Chapter 14 - Nightmare
Sam shoots up and looks around the dark motel room. The dream he just had was so real, so vibrant, and just like the other dreams he had before. He turns on the lamp sitting on the nightstand and sees that Dean and Addison are asleep in the other bed. He gets out of his bed and moves over to theirs. "Dean," Sam says, shaking Dean's shoulder. "Dean."
Dean lets out a groan and sits up. Sam starts running around the room, quickly packing their stuff. "What are you doing, man? It's the middle of the night."
"We have to go."
Addison sits up and reaches over Dean to grab her glasses. "Sam, what's going on," she tiredly asks.
"We have to go. Right now." Sam replies and opens the door. They watch as he grabs his bags and leaves the room.
Addison looks at Dean. "What's going on?"
Dean runs a hand over his face. "I have no idea, Ads."
Addison leans forward and crosses her arms on the back of the front seat. Sam was on his cell phone and Dean was driving. Sam had explained the dream he had to them and Addison thought he was over reacting. "McCreedy. Detective McCreedy, badge number fifteen A. And I've got a signal 480 in progress. I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate. Mary, Frank, 6037. Yeah, okay, just hurry," Sam says into his cell.
"Sammy, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare," Dean tells him.
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"No, I mean it. You know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out, you'll see."
"It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica."
"Sam, you were dreaming about your old house, your girlfriend," Addison comments. "This guy in your dream, have you ever seen him before?"
"No."
"Then why would you have a vision about some random person in Michigan?"
"I don't know."
"Me neither," Dean says.
"Yes, I'm here," Sam says, turning his attention back to his phone. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address. Got it. Thanks." Sam hangs up his cell and looks up. "Checks out. How far are we?"
"From Saginaw," Dean asks.
"Yeah."
"Couple hours."
"Drive faster," Sam tells him and Dean presses down on the gas.
They pull up to a street filled with police cars and ambulances. They get out and walk over to where a crowd is standing. The paramedics place a body in a body bag and officers are talking with a couple of people. Addison can see the disappointed look on Sam's face. Dean walks over to a woman. "What happened," he asks.
"Suicide. I can't believe it," the woman replies.
"Did you know him," Addison asks.
"I saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine's. He always seems — seemed so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."
"Yeah, I guess not," Dean says.
"Are they saying how it happened," Addison asks the woman.
"I heard they found him in the garage. Locked inside his car with the engine running," the woman answers.
"Do you know about what time they found him," Sam asks, breaking his silence.
"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. Oh, his poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."
They look at a woman, who's standing outside the house, crying and Sam walks away. Dean and Addison follow him back over to the Impala. "Sam, we got here as fast as we could," Dean tells him.
"Not fast enough. It just doesn't make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions, unless there was a chance that I could stop them from happening," Sam asks them.
"I don't know."
"So, what do you think killed him?"
"Maybe he just committed suicide. I mean, maybe there isn't really anything supernatural going on," Addison suggests.
"I'm telling you, I watched it happened. He was murdered by something, Addison. It trapped him in the garage."
"Well, what? A spirit, a poltergeist, what," Dean asks.
"I don't know what it was. I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening, Dean," Sam replies and Dean stares at him. "What?"
"Nothing, man, I'm just worried about you."
"Well, don't look at me like that."
"I'm not lookin' at you like anything. Though I gotta say, you look like crap."
"Nice. Thanks."
"Yeah, well. Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, we'll talk to family."
"Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not gonna wanna talk to us."
"Yeah, you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to," Dean says, smirking. Sam and Addison exchange worried looks. Neither of them wanted to know what Dean's idea was.
They walk up to the front door of the Miller house. Dean rings the doorbell and they wait. "This has got to be a whole new low for us," Sam comments.
"At least you're not dressed up as a fucking nun," Addison mutters. Dean and Sam were wearing priest suits, while Addison was a nun.
The door opens and a man is standing there. "Good afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this Father Frehley, and Sister Beth. We're new over at St. Augustine's. May we come in," Dean asks and the man nods, moving aside to let them in. "Thanks."
"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam says as they enter the house and the man closes the door.
"It is in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is needed," Addison tells the man.
"Look, if you wanna pitch your whole Lord-has-a-plan thing, fine. But don't pitch it to me. My brother is dead," the man tells her.
"Roger, please," a blonde woman says, walking over to them.
"Excuse me," Roger says and walks away.
"I'm sorry about my brother-in-law. He's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee," Mrs. Miller asks them.
