May 14th - May 18th, 2006

I woke up to loud movement, lights flicking on, and Dean whispering, "What are you doing man, it's the middle of the night."

I sat up. "What's going on?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes.

"We have to go," Sam said, as he packed his bag.

"What's happening?" Dean asked, now alert.

"We have to go. Right now," Sam said urgently. Then he grabbed his bag and walked out of the room.

I looked over at Dean, who was now getting out of his bed. "What the hell?"

He looked over and raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me, little girl?"

I laughed nervously. "I didn't say anything."

"That's what I thought, now get up. Apparently, we need to hit the road," Dean said as he threw his things into his bag and then picked up mine, setting it on the couch next to me. "Pack this and get dressed I will be back in, in a sec." Then he walked out of the room with his bag.

I quickly got up, grabbed some clothes, and ran to the bathroom to get dressed. I ran back out and packed my bag just in time for Dean to walk in.

He walked over and picked up my bag. "Ready? The kids freakin' out."

I nodded and then followed him out of the motel to the Impala. "What's wrong?"

Dean looked down at me. "He had a dream about a man getting locked in a car, in a garage, while the car was running. He said the man couldn't get out, and he died."

I raised my eyebrows in shock, and when we got to the car, Sam was on the phone. Dean turned on the car and took off down the road.

Sam read off one of his fake police badges. "McCreedy. Detective McCreedy. Badge number 1-5-8. I've got a signal 4-80 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven." (...) "Yeah, okay, just hurry." He sighed and was clearly put on hold.

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

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam nodded.

"I mean it... a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see." Dean shook his head.

Sam looked over at Dean, still on hold. "It felt different, Dean. Real... like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica."

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

"No," Sam said.

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

Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

Dean shook his head. "Me neither."

Sam turned quickly. "Yes, I'm here." (...) He glared over at Dean, then grabbed a pen and paper and started writing. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks." He hung up and sighed. "Checks out... how far are we?"

Dean glanced over at Sam. "From Saginaw? A couple hours."

"Drive faster," Sam said, staring out of the front of the car.


Dean pulled up to a house with Emergency vehicles in front of it, someone was being wheeled out of the garage on a stretcher. Sam and Dean gave each other concerned expressions, and then we got out of the car and stood with the crowd of people watching.

"What happened?" Dean asked a woman.

"Suicide." She shook her head. "Can't believe it."

"Did you know him?" Sam asked.

"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," the woman said.

"Guess not." Dean shrugged.

"How did... uh. How are they saying it happened?" Sam asked.

"I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running," she said.

Sam sighed. "Do you know about what time they found him?"

The woman shook her head and sighed. "Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

A woman was standing on the front step of the house, crying, and leaning against a middle-aged man. A man a little younger than Sam stood behind them, looking distraught.

Dean put his hand on my shoulder, which made me notice that Sam was no longer standing next to us. He led me away to the Impala, where Sam was leaning against the hood.

"Sam, we got here as fast as we could," Dean said sympathetically as he leaned against the hood as well and laid his arm across my shoulders.

Sam sighed. "Not fast enough. 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?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno."

Sam sighed and put his head down. "So, what do you think killed him?"

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

Sam shook his head and looked over at Dean. "I'm telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."

"What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?" Dean asked.

"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 said frustrated.

Dean didn't say anything and just stared over at Sam.

"What?" Sam snapped.

Dean shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just... I'm worried about you, man."

"Well, don't look at me like that." Sam scoffed.

Dean looked back at the house. "I'm not looking at you like anything." Then he glanced back at Sam. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."

"Nice. Thanks," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean stood up and walked to the back door, opening it for me. "Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning." I hopped in, he closed the door and walked over to his side. "We'll check out the house, talk to the family."

"Dean, you saw them, they're devastated." Sam shook his head. "They're not going to want to talk to us."

Dean leaned against his open door. "Yeah, you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to."

"Who?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean chuckled and got into the car.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

Dean just smirked at me in the rear-view mirror, and Sam got in the car.


Dean had come up with the idea to dress up like priests to talk to the family because he believed that this way, the family would actually talk to them. Dean was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his collar, and Sam came walking out of the bathroom, looking very uncomfortable.

