They had to call the police to report Max's death. Though they tried to tell them the truth, most details were omitted.

Sam had already explained how he tried to reason with Max, but after Sam found out that the same thing killed their mothers, Max refused to listen anymore. He had locked Sam in the closet, but Sam escaped after having a vision of Max killing Dean. The rest Calypso knew.

"Max attacked me," Mrs. Miller said, sitting on the couch, still shocked. "He threatened me with a gun."

"And these three?" the cop interviewing her asked, motioning towards Sam, Dean, and Calypso. Calypso looked at the wall. She hadn't talked too much since Max had killed himself, but spoke enough so that nobody would think she was acting strange. The truth was, she couldn't have been worse.

"They're... family friends," Mrs. Miller lied. "I called them soon as Max arrived, I was scared. They tried to stop him. They fought for the gun."

"Where did Max get the gun?" the police officer asked. Sam and Dean exchanged nervous looks behind Calypso. This was the part they were uneasy about. This was the part that could get them in trouble.

"I don't know," the woman insisted, looking at the ceiling and beginning to cry. "He showed up with it and..."

That was when Mrs. Miller broke down. Calypso looked away, her eyes beginning to water in sympathy with the woman. She knew what it felt like to have this happen. It was awful.

"It's all right Mrs. Miller," the cop tried to comfort her.

That was such a dumb statement. No, it wasn't all right. Nothing was ever all right.

"I've lost everyone," Mrs. Miller sobbed.

The cop walked over to Sam, Dean, and Calypso.

"We'll give you a call if we have any further questions," he told them.

"Thank you, officer," Calypso said politely.

"Come on," Dean told Sam, patting his arm.

They left the Millers' house gratefully. Calypso couldn't stay in there much longer. The stench of death was too overpowering.

"If I'd just said something else," Sam said regretfully. "Gotten through to him somehow."

"He was too far gone," Calypso told him, trying to sound neutral. "There's a line a person crosses to want to kill themselves. Once they've crossed it, it's hard to go back." She kicked the ground bitterly. "I sure know that."

"When I think about how he looked at me, right before," Sam said after a pause. "I shoulda done something."

"The worst is when, looking back, you can see little patterns and actions leading up to it that you couldn't see before," Calypso thought out loud. "Then you think, 'If I had just connected the dots sooner, they'd be here right now."

"That sounds like you've been there before," Sam noticed. Calypso pursed her lips and looked away. Sam's eyes widened. "You have been there before."

"It was recent," she admitted quietly, stopping. "And I..." She swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat, then shook her head. She couldn't do it. "And I can't talk about it. But I couldn't stop it, and we knew each other well. You had no chance with Max."

"Still," Sam said with a shrug. But his eyes didn't leave Calypso. Was she cursed, or something? They continued moving to the car. "I could've done something."

"Come on man, you risked your life. I mean yeah, maybe if we had gotten there 20 years earlier," Dean protested. They moved to their doors of the impala.

"Well I'll tell you one thing," Sam said. "We're lucky we had Dad."

Yeah, they sure were.

"Well I never thought I'd hear you say that," Dean admitted, looking astounded, yet pleased.

"Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom," Sam explained. "A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out ok. Thanks to him."

Yeah. Calypso thought with a proud little smile, looking from one brother to the other. You two turned out okay.

As soon as the three got back to their motel room, they began packing. They weren't staying a moment longer than they needed to.

"Guys, I've been thinking," Sam said as he reentered the room from putting a bag in the trunk.

"Well that's never a good thing," Dean joked. Calypso shot him a scolding look, then turned back to Sam.

"What have you been thinking about?" she asked.

"I've been thinking, this demon, whatever it is, why would it kill Mom, and Jessica, and Max's mother, you know?" Sam asked. "What does it want?"

"I have no idea," Dean said.

Well, Dean might not have known, but Calypso had already formed a theory. Perhaps the mothers weren't the targets. But then, why were they killed anyway?

"Well, you think, maybe, it was after us?" Sam wondered. "After Max and me?"

That was exactly what she thought.

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked.

"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know?" Sam pointed out. "Maybe he was, he was after us for some reason."

But they were babies when it happened. What would be important about children?

And if the demon was after them, why were they alive? Though Calypso didn't voice her thoughts, they made her wonder.

"Sam," Dean said. "If it had wanted you, it would've just taken you. Ok? This is not your fault, it's not about you."

"Then what is it about?" Sam asked, frustrated.

"It's about that damn thing that did this to our family," Dean said angrily. "The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all."

Was it?

"Actually there's, uh..." Sam began, trailing off. "There's something else too."

"Like what?" Calypso asked. What else could there possibly be?

"When Max left me in that closet, with that big cabinet against the door..." Sam explained hesitantly. "I moved it."

As in... Max move it?

"Huh," Dean said, unconcerned. "You got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for."

"You moron, he meant as in, like, Max!" Calypso said, annoyed. Dean had missed the whole point.

Dean paused his gathering of clothes and stood very still.

"Oh." It was silent. "Right."

"Yeah," Sam said awkwardly. After all, what could you say in this situation? It wasn't as if there was a book on it, or something. Dean went over to a table. What was he doing? Did he just pick up a spoon?

He did.

"Bend this," Dean told Sam in all seriousness, holding the spoon out to him.

"I can't just turn it on and off, Dean," Sam told him, annoyed.

"Well how'd you do it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, I can't control it," Sam claimed. "I just... I saw you die and it just came out of me, like a, like a punch."

"So, like some weird adrenaline thing?" Calypso asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well I'm sure it won't happen again," Dean said confidently.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam said. Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?"

"Nope," Dean said while Calypso shook her head. "No way. You know why?"

"No. Why?" Sam asked.

"Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have," Dean told him.

"Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean," Sam pointed out.

"No. Me." He smirked, then noticed Calypso standing a few feet away. "And Callie of course. As long as we're around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you."

Calypso smiled.

"Promise," she agreed. Sam looked between them with a happy small smile on his face.

Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and moved towards Sam a few steps.

"Now, then," he said. "I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

This was another one of his jokes, wasn't it?

"Where?"

"Vegas."

Of course.

Calypso rolled her eyes and walked out the door to the car. As soon as she was outside, a wide smile spread across her face and she looked up at the moon.

And, for the first time in a while, everything was okay.