Max led us to the living room and we all sat down. Max was sitting opposite me and Sam and just stared at a letter opener on the small table. It lifted on it's own and began twirling on it's point.

"Why did you want me to stay?" I asked softly. Max didn't looked away from the knife but he smiled slightly, "I feel a little calmer when you around," He admitted.

I frowned. "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through," Sam spoke. "That's right, you can't," Max said as his smile faded.

"Max, this has to stop," Sam said. "It will, after my stepmother -"

"No, Max," I cut Max off, "You need to let her go."

"Why?" Max asked. "Did she beat you?" Sam asked. "No, but she never tried to save me. She's a part of it, too," Max said. "What they did, to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished -"

"Growing up?" Max cut him off, "Try last week."

My eyes grow wide and he stood up. He lifted his shirt, revealing his side were a mass of bruises. I felt tears in my eyes but I fought them back.

"My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it," He said and pulled down the shirt. "Old habits die hard I guess." He sat back down.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly. Max stared back at the knife, "When I first found out I could move things it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week Dad gets drunk. The first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do."

"Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked softly. Max spoke as the knife dropped, making both me and Sam to jump slightly, "It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about . . . not being afraid. When my Dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

"No," Sam whispered, shaking his head. Max looked at me and I shook my head, looking down on the floor. Dad never hit me or Sam and Dean or looked at us with hate. He was always there for us, even when he and Sam were fighting all the time, Dad never do something like that. He loved us.

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death," Max said. "Why would he blame you for your Mom's death?" Sam asked.

Max lent forward, "Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault." Both me and Sam looked at him with wide eyes.

"She died in your nursery?" Sam and I asked at the same time. "There was a fire," Max explained. "And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!"

"Listen to me, Max. What your Dad said, about what happened to your Mom. It's real," Sam said. "What?" Max asked, confused.

"It happened to my Mom too, exactly the same. My nursery, my crib, my Dad saw her on the ceiling," Sam said. "Your Dad must have been as drunk as mine," Max comment.

"No, no. It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers," Sam said. "That's impossible," Max said. "This must be why I'm having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started 6-7 months ago right, out of the blue?" Sam said.

"How'd you know that?" Max asked. "Cause that's when my abilities started, Max. Yours seem to me much further along but still, this has to mean something right? I mean for some reason, you and I . . . you and I were chosen," Sam said.

"For what?" Max asked. "I don't know. But Dean, Scar and I, my siblings and I, we're hunting for your Mom's killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go, Max. You gotta let your stepmother go," Sam said.

Max stared at me and Sam for a long moment before shaking his head, "No. What they did to me. I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for that next beating," He said and stood us and started to walk away, "I'm so sick of being scared all the time, I just want this to be over!"

Sam and I stood in his way, "It won't. Don't you get it? The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this. It's just, more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don't have to go through all this by yourself," I said softly.

He stared at me for a moment. "I'm sorry," He said. Suddenly, I flew back and my back hit the wall, hard and everything went black.

My eyes snapped open and I groaned as a pain spread to my back. I saw Sam stepping out a the hall closest and a tall, heavy, hallway bookshelf was slightly aside.

He looked at me and rushed over to get me up. "You okay?" He asked, chucking me over to see if I was hurt. I nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay," I said and he sighed in relief. "Okay, let's go," He said and ran to the stairs. I ran after him and we brushed into the upstairs bedroom.

Dean's gun was aimed at Dean by itself, "No don't!" Sam said. "Don't! Please. Please. Max." I took one step forward, "Max. We can help you. All right. But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything," I said softly.

He started at me then at Sam, who gave a small nod, then back at me for a long moment. He was shaking, sweaty and with tears. Suddenly, he relaxed a little, his face cleared, "You're right."

Sam and I smiled at him, but then Max turned away from us, as the gun swing to point at him. He shoot himself in the head. "NO!" Sam yelled as I covered my mouth with my hand as I gave a small scream.

... ...

It was night when the police and the ambulance came. A cop questioned Ms. Miller as she was sitting on the couch in the living room and me and my brothers stood behind the couch. "Max attacked me. He threatened me with a gun," She said.

"And these three?" The cop asked, pointing at me and my brothers. "They're . . ." Ms. Miller started as she looked at us before back at the cop, "Family friends. 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 cop asked. I glanced between my brothers. Ms. Miller began to cry and looked at the ceiling, "I don't know. He showed up with it and . . ." She broke down.

"It's all right Ms. Miller," The cop said. "I've lost everyone," Ms. Miller sobbed. The cop looked at us, "We'll give you a call if we have any further questions." Dean nodded, "Thanks officer." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pat Sam's arm, "Come on." We walked out of the house.

"If I'd said something else . . ." I mumbled but Dean shook his head, "Don't do that." Sam shook his head, "Maybe we could've gotten through to him somehow," He said.

"Stop. Don't you guys torture yourselves. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone," Dean said. "You risked your lives. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there 20 years earlier."

We got to the Impala. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad," Sam said. Dean and I looked at him, shocked but also pleased. Dean chuckled, "Well I never thought I'd hear you say that," He said.

"Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom," Sam said. "I little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we woulda had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him." I looked back to Max's house and then glanced at Sam and Dean, "All things considered," I agreed and smiled, which they both smiled too.

We went back at our hotel room. Sam and I placed our bags in the trunk of the Impala, which was backed up to the door, and then we walked back inside the room. "Guys, I've been thinking," Sam said as I walked into the bathroom.

"Well, that's never a good thing," I called, jokingly and heard Dean giving a chuckle. "I'm serious," Sam said and I closed the bathroom door. I looked at the mirror, staring at my reflection just for a moment.

There was a knock on the door, "Scar, is there a white shirt there?" Sam asked. "Yeah," I said, glancing at a white shirt beside me. I opened the door and stepped out, handing it to him. "Thanks," He said.

Dean hold out a spoon and I frowned, "Bend this," He said to Sam. Sam glanced over and got frustrated, "I can't just turn it on and off, Dean." He frowned, "Well, how'd you do it?"

"I don't know, I can't control it. I just . . . I saw you die and then Scar burning and it just came out of me, like a, like a punch. You know like . . . a freak adrenaline thing," Sam said and I frowned. Burning?

"Yeah, well I'm sure it won't happen again," Dean said. "Yeah, maybe," Sam said. "Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?"

"Nope. No way. You know why?" Dean asked. "No. Why?" Sam asked. "Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have," Dean said. "Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean," Sam said.

"No. Us," I said as Dean put on his jacket and smirked. "That's right, as long as Scar and I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you," He said. Sam had his puppy dog look and a tiny smile. Dean slipped his bag over his shoulder and moved towards Sam and I, "Now then."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder as I stood beside him, "I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

"Where?" Sam asked. "Vegas," He replied, deadpan and then we both grinned at Sam. Sam tilted his head, the looked away, and then back, a small smile on his face as he gave us his bitchface and walked out door to the car.

"What? Come on, man. Craps tables. We'd clean up!" Dean said as I followed Sam out and giggled before climbing into the back seat.