"You actually think this is a good idea?" I asked.

Dean turned back to me and smiled. "Yeah, why not?"

"Oh, I don't know... you don't think this is slightly... crossing the line?" I asked.

"Well, if we save these people and stop this thing. I'm willing to do whatever we have to," Dean said.

I shrugged. "I guess that makes sense." I looked over at Sam, who still looked very uncomfortable. "What's wrong?" I laughed.

"This..." Sam gestured to his clothes. "This is wrong."

"Oh, come on. We've gotta talk to these people. So, just suck it up," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I never said I wasn't going through with it. It just feels wrong."

"Well, if you're going to play the part, you have to look the part," I said.

Sam looked at me, confused. "What... this isn't enough?"

"We have to tame the mane," I said, pointing to Sam's hair, which was hanging in his eyes.

"Really? Coming from the queen of wild hair." Sam smirked.

"Hey, I'm not pretending to be a priest, am I?" I sassed. Then I patted the bed for him to sit. "So, come here."

Sam walked over and sat on the bed. "What're you gonna do?"

"What? Can't you just trust me?" I turned to my bag and pulled out my hairbrush.

Sam stood up. "No, you don't need to brush my hair."

"Sam! Ugh, stop being annoying about it. I'm just trying to help you." I glared at him with my hand on my hip, pointing my hairbrush at him.

"By brushing my hair?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I'm going to brush your hair back so you look more professional. So... we can either do this the easy way or the hard way." I smirked.

Dean laughed. "I can't wait to see how this plays out." He sat down on the other bed.

Sam smirked at me evilly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked nervously. I stepped back slowly. "Don't do what I think you're gonna do."

Sam lunged forward and threw me over his shoulder.

"No, no, no. Stop!" I kicked as I laughed.

He laughed. "You asked for it." Then he slammed me down on the bed and started tickling me.

"Stop!" I laughed, trying to push his hands away. "I... can't... breathe," I said, in between laughs.

Sam finally stopped and stood up. "You done?"

"Are you done?" I sassed.

Sam raised an eyebrow and put his hands up as if he was going to tickle me again.

I put my hands up in defense. "Okay, okay. I give. Jeez."

Dean laughed. "Are you two ready to go now?"

"Wait," I said and then looked at Sam, pouting my bottom lip and giving him puppy dog eyes. "Please let me fix your hair."

Sam groaned and plopped down on the bed. "Fine."

"Yes!" I jumped up and started brushing his hair back.

"Ow!" Sam yelled.

I pulled my hand back, startled. "I'm sorry," I said, feeling bad.

Sam smirked. "Just kidding."

I smacked him on the shoulder with the brush. "Jerk."

Sam laughed, and then I finished brushing his hair back. "See that wasn't so hard."

Sam and Dean stood up.

Sam laughed. "I'm pretty sure that was done the hard way."

Dean walked over and opened the door. "Yeah, did you learn your lesson about threatening your big brothers?" He smiled.

I shrugged. "No, 'cause I still got what I wanted."

Dean looked at Sam, and his smile slowly left his face. "Let's go." He pointed out the door for us to leave.


When we pulled up to the Miller house, Sam and Dean got out and walked up to the front door. Dean pressed the doorbell, and a man answered a few moments later.

I sighed and leaned back as they walked into the house. I had nothing to do again, I had already read Harry Potter three times. So, I decided to grab some paper and a pencil and draw the house while I waited. I was actually able to finish the entire drawing by the time Sam and Dean came back out to the car.

"So?" I asked when they got in.

Dean sighed. "Well, Jim's brother, Roger, was not into the whole priest thing."

Sam nodded. "But we were able to talk to Mrs. Miller and Max, Jim's son."

"Did you get anything from them?" I asked.

Dean shook his head. "Mrs. Miller didn't really give me much."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Max, either. He's just upset about what happened."

I nodded, completely understanding why Max would be shaken up.


Back at the motel room, Dean and I were sitting on his bed while he was cleaning all of his weapons. We were waiting for Sam to get back from the library.

I looked up when the door opened, and Sam walked in.

"What do you have?" Dean asked while cleaning his shotgun.

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

"What about the land?" Dean asked.

Sam sank down on his bed, facing us. "No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

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

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

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there, don't you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infrared thermal scanner, man, and there was nothing."

