Later that night, Dean was cleaning the weapons while I was sitting on the bed, my back was against the headboard and Sam's laptop on my lap as I was searching through the history of the land.

Sam walked in. "What do you have?" Dean asked him. "A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built," Sam replied. "What about the land?" Dean asked me.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property," I said and sighed as I put the laptop to the side. Sam sunk on my bed, his back faced me and Dean.

"Hey, man, I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada," Dean said. Sam looked over his shoulder at me, "And the family said everything was normal?"

"Well, if there was a demon or poltergiest in there you think somebody would have noticed something?" I said and he looked away, sighing. "I used the infer-red thermal scanner, man, and there was nothing," Dean said.

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged as he stopped cleaning, "I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house," He said and went back to cleaning the guns.

Sam started to rub his temples and I frowned, "Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house." He took a deep breath, holding his head, his back became tense, "Maybe it's just . . . Gosh." He hold his hand to his forehead and I sat up straight. "Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked. Sam made anguished noises and sunk from the bed to crouch on the floor, "Ahh. My head."

"Sam?" I called as I jumped out of the bed and crouched in front of my big brother. "Sam? Hey," Dean said as he rushed over to us and crouched down beside me. He grabbed his arm, "Hey! What's going on? Talk to us."

Sam cried out and Dean and I shook him. "Sam?!" I called. "Sammy!" Dean called. Suddenly, Sam's eyes focused on us again and he winced. "It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

We climbed into the Impala and drove away, racing through the town to get to Roger Miller's house. "Roger Miller. Ah no, no, just the address please," Sam said slowly into his phone, holding his head. "Okay, thanks." He hung up and looked at Dean, "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120."

"You okay?" I asked softly as I leaned into the front and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah," He breathed out. "If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery . . ." Dean trailed off as I glared at him.

"I'm fine, just drive," Sam said. "All right," Dean mumbled. Sam looked at me then at Dean, sighing heavily before looking straight on, "Guys, I'm scared. 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. It'll be fine," Dean said. "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 asked.

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

"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 you out," Sam said to us. Dean stared straight ahead for a long moment before speaking, "This doesn't freak me out."

He glanced back to me and I sighed, "This doesn't freak me out," I said. He stared at me for a moment then turned to Dean before looking out the window. The truth is; I was really freaked out. Why did it happened to Sam? How can Dean and I could help him?

The Impala pulled up outside the apartment building just in time for us to see Roger approaching the entrance with a bag of groceries in his arms.

"Hey, Roger!" Sam yelled, leaning over slightly to Dean's window. Roger turned to us, "What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone," He said, turning back and beginning to walk away again.

"No! Please!" I yelled but he carried on moving towards the building. Dean gunned the engine, jumping the curb as he hurriedly parks.

The three of us jumped out the car hurriedly and took off running. "Hey. Roger. We're trying to help!" I yelled. He looked over his shoulder and sped up his walk to get the door.

"Please! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey," Sam cried just as we got to the door and Roger closed the door behind him, not letting us in. "I don't want your help," He said and then walked away.

"We're not priests, you gotta listen to us!" Sam called after him. "Roger, you're in danger!" Dean yelled but Roger didn't came back.

I sighed in frustration and looked around. "Okay, come on. Come on, come on," I said and we ran around the corner to a back entrance, it was securely locked. Dean quickly looked around then kicked it open.

We jumped to the first level of the fire escape then ran up the stairs. When we were one floor from Roger's house, we stopped when we heard a window slide down and a wet squelching noise.

Dean and I snapped out of it and sprinted past Sam, only to stop again once we were outside Roger's window. The window was dripping with blood and his disembodied head lay in the flower bed under the window.

I looked away as Sam came up. After a long pause Dean pulled out a rag and threw it to Sam, "Start wiping down your fingerprints, we don't want the cops to know we were here. Come on, come on!" He ordered.

He pulled out another for himself and started wiping the railings. I grabbed the rag from Dean's hands and used it to open the window and climbed in, "I'm gonna take a look inside," I explained and threw the rag back to Dean before turning to investigate the apartment.

... ...

"I'm telling you there was nothing in there," I said as we were walking back to the Impala. "No signs either, just like the Miller's house and the garage."

"I saw something, in the vision. Like a dark shape. Something was . . ." Sam started and then there was a horn of a car and Dean stopped both of us. "Something was stalking Roger," Sam finished as we continued to walk.

"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?" Dean asked. "No, it's connected to the family themselves," Sam said and we reached to the car. "So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?"

"Well, yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families," Dean said and we climbed into the car, "Follow them for years."

"Angiak. Banshees," Sam said. "Basically like a curse," I said, leaning forward. "So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy."

"And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying," Sam said. "Hey, you think Max is in Danger?"

"Let's figure it out before he is," Dean said and turned on the engines. "Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people," Sam said.

"What's that?" Dean and I asked at the same time. "Both our families are cursed," He said. Dean huffed, "Our family's not cursed," He insisted. "We just . . . had our dark spots."

Sam chuckled. "Our dark spots are . . . pretty dark," He said. "You're . . . dark," Dean muttered and I giggled as we pulled out from the curb and headed back to the motel.

...

We pulled outside the Miller's house the next day. We decided I should talk with Max, "Okay, good luck, Munchkin," Dean said and I rolled my eyes. "Thanks," I said and climbed out the Impala. "Hey," Sam said and I lend to his window, "Be gentle with him, okay?" I nodded. "Don't worry," I promised and walked towards the house.

I knocked on the door and after a moment, Max opened it. "Hey, I'm Scarlett, I live close by," I said with a smile. He nodded. "Yeah, I saw you here yesterday," He stated. "Is your Mom here?" I asked. "She's resting, she's pretty wrecked," He replied and I gave a small nod and a smile. "Do you want to come in?"

I smiled, "Yeah, thanks," I said and stepped inside as he stepped aside. He closed the door. "All these people kept coming with like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole," He joked as we walked to the living room.

I gave a small giggle and he smiled. "Please, sat," He said and I sat on the couch and he sat on the armchair. "How you holding up?" I asked softly. "Okay," He said.

"You're Dad and uncle were close?" I asked. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little," He replied.

"But not lately?" I asked. "No, it's not that. It's just . . . We used to be neighbours when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time," He explained.

"Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" I asked. "It was fine. Why?" He asked, suddenly becoming a little nervous.

"Were they all good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?" I asked gently. His eyes filled with fear and he shook his head, "What do ya . . . why do you ask?"

"I just asking," I said softly. "No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy," He said but as he said the last part, his eyes were filled with sadness and fear together.

"Good. That's good," I said and looked down for a moment before looking back, "I think I should go, you must be exhausted."

He gave me a small smile and we both stood up. "Thanks, it was nice to met you," I said with a soft smile. "Yeah, you too," He said, giving me a smile again.

He led me to the front door and opened it for me, "Thanks," I said with a smile. I stepped outside and turned around to face him, "Say hey to your mother from me," I said. "I will," He said with a small smile.

I nodded and walked down the porch steps. He closed the door and I went to the Impala where my brothers were waiting. I climbed into the back seat.

"Huh," Dean said and I frowned, "What?" I asked as I leaned forward. "It just looked like, I don't know . . ." He said as he started the turned on the engines, "Like he likes you," Sam said and Dean nodded.

I frowned, "Can we focus?" I asked. "Okay," Dean said, shrugged as we pulled out. "No one's family is totally normal and happy. When I talked to him about his old house, he sounded scared," I said.

"So, Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighbourhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers," Dean said.