"That'd be great," Dean replies. They follow Mrs. Miller into the living room where people were standing around. Dean and Addison sit down on the couch while Sam sits in an armchair.
"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now."
"Of course. After all, we are all God's children," Dean says and Addison and Sam stare at him. Mrs. Miller walks away and Dean grabs a mini sausage from a plate. "What?"
"Maybe you should tone it down a bit, Father," Addison tells him and Mrs. Miller returns, taking a seat in the arm chair across from the couch.
"So, Mrs. Miller, did your husband have a history of depression," Dean asks, mouth full of food.
"Nothing like that. We had our ups and downs, like everyone. But we were happy," Mrs. Miller answers and starts to cry. "I just don't understand how Jim could do something like that."
"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that," Sam tells her.
"Actually, our son, Max — he was the one who found him." Mrs. Miller points to a boy around Sam's age who's sitting alone in a different room.
"Do you mind if maybe I go talk to him," Sam asks.
"Oh, thank you, Father," Mrs. Miller replies and Sam gets up, then leaves.
Dean hands Mrs. Miller a tissue from the box sitting on the coffee table. "Mrs. Miller, you have a very lovely home. How long have you lived here," Addison softly asks.
"We moved in about five years ago."
"Hmmm. You know, the only problem with these old houses — I bet you have all kinds of headaches," Dean comments.
"Like what?"
"Well, weird leaks. Electrical shortages. Odd settling noises at night, that kind of thing."
"No, nothing like that. It's been perfect."
"Is it okay if I use your bathroom," Addison asks.
"Oh, sure. It's just up the stairs," Mrs. Miller answers.
Addison gives her a smile. "Thank you." She stands up and walks out of the room. She walks up the stairs and after a moment, takes out an EMF meter. Addison starts searching the upstairs of the house. Footsteps can be heard from the stairs. She hides the EMF meter under the dress. Addison turns and sees Dean walking up the stairs. She moves down the hallway and waits for him to catch up with her. "People are going to think we're having an affair, Father."
"They'll understand once they see what you have hidden under that, Sister," Dean counters, pulling the infrared thermal scanner out of his jacket. They finish searching the upstairs part of the house but don't find anything. Footsteps echo in the hallway and Dean quickly shoves the scanner back in his jacket.
"I don't know what you are thinking Father Simmons, but I will not partake in that act with you," Addison says and rolls her eyes when Sam appears at the top of the stairs. "Its just Sam."
"Geez, thanks Addison," Sam replies. "Find anything?"
"Zip," Dean tells him and looks at Addison.
"What? It could've been anyone," Addison counters and walks past both of them.
Addison walks out of the bathroom to find Dean still sitting on their bed, with weapons and cleaning supplies around him. She shakes her head as she shoves the nun outfit to the bottom of her duffle. Sam was sitting at the small table with his laptop in front of him. "What do you got," Addison asks, flopping down on Sam's bed.
"A whole lot of nothing," Sam replies. "Nothing bad has happened to the Miller house since it was built."
"What about the land," Dean asks.
"No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."
"Hey, we searched that entire house," Addison says. "The EMF didn't pick anything up, there weren't any cold spots and I sure as hell didn't smell any sulfur."
"And the family said everything was normal?"
"Well, I mean, if there was a demon or a poltergeist in there, don't you think somebody would've noticed something," Dean retorts. "I used the infrared thermal scanner, man, there was nothing."
"So, what, you both think Jim Miller killed himself? And my dream was just some sort of freakish coincidence?"
Dean and Addison exchange a look. "Don't know. But I'm pretty sure that there's nothing supernatural about that house."
"Yeah." Sam winces and rubs his head. "Well, you know, maybe, uh — maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe, it's just, uh — gosh — maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way."
Sam grabs his head. "Sam, you okay," Addison asks, walking over to him. She places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"No, my head." Sam groans in pain.
Dean rushes over to him and grabs his shoulders. "Sam? Hey. Hey! What's going on? Talk to us." Sam stares at them, shocked. "Sam."
"I think he's having a vision," Addison disbelievingly states.
Sam blinks and stares at them. "It's happening again," he pants. "Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."
Addison watches with concern as Sam talks with someone on his cell phone. She knew Dean was just as worried as she was, but he didn't let it show. Sam hangs up his phone and shoves it in his jacket pocket. "450 West Grove, apartment 1120," he tells Dean.
Addison places a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
Dean glances at him. "If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over, you know, cause the upholstery—"
"I'm fine."
"Alright."
"Just drive."
"Alright."