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

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

Sam rubbed his temples. "Yeah... well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house." He took a deep breath while rubbing his forehead. "Maybe it's just... gosh." He closed his eyes in pain, still holding his head. "Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"Sam?" I asked, watching him fight through the pain.

Dean looked up from his guns, now concerned. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam slowly sank off the bed onto the floor. Now crouching and still holding his head, he exhaled sharply. "Ah. My head."

Dean quickly got up and ran to. him. "Sam?" He crouched down and grabbed Sam's arms. "Hey! Hey! What's going on? Talk to me."

Sam just stared at Dean, pain in his eyes, breathing heavily. He clutched Dean's arm and stared into his eyes, but it almost seemed like he wasn't looking at Dean.

After a moment, Sam's expression changed, and he was back in the room with us again. "It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

Dean quickly stood Sam up and looked back at me. "Come on, let's go. Quickly."


Sam was calling around, trying to figure out where Roger Miller lived, he was still fighting whatever pain he was dealing with.

"Roger Miller. Ah, no, no, just the address, please. Okay, thanks," Sam said, fighting through the pain. He hung up the phone and turned to Dean. "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120."

"You okay?" Dean asked, looking over at him.

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

"If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over... ya know, 'cause the upholstery..." Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine. Just drive."

"All right." Dean nodded, looking back at the road.

Sam looked out of his window and sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm scared, man." He shook his head. "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."

Dean looked over at Sam. "Come on, man, you'll be all right. It'll be fine."

Sam looked over at Dean and leaned back. "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?"

Dean shook his head and turned back to the road. "I don't know, Sam, but we'll figure it out. We face the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing."

"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, getting frustrated.

Dean paused for a while, just staring at the road ahead of him. "This doesn't freak me out."

Sam stared at Dean for a moment, then turned away.

Dean was definitely lying. Of course, he would be worried about something like this. I was, for sure. Dean always does that though. He pretends he's not scared of anything, so other people don't worry, but it is really frustrating to deal with sometimes.


We pulled up to the entrance of an apartment building, a man was walking toward the building carrying groceries.

"Hey, Roger!" Sam called to the man.

"What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone!" Roger called back and picked up his speed toward the building.

"Please!" Sam yelled.

Dean quickly parked the car, and they both jumped out and ran to the door, but it had locked behind Roger.

"Hey. Roger. We're trying to help!" Sam yelled, "Please! Hey, hey, hey."

Roger turned to look out of the glass door. "I don't want your help." Then he walked away.

"We're not priests, you gotta listen to us!" Sam yelled after him.

"Roger, you're in danger!" Dean shouted. He sighed and then quickly looked around. "Come on. Come on, come on." He gestured to follow him and then started running toward a dark alley just around the corner.

Sam followed, so I got out of the car and ran after them. When I got to them, Dean was kicking down a gated door.

Dean looked back to see if anyone was watching before they ran into the alley, when he spotted me. "Maddison. Get back to the car now!" He pointed back to the Impala.

I groaned. "But—"

"No!" He pointed again.

I groaned and stomped back to the car.

Once I reached the Impala, I opened the door, got in, and slammed it shut.

After a couple minutes I heard a car beep, I looked up and saw Sam and Dean walking back to the Impala.

"Well yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years," Dean said as he opened his door and got in.

"Banshees?" Sam asked, getting in, and shutting his door.

"Basically, like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy," Dean suggested, looking over at Sam.

Sam sighed. "And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying." He looked over at Dean. "Hey, you think Max is in danger?"

"Let's figure it out before he is." Dean started the car.

"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people." Sam sighed.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Both our families are cursed." Sam shook his head.

Dean huffed. "Our family's not cursed! We've just... had our dark spots."

Sam laughed. "Our dark spots are... pretty dark."

"You're... dark," Dean responded, childishly. He pulled away from the curb and started driving.

"So, does this mean that something happened to Roger?" I asked.

Dean sighed heavily. "Uh, yeah, kiddo. Something got to him before we could."

"That quickly?" I asked, surprised. "He was alive a few minutes ago."

"Whatever is after this family, it's moving fast. We have to stop this thing before it gets anyone else," Dean said.

