The drive to Lake Moore was anything but silent, what with the best of mullet rock blaring from the speakers. The two passengers barely said a word, though. Dean just drove, never even took his eyes off the road, and Sam got the uneasy feeling that something was terribly wrong with his brother. Even worse, it felt like they were walking blindly into a trap, even knowing that the demon was in town.
"So," Dean finally said as they passed a sign declaring that they'd entered the peaceful town of Lake Moore, "Meg told you where she's staying?"
"A nice motel on the other side of town," Sam replied, reaching forward and turning down the radio, "she said she got two rooms. One for her, one for us."
Dean nodded. "Sounds great, but I'd rather see Max before we unpack, if that's all right with you."
"No objection," Sam replied, not really in the mood for an argument. Besides, he was more than just a little curious to see what had happened to Max Miller since the last time they'd met, which, as far as Sam could remember, was the time Max shot his brother in the head.
The Impala zoomed past the motel where Meg's old Ford was parked, heading straight for the scattering of cabins around the lake. Finally, as they neared the summerhouses of the rich and famous, Sam asked the question that had been burning in his mind all day.
"Meg told me you asked her out today," he began quietly, "any reason?"
Dean just shrugged, his face suddenly becoming still, as if he was trying unsuccessfully to create some kind of mask to hide behind. Sam realized that his brother probably hadn't had to hide any emotion since he was ten, but why was he trying to hide now?
"You think she's hot?" Sam prodded.
Again, his brother shrugged.
"Because, you know, she's not that good looking, and she was possessed when I knew her, so-"
"She turned me down. Did she tell you that?"
"Yeah. So?"
"So, she picked you. Girls always picked you. There's nothing wrong with you. They want you because you're normal, and you're perfect, and you're not some kind of wild animal."
Children like Dean cannot be raised. They are not like other children. They are feral, and must, therefore, be tamed
It made sense. He'd had the dream because he'd needed to know where it was coming from, needed to know that it wasn't just some off-the-wall comment, but a real memory, a problem that had to be faced.
"You're not an animal, and I'm not perfect."
"Could have fooled me," Dean muttered as he parked the car in front of one of the large cabins.
"You look exactly like your father!" Max gushed as he ushered the Winchester brothers into his well-furnished summer home, "I mean, the resemblance is really uncanny! It's amazing!"
"Yeah, well," Dean grinned, shrugging as Max offered him a seat, "we got that a lot."
"Got?"
"He, um, he died earlier this month," Sam explained, "and a week after that we lost everyone else in a fire."
"That's terrible," Max said, his voice cracking with sadness, "I'm so sorry."
"So are we," Dean said sadly, "but we didn't come all this way just to bring you down. Actually, we wanted to warn you."
"Warn me?" Max asked, running a tanned hand through his long hair. He definitely looked healthier than the last time Sam had seen him. "Warn me about what?"
"The thing that killed your biological mother," Sam said, still marveling at the slight muscles visible under the younger man's light jacket, "it's back. We thought we'd killed it a long time ago, but we were wrong. That's what killed our father. It's killed our whole family now, and we don't want it getting you, too."
"That's not the only thing you should worry about, though," Dean added quickly, "watch out for freak accidents a la 'Final Destination.' Trust me on this one."
"Freak accidents?" Max asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down, "Like, what, a plane motor crashing suddenly to Earth and beheading me?"
Dean nodded. "Something along those lines, yeah. You just need to be careful until we can figure out a way to save you again."
Max grinned, his eyes sparkling, and, in the sunlight, seeming to turn yellow for a split second. "Well, it's good to know that the Winchesters have got my back," he said as his eyes returned to their familiar light blue.
Sam narrowed his eyes, staring at Max, who had begun a conversation with Dean about what they'd been up to since their last meeting. Something was off about the younger man. His eyes had been yellow, Sam had seen that, was sure of it. The demon had already gotten to him.
Suddenly, Max snapped his head around to glare at Sam. "What's that, Psychic Boy? Don't trust me?"