Sam lets out a deep breath. "I'm scared, guys. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing them when I'm awake? And these visions or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."
Addison wraps her arms around him the best she can and gives him a comforting hug. "Sam, it's gonna be okay."
"What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them? Why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?"
"Sam, we're gonna find out what's going on. This is just another part of our lives."
"No. It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak either of you out."
"This doesn't freak us out," Dean and Addison tell him at once. A short while later, they pull up to the apartment complex. Dean slows down when he sees Roger walking down the street, carrying a bag of groceries.
Sam rolls down the window and leans out. "Hey, Roger!"
"Hey, hold up a second," Dean shouts.
Roger stops and looks at them. "What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone," he coldly tells them.
"Please," Sam shouts. Dean pulls over and they climb out of the Impala. "Hey, Roger, we're trying to help! Please!"
Roger darts into the building. He locks the door. "I don't want your help."
"We're not priests! You've gotta listen to us!"
"Roger, you're in danger," Addison shouts as Roger disappears up the stairs.
"Hey," Dean says, motioning to a nearby alley. After reaching the back of the building, they find the fire escape that leads up Roger's building and climb up it. A loud crashing sound causes them to go faster. They reach a ledge and Addison immediately turns away. Blood covered the window. Roger's head sat on the window sill.
Dean pulls a couple of rags out of his pocket and hands one each to Addison and Sam. "Here, start wiping down your fingerprints. We don't want the cops to know we were here. Go, go, come on." Numbly, she starts wiping down the railing. Dean finds another window. "Hey, I'm gonna take a look inside." No one says anything as he climbs into the apartment.
Addison splashes cold water on her face. She was in the bathroom of the motel. She had no idea how she had managed not to puke on the silent drive back. Slowly, Addison makes her way out of the bathroom. "You done puking," Dean asks.
"I think I'll puke all over your shoes next time," Addison counters, sitting down on the bed. "Any ideas on what the hell is happening?"
"No idea."
"There was something there. I just know it," Sam says.
"And I'm telling you there was nothing in there. There's no signs either, just like the Miller's house."
"I saw something in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger."
"Well, we know that it's not connected to the house," Addison says. "So, maybe something that's connected to the family?"
"A vengeful spirit?"
"There's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow 'em for years," Dean says. "It's basically like a curse. So, maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something curse-worthy.
"And now something's out for revenge," Sam reasons. "And the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger?"
"Maybe," Addison replies. "We just got to figure it out."
"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people."
"What's that," Dean asks.
"Both our families are cursed."
"Our family's not cursed. We just..." Dean trails off and shrugs. "Have our dark spots."
"Our dark spots are pretty dark."
"You're…dark."
Addison sighs as they enter the Miller's house. She hated Dean's idea of putting on the costumes for a second time. But mainly she hated her costume. "My mom's resting," Max says, snapping Addison out of her thoughts. "She's pretty wrecked. All these people kept coming with, like, casseroles. I finally had to tell them all to go away." She notices the table filled with saran wrap dishes. "You know, cause nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tuna casserole."
"How are you holding up," Sam asks as they sit down on the couch.
"I'm okay."
"Were your dad and uncle close," Addison softly asks.
"Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."
"But not lately much," Sam asks.
"No, it's not that. It's just — we used to be neighbors when I was a kid. And we lived across town in this house and Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."
"Right. So, how was it in that house when you were a kid?"
"It was fine. Why?"
"All good memories," Dean asks. "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle, maybe?"
Max's gaze goes between them. "What do you - why do you ask?"
"Just a question."
"No. There was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy."
"Good. That's good." Dean stands up and Sam and Addison follow suit. "Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off."
"Thanks," Sam tells Max. He nods and they walk out of the house.
Once they're inside the Impala, Addison pulls off the habit. "He was lying. No one's family is totally normal or happy. Besides, he got all weird when you asked about his old house."
"Sounded scared."
"I say we go find the old neighborhood and find out what life was really like at the Millers," Dean comments, starting the Impala.
"I say we get changed first," Addison replies. "Because I hate these damn costumes." Dean glances at her and smirks. "Shut up."
Addison looks around the neighborhood as she climbs out of the Impala. To her, it looked many of the other neighborhoods they had been in over the years. "Hey," Sam says, motioning to where a man was raking his lawn. The three of them walk over to him. "Excuse me, have you lived in the neighborhood very long?"
"Yeah, almost twenty years now," the man answers, leaning on his rake. "It's nice and quiet. Why? You looking to buy?"