We drove back to the motel to rest up and let the news about Roger get to the Miller's before Sam and Dean spoke to them again.


In the morning, Sam and Dean went back to the Miller's house dressed as priests. They talked to them briefly as they didn't want to cause any more harm and then came back out to the Impala, where I was waiting for them.

"Anything new?" I asked once they got in.

Sam shook his head. "No, not really. Mrs. Miller was asleep, and Max didn't really have much to tell us."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but no one's family is totally normal and happy. See when he was talking about his old house?"

Sam nodded. "He sounded scared."

Dean started the car. "Yeah, Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."


On the drive, Sam made some phone calls and found out where the Miller's used to live. When we pulled up in front of their old house, Sam noticed a man doing yard work across the street. We all got out and walked over to him.

Dean waved, and the man nodded and smiled.

"Hi, have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Sam asked.

The man nodded. "Yeah, almost twenty years now." He looked around and smiled. "It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"

Sam shook his head. "No, no, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street, I believe." He pointed to the Miller's old house.

"Yeah, the Miller's. They had a little boy named Max," Dean said, raising his hand to gesture the height of a small child.

"Right," Sam said.

The man sighed and looked down with a sad expression. "Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door." He looked back up. "So, uh, what's this about, is that poor kid okay?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

The man spoke with slight anger in his voice. "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 outta, Max... bruises... broke his arm two times... that I know of."

"This was going on regularly?" Sam asked.

The man nodded. "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, not lifting a finger to protect him... I must have called the police seven or eight times." He shrugged. "Never did any good."

"Now you said, stepmother?" Dean asked.

The man nodded. "I think his real mother died. Some sorta... accident... car accident, I think." The man quickly turned his attention to Sam. "Are you okay there?"

I looked over and realized Sam had his head in his hand, and he was grimacing.

Sam winced. "Uh, yeah."

Dean put his hand on Sam's shoulder and turned to the man. "Thanks for your time."

"Yeah, thank you," Sam said, still in pain.

Dean walked around me to help Sam to the car.

Sam gasped and grabbed his head. "God." Then he looked off into the distance, and I could tell he was having another vision.

"Uh, is he okay?!" the man called over to us.

"Yeah, thank you!" Dean called back and quickly helped Sam into the car.

I got in, and then Dean followed and drove off. The man was still staring at us as we took off down the road.

After a moment, Sam came back. "Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing."

Dean looked over at Sam. "You sure about this?"

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I saw him."

"How's he pulling it off?" Dean asked.

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

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

Sam shrugged. "I didn't even realize it, but this whole time, he was there. 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 Miller's, I was connecting to Max!" He shook his head. "The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess... because we're so alike?"

Dean looked over at Sam. "What are you talking about. The dude's nothing like you."

Sam sighed. "Well. We both have psychic abilities, we both—"

Dean snapped, "Both what? 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? I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane," Sam said.

"Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family," Dean said, angrily.

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

Dean pulled over in front of the Miller's house. "He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right? We gotta end him."

Sam shook his head. "We're not going to kill Max.

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

Sam shook his head. "No way. Forget it."

Dean turned off the engine. "Sam—"

"Dean. He's a person. We can talk to him," Sam said, seriously. "Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."

"Sam, maybe Dean's right. Maybe he has gone too far. I mean, he killed his family. I can't see someone going back from that," I said cautiously.

Sam looked back at me, seemingly hurt by what I had said, and then turned back to Dean. "Dean, please."

Dean looked away, sighed, and after a long pause, he spoke. "All right, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else." He reached forward and pulled a gun out of his glove compartment, glaring at Sam and then turned back to me.

"No, no. Please, Dean," I begged.

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, but if he can do what Sam says. I don't want you in there."

I groaned and leaned back, looking away from Dean as he got out.

Both of the doors slammed, and I was left alone, like always.

I watched the house and waited for Sam and Dean to walk back out of the front door.

A minute later, I saw the front door open slightly and then slam shut. After that, every single window and shutter slammed shut. My heart started pounding, my brothers were in trouble.

I got out of the Impala and started pacing, watching the house. Then the shutters began rattling, and I couldn't wait anymore, I needed to make sure they were okay.