Before Sam could react, he felt himself flying through the air to be pinned up against one of the cabin's wooden walls. Dean stumbled from the couch as the demon stood and neared Sam. Suddenly, the elder Winchester flew the length of the room, crashing into the wall hard enough to splinter the wood paneling.
"Don't interfere," the demon hissed with Max's voice as the businessman's eyes turned a sickly shade of yellow, "for your own sake, boy, don't interfere."
"The hell I won't," Dean shouted, trying desperately to tear the creature's murky gaze from his little brother, "you made us kill our father. I'm not letting you take Sam, too."
"Newsflash, genius," the Big Bad shouted, turning on Max's heels and walking quickly to Dean, "that man wasn't your father. He wasn't even your uncle. He was you, and you let him die all alone, without anyone in the world to care or mourn."
"I cared," Dean whispered, his face set, eyes shining with fear, "I mourned."
"You mourned for yourself, yes," the demon smirked, "but no one else really gave a crap about the man. Sammy sure didn't care. Didn't even shed a tear. He's hardly even registered the fact that he's gone."
"That's not his fault," Dean said, "it's not his fault he doesn't remember."
"No, it's not, is it?" the demon asked, standing less than three inches away from the man pinned to the wall and looking smugly up at him, "it's yours. If it wasn't for you and your pathetic issues none of this would be a problem for Sam. Everything bad that's ever happed to him, to anyone in this world is your fault. You and your selfish ways. Tisk tisk, Dean. I'm disappointed."
"Hey," Sam shouted, realizing what the demon was doing and trying to draw its attention away from his brother, "I'm getting kind of bored over here."
The Big Bad ignored him, focusing mainly on Dean, its eyes glinting with cold malice. "Your brother doesn't need you. He could go off on his own at any time. He proved that when he got back from his little time trip, didn't he, Deanster? Oh, yeah, he just up and left."
Dean's eyes narrowed. "He had his reasons."
"Oh, yes, wanting to get as far away from you as possible. He hates you. You're just a nuisance to him."
"Sticks and stones," Dean smiled.
The demon smirked. "Yes, you pretend that words can never hurt you, but they cut deep, don't they? Deeper than you like to go. If you prefer, though, I can always resort to physical torture."
"I'd like to see you try."
Sam moaned, knowing all too well what was coming. The ripping of flesh, the pain-filled cries, blood dripping slowly form his older brother's mouth as the usually-strong man begged for mercy. He didn't want to see it again.
The demon took a step back, lowering its stolen eyes, the smug grin never leaving Max's face. Slowly, it brought its head up, light red hair falling out of its face to reveal those blazing yellow eyes as Dean realized his mistake. Screams filled the cabin as the front door burst open and Meg rushed in, clutching the antique Colt to her chest.
The Big Bad turned, snarling, and waved an arm through the air, sending Meg flying as she aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting the demon square in the middle of the forehead.
Max's body fell to floor as Sam and Dean were released from their invisible prisons. Sam landed on his feet while his weakened brother slid into a kneeling position.
The younger hunter's primary concern, though, was Meg, who had sailed through the air to fall back against an ornate candle sconce. She was stuck to the wall, the metal fixture jammed painfully through her back and penetrating her chest.
"Meg," Sam began, stumbling clumsily over to where she had landed, "oh, no, Meg…"
"Make sure," the tiny blonde gasped, "that it's dead. Make sure I didn't die… for nothing." She managed a weak smile before falling limp, her last breath hissing slowly from between barely-parted lips.
Nodding, Sam wandered over to where Max's body lay and checked for a pulse, though he could tell by the condition of the body that the young man was no longer alive.
Finally, he turned to his brother, who was attempting to stand. "Didn't think he'd actually do it, did you?" Sam asked angrily.
Dean blinked a couple of times, finally gaining his feet, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell onto the hardwood floor, motionless except for the slight rise and fall of his chest.
Wow, I'm evil, huh? I killed two characters and left another one wounded. Now it's time to see if the demon's words ring true and Sammy leaves his brother yet again...