"No, no, actually, we were just wondering if you might recall a family that use to live right across the street, I believe."
"Yeah, the Millers," Dean says. "They had a little boy named Max."
The man takes off his baseball cap and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about? That poor kid okay?"
"What do you mean," Addison questions.
"Well, in my life, I've never seen a child treated like that. 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 out of Max. Bruises, broke his arm two times that I know of."
"And this happened on a regular basis?"
"Practically every day. 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, never lifted a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times, never did any good."
"Now, you said stepmother," Dean asks.
The man nods. "I think his real mom died. Some sort of accident, a car accident, I think." The man notices Sam grabbing his head. "Are you okay, there?"
"Thank you for your time," Addison quickly says. Dean grabs Sam and they make their way back over to the Impala. She opens the back door and he puts Sam in the seat.
"Max is doing it," Sam says, as Dean speeds down the road. Addison was leaning on the front seat. After coming out of his vision, Sam had explained everything. And the immediate decision was to head over to the Millers' house. "Everything I've been seeing."
Dean glances at him. "Sam, are you sure about this?"
"Yeah, I saw it."
"So, how's he doing it then?"
"I don't know. It looked like telekinesis."
"So, he's psychic," Dean asks. "He's a spoon bender?"
"I didn't even realize it, but this whole time he was there. He was outside of 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 I don't get is why, man? I guess because we're so alike."
Dean frowns. "What are you talking about? The dude's nothing like you."
"Well, we both have psychic abilities. We're both—"
"Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He's already killed two people and now he's gunning for a third."
"Well, with what he went through, the beatings. To want revenge on those people, I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane."
"But it doesn't justify murdering his entire family," Addison counters.
"Addison—"
Dean pulls the Impala to a stop in front of the Millers' house. "He's no different than anything else we've hunted. Alright, we've gotta end him."
"We're not gonna kill Max."
"Then what? We hand him over to the cops and say, 'Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind.'" Addison snorts in amusement.
"Forget it. No way, man."
"Sam-"
"Dean, he's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."
Dean reluctantly sighs. "Alright, fine." He reaches into the glove compartment and takes out his gun. "But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."
The three of them climb out of the Impala and walk to the front door. Addison reaches to ring the doorbell, but Sam opens the door and rushes into the home. Dean shrugs and follows his brother. Addison shakes her head and walks into the house, pausing to close the door. They find Max and Mrs. Miller in the kitchen. "Fathers, Sister," Mrs. Miller confusingly asks.
"What are you doing here," Max asks.
"Uh, sorry to interrupt," Dean apologizes.
"Max, could we, uh, could we talk to you outside for just one second," Sam asks.
"About what," Max counters.
"It's — its private. I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though. I promise."
"Okay."
"Great."
They walk into the living room. Dean starts to open the door. Max sees the glint of Dean's gun in the mirror. The door suddenly slams shut. Blinds are pulled over the window. "You're not priests!" Dean pulls out his gun and it flies out of his hand before landing on the floor in front of Max. Addison steps back as Max picks up the gun and aims it at them.
Mrs. Miller walks into the living room. "Max, what's happening?"
"Shut up," Max shouts, tightening his grip on the gun.
"What are you doing?"
Max turns and Mrs. Miller goes flying to into the kitchen island. "I said shut up!"
"Max, calm down," Sam says, taking a cautious step forward.
"Who are you?"
"We just wanna talk to you."
"Yeah, right." Max waves the gun. "That's why you brought this."
"That was a mistake, alright? So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just, please, just hear me out."
"About what?"
"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."
Max stares at Sam in disbelief. "What?"
"I'm having visions, Max. About you."
"You're crazy."
"So, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam points to his eye. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max? Look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here, alright. I think I'm here to help you."
"No one can help me!"
"Let me try. We'll just talk. Me and you. We'll get Dean and Addison and Alice out of here."
"Nuh uh. No way," Dean counters. Addison glances at the ceiling as the light starts to shake.
"Nobody leaves this house," Max screams.
"And nobody has to, alright," Sam tells him. "They'll just — they'll just go upstairs."
"Sam, we can't leave you alone with him," Addison hisses.
"Yes, you are," Sam whispers. He turns back to Max. "Look, Max, you're in charge here, all right? We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don't want to, but I'm talking five minutes here, man."
"Sam," Dean says.