I knew that the front door wasn't an option, so I sneaked around to the back of the house. I found a window in the back corner of the house that I hoped would be the safest one for me to climb through. I couldn't see through the window since the shutters were closed, so I put my ear against it, hoping I would be able to hear something. I could hear muffled talking, and I could tell it was far enough away that it was possible no one would see me climb through the window, I was just hoping that there was a wall between them and me.

I put my hands on the window, pressing up, and thankfully it cracked open. I slipped my fingers under the window and pulled it up. Then I carefully opened the shutters, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I sighed with relief when I looked into a dining room with no one in it. Luckily, the window was close enough to the ground that I could easily climb through. When I did, I carefully dropped down from the windowsill, trying to not make any noise.

I could hear Sam's voice in the other room, "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through."

Another shaky voice, who I assumed was Max, spoke, "That's right, you can't."

"Max, this has to stop," Sam said.

I tip-toed toward the kitchen and noticed fresh blood on the edge of the counter.

Max sniffled. "It will, after my stepmother—"

"No. You need to let her go," Sam said.

"Why?" Max asked.

I turned the corner to the right, now I was looking at the front door. There was an archway on the right side of the hall and stairs to the left. The voices were closer now.

"Did she beat you?" Sam asked.

"No, but she never tried to save me. She's a part of it too," Max said, angrily.

"What they did, to you..." Sam said, "What they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished—"

Max scoffed. "Growing up? Try last week."

I walked forward quietly and peered into the archway. Max was standing with his back to me, he had his shirt lifted, and I could see bruises all over him.

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

Sam and I made eye contact, and I could see his jaw tighten. He looked back at Max quickly. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

I turned around and carefully but quickly walked up the stairs.

"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..." Max's voice became muffled as I turned the corner to the left.

Now I was looking down another hallway, all of the doors were opened except one. So, I walked to it and slowly opened it.

When I peered in, Dean and a woman were staring at the door. They were sitting on the bed of what seemed to be the master bedroom.

Dean stood up as I walked in. "Maddison, what the hell are you doing?"

The woman who I assumed was Mrs. Miller spoke. "Who is this?"

"She's my sister, and she is supposed to be waiting in the car," Dean answered through gritted teeth, glaring at me.

I looked over at Mrs. Miller and smiled and then realized she had a huge gash on her forehead. I gasped and walked over to her. "Are you okay?" I asked, looking at her cut.

She sniffled, with tears in her eyes, she touched her forehead and winced. I looked over my shoulder and noticed a door leading into a bathroom, so I quickly walked in to search for something to help her.

"Maddison, you aren't supposed to be in here," Dean said, now standing at the bathroom door.

"Yeah, there are a lot of things I'm not supposed to do, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't do them," I said as I found a washcloth and wet it. I walked around Dean over to Mrs. Miller and started wiping the blood off of her.

"Yes, yes. That is exactly what it means. When Sam and I tell you to stay put, that's what you should do," Dean scolded.

I looked up from Mrs. Miller. "I thought you were in trouble. What was I supposed to do? Sit there and wonder if you were dead or alive?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

I looked back down at what I was doing. "Well, that's not gonna happen, so you can forget about that."

Dean walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing me away from Mrs. Miller so I would look at him. He bent down to look me in the eyes. "You can't do this anymore. I've let you get away with it too many times, but you could die. Do you understand that?"

I sighed. "Yes, I understand, but—"

"Then you need to listen to me... if something happens to Sam or me during a hunt and you're there, we can't protect you," he said.

"And what do you think is going to happen to me if you're on a hunt and something happens to you, and I'm not there? You still can't protect me, and I will be completely on my own. I am no better off waiting in a car for you." I started getting angry because he didn't understand. "Don't you get that I'd rather fight to the end with you guys then do nothing at all? Look, I know I can't do much, and I know I'm eleven, and I know you worry about me, but I'm smart, and I can handle a lot more than you give me credit for."

Dean looked taken aback, but before he could speak, the door swung open, and Max walked in. Dean stood up and turned around but was flung and slammed against a wall by an unseen force.

I gasped, and Max looked over at me with a confused expression, but quickly turned his attention back to his stepmother. He pulled a gun out of his pocket, opened his hand, and allowed it to float in front of him.