"Five minutes," Max finally says. The light stops shaking. "Go." Addison and Dean walk over to where Mrs. Miller was slowly waking up. Dean helps her up and they walk upstairs. Addison opens a random door to find a bedroom. They walk in and Dean helps Mrs. Miller sit on the bed. Addison walks into the bathroom and wets a washcloth. She hands it to Dean who places it on Mrs. Miller's forehead. Addison goes back into the bathroom and searches for some aspirin.
The bedroom door flies open and Addison rushes out to find Max. Dean moves towards him, but gets slammed into the wall. "Dean," Addison exclaims, running over to him. She helps him up.
Dean starts towards Max, but Max aims the gun at him with his mind. "Stay back. It's not about you."
"If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first," Dean coldly tells him.
"Okay."
Max gets ready to pull the trigger when Sam bursts into the room. "No, don't," Sam shouts. "Don't. Please. Please, Max. Max, we can help you, alright? But this — what you're doing — it's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything."
"You're right." Max turns the gun on himself and fires. Addison grips Dean's arm as Max falls to the floor, dead.
Addison never lets go of Dean's arm while the police talked to them. She kept her gaze on the ground as Max's body was wheeled out of the house on a gurney. She was thankful that the police didn't question her. "Max attacked me," Mrs. Miller says, snapping Addison out of her thoughts. They had moved downstairs after the police had arrived. "He threatened me with a gun."
The officer motions to where Addison, Dean, and Sam were standing. "And these three?"
"They're family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrived, I was scared. They tried to stop him. They fought for the gun."
"Where did Max get the gun?"
"I don't know! He showed up with it and..." Mrs. Miller sobs.
"It's alright, Mrs. Miller."
"I've lost everyone!"
The officer walks over to them. "We'll give you a call if we have any further questions."
"Thanks, Officer," Dean replies. "Come on." As they walk out of the house, Dean pulls his arm out of Addison's grasp. And he immediately wraps around her shoulders.
"If I just said something else," Sam says. "Gotten through to him somehow."
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone."
"When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before..." Sam shakes his head. "I should've done something."
"Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, we're lucky we had Dad."
They stop at the Impala. Dean looks at Sam, shocked. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."
"Well, he could've one a whole another way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting and we would've had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay, thanks to him."
"All things considered," Dean replies, giving Sam a look. Sam takes the hint and climbs into the front seat. Dean turns to Addison. "You gonna be okay, Ads?"
"Yeah," Addison softly answers, rubbing her arms. "Just...seeing Max do that...it just brought up memories I'd rather not remember." Dean softly kisses the side of her head and she gives him a thankful smile.
Addison drops a small cosmetic bag in her duffle bag. Dean was rolling up his jeans. After everything that had happened, they decided that it was best to leave town. "Hey." She looks up and a green bra hits her face. "I'm pretty sure that's yours."
"Thanks for that," Addison sarcastically says.
Sam walks back into the room. "I've been thinking."
"Well, that's never a good thing," Dean comments.
"I'm serious. I've been thinking - why would this demon or whatever it is, why would it kill Mom and Jessica and Max's mother, you know, what does it want?"
"No idea."
"Well, you think maybe it was after us? After Max and me?"
"Why would you think that?"
"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason."
"Sam, if it wanted you, it would've just taken you, okay? This is not your fault. It's not about you."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's about the damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all."
Sam sighs. "Actually, there's, uh, something else too."
"Great," Addison says.
Sam shoots her an unamused look. "When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door - I moved it."
Dean laughs. "You've got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for."
"No, man, I moved it — like Max."
"Oh. Right."
"Yeah."
Dean grabs a spoon off the nightstand. "Bend this."
Sam sighs. "I can't turn it on and off, Dean."
"Well, how'd you do it?"
"I don't know. I can't control. I saw you die and it just came out of me, like a punch. You know, like a freak adrenaline thing."
"I doubt it'll happen again," Addison tells him.
"Yeah, maybe. Aren't you worried? Aren't either of you worried that I could turn into Max or something?"
Dean and Addison exchange a look. "Nope. No way. You know why?"
"No. Why?"
"You have something that Max didn't," Addison comments.
"Dad? Because Dad's not here, Addison."
"No. Us," Dean responds. "As long as we're around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you." Dean picks up his duffle bag. "Now then, I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."
"Where?"
"Vegas." Sam snorts and walks out of the motel room. Addison glares at him. "What? Come on. Craps table. We'd clean up."
Addison picks up her bag and walks over to him. "Do you really think Vegas is somewhere we should go, Dean? Remember what happened last time."
Dean shrugs. "Atlantic City then." Addison shakes her head and walks out of the room. "What? Ads, c'mon!"