Dean got up and tried to put himself in between me, Mrs. Miller, and the levitating gun. Max turned the gun to face it directly at Mrs. Miller.

"Max. No," she pleaded.

Dean stepped in front of her, and the gun turned to point at him.

"Stay back. It's not about you," Max said shakily.

"If you're going to kill her, you gotta go through me first," Dean said, standing his ground.

"Okay," Max said, not batting an eyelash.

"No!" I screamed.

Max looked at me, and then the door burst open, and Sam came in. "No, don't! Don't! Please. Please. Max. Max."

The gun began to shake as Max lost some concentration.

"We can help you." Sam tried to convince him. "All right. But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything."

Max was a mess, he began shaking, sweating, and tears streamed down his face. He looked at Sam and stared. Then he relaxed slightly. "You're right."

Sam smiled at Max, but Max turned away from him as he swung the gun to point it at himself. Then he pulled the trigger, blood splattered, and he fell to the floor.

I screamed, and Dean pulled me into his chest, not wanting me to see the tragedy that lay before us.

"No!" Sam yelled.

"Max!" Mrs. Miller cried.


The next hour was a blur, the four of us went downstairs and called the police. Once they arrived, they began asking questions. The whole time I zoned out, picturing Max shooting himself, over, and over again. In the car, I had said that maybe they should kill him because of what he did. I just didn't realize how broken he really was. He didn't deserve anything that had happened to him. I couldn't believe that I wished him dead.

I snapped out of it when the officer who was talking to Mrs. Miller pointed over to us. I hadn't even realized that Dean had his arm around me.

"They're... 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 officer asked.

Mrs. Miller began to cry and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't know. He showed up with it and..." She broke down.

"It's all right, Mrs. Miller," the officer said.

"I've lost everyone." She sobbed.

A tear ran down my cheek, still thinking about Max. Seeing her cry made me angry, I didn't understand how she could be so upset to lose someone she never fought for.

The officer turned to us. "We'll give you a call if we have any further questions."

"Thanks, officer," Dean said and then patted me on the shoulder. "Come on."

As we walked out of the house and down the path to the car, Sam broke the silence. "If I'd just said something else. Gotten through to him somehow."

"Ah, don't do that," Dean said.

"Do what?" Sam asked.

"Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone," Dean explained.

"When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before... I shoulda done something." Sam shook his head.

"Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier," Dean said.

Sam walked around to his side of the car and Dean, and I stood on ours. Dean looked over at me, he furrowed his brow, softened his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a frown. I wiped my eyes and got into the car before he could say anything.

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

Dean laughed slightly. "Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A 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," Sam said.

"All things considered," Dean said, and they both got into the car.


We drove back to the motel in silence, and when we got there, Dean backed the Impala up to the door so we could pack and leave.

"Dean, I've been thinking," Sam said.

"Well, that's never a good thing," Dean joked.

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

Dean shook his head. "I have no idea."

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

"Why would you think that?" Dean asked.

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

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

"Then what is it about?" Sam asked.

"It's about that 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," Dean said.

"Actually, there's uh ... there's something else too," Sam said, reluctantly.

"Ah, jeez, what?" Dean asked.

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

I stopped packing and looked up at Sam. He made eye contact with me and tightened his jaw, he could tell I knew what he meant, and he looked worried.

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

"No man, I moved it. Like, Max," Sam explained.

Dean stopped packing and looked up, pausing for a moment. "Oh."

There was silence between us.

"Right," Dean said softly.

"Yeah." Sam sighed.

Dean picked up a spoon and held it out to Sam. "Bend this."

"I can't just turn it on and off, Dean," Sam said, frustrated.

"Well, how'd you do it?" Dean shrugged.

"I don't know, I can't control it. I just... I saw you die, and it just came out of me... like a— like a punch. Ya know, like... a freak adrenaline thing," Sam explained.

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

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

"Nope. No way. Ya know why?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No. Why?"

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

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

"No... me." Dean smirked. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you."

Sam smirked slightly.

Dean zipped his bag and swung it over his shoulder. "Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Vegas," Dean said with a straight face, and then he grinned.

Sam looked at Dean, irritated, scoffed, and then walked to the car.

"What? Come on, man. Craps tables. We'd clean up!" Dean yelled after Sam.