This was unbelievable. This kid. I had trusted this kid and all along, he had been using telepathic powers and killing off his family members one by one...and now he was going after his mother. Well, step-mother. Sure, his motives were understandable. Though his method wasn't commendable. I rubbed my temples as we sat in the car, and Dean and Page were both looking at me, concern on their faces. I swallowed hard and ran a hand through my hair nervously. "Max is doing it," I told them, shaking my head in dismay. "Everything I've been seeing."

Page looked at me and her eyes widened in shock, then her face twisted around into an uncertain gaze. "You sure about this?" she asked me with a shrug.

I nodded. I'd seen him, levitate a knife into the air and stick it right in between his stepmother's eyes. I'd seen her cold body, fall to the floor. I saw her...die. I nodded again. "Yeah. I saw..." I showed Page a look of concern, too.

"How's he pulling it off?" Dean piped in, seeming slightly amused by everything. But it was hardly amusing. And when I told him, he'd either laugh at me like I'd lost my mind or call me a liar.

But Page seemed to be hanging on everything I was saying, so I spoke up, if only for her. "I don't know. It looked like telekinesis..." I told them, and watched as, just as I'd suspected, Dean's face twisted into an amused grin. He liked to act like he kept an open mind, but really, it was about as closed as a freshly-slammed door.

"So, he's psychic?" Page asked from the backseat of the Impala, an eyebrow raised. She seemed entertained by it all, but at least it looked like she believed me.

Dean, though, had a typical Dean look on his face. "He's a spoon-bender?" he asked with a huge smirk.

I nodded at both of them, though part of me just wanted to punch Dean. "I didn't even realize it, but this whole time he was there," I said, shaking my head in dismay of myself. I should have pieced it together. "He was outside of the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died," I sighed. "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, guys?" I looked from Dean to Page, hoping one of them had the answers. "I guess because we're so alike?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked me, shaking his head in disagreement. "The dude's nothing like you."

I shook my head and stood my ground. "Well, we both have psychic abilities. We're both—"

Page shook her head and interrupted me. "Both what? Sam, Max is a monster," she said to me, putting a hand on my shoulder and trying to comfort me a bit. It was working, but I still felt oddly responsible for what had happened. What was happening. "He's already killed two people, and now he's gunning for a third."

I shrugged and looked over my shoulder at Page. "Well, with what he went through—the beatings?" I asked, watching Page's face twist in concern, and now it was probably toward Max. "To want revenge on those people, I'm sorry, guys, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane..." I shook my head. It wasn't. We were essentially doing the same thing, going for revenge on the people who had hurt our loved ones. Max was on a personal vendetta, but essentially, it was the same thing.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family."

I glared at Dean. "Dean—"

Dean stood his ground—not that I expected any less, this being Dean and all. "He's no different than anything else we've hunted. Alright? We've gotta end him..." he told me, pulling the car over and shutting it off in front of the Millers' house.

I grabbed Dean's arm and shook my head insistently. "We're not gonna kill Max," I put my foot down and glared at him. He was not going to kill this kid just because he had some problem putting his emotions together. I was not going to let that shit happen.

Page was about to say something, but she didn't get the chance, before Dean opened his mouth. "Then what?" he asked with an indignant look on his face. "I hand him over to the cops and say, 'Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind?'" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Forget it. No way, man," I said, keeping my hand gripped firmly on Dean's arm. There was no way he was going to kill this kid. No way in hell.

"Sam—"

I shook my head at Dean. "Dean. He's a person," I insisted, figuring that Dean was so used to fighting dead and undead things, that he forgot that we were dealing with a living being this time around. "We can talk to him. Hey. Guys, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one," I said, glancing at Dean.

Page spoke up first. "I will, yes," she nodded. I smiled. I knew that I could count on Page. Ever since that night...outside of the hotel in Burkitsville, things had been different, yet the same. We were still confidantes, who could kill one another's bad moods with a simple look, only now...bad moods could be killed by simple kisses, too. I smiled when she agreed to let me take the lead, then looked at Dean.

Dean huffed out a sigh and nodded his head. "Alright, fine. But I'm not lettin' him hurt anybody else," he said as he opened the glove compartment of the Impala and grabbed a gun. That was fine. I could agree to that, especially since my loved ones were going to be in the room now.

I nodded and let go of Dean's arm, letting him get out of the car, and watching as he let Page out, too. I carefully thought of what I could say to this kid, who had been through worse hell than I had, and got out of the car myself. We walked into the house, Page walking close by me, and Dean on the other side of her. I raised my hand to knock, but...Dean shook his head and pointed at the window. "We have to get in there. Now!" she said. I followed her hand, to see that, just as in my vision, Ms. Miller was chopping vegetables for dinner, and crying, and the knife was rattling on the table once she set it down. I reached for the door and opened it quickly.

Ms. Miller looked at us, starting with Page, then to Dean, then me. "Sister Christian?" she asked in amazement, raising her eyebrows. I inwardly cursed Dean for giving Page the name 'Sister Christian.' He needed to start coming up with ideas for names that DIDN'T come from 70's songs. "Fathers?"

Max stared at us like we had three heads. "What are you doing here?" he asked with an indignant scoff.

Page ran a hand through her hair and looked between the two of them nervously. "Uh, sorry to interrupt," she said, then looked at me. She knew what I wanted her to do, so she spoke up for me. "Max, could we, uh—could we talk to you outside for just one second?"

Max glared at her, like he was trying to burn a hole in her head. "About what?"

I stepped in, smiling at Page, thanking her silently for the help. "It's—it's private," I spoke nervously. I wasn't sure what to say from there, but I kept going anyway. All I knew was that Dean's way? Was not the right way to handle this. "I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though. I promise."

Max glanced from Dean, to Page, then to me, and shrugged a little. "Okay," he said simply.

I smiled and nodded toward the living room. "Great..." I said, putting a hand on Page's shoulder as we made our way into the living room.

I was pondering what to say, and I think I'd decided to just stick with honesty, and tell Max about my dreams. Tell him about what happened. I turned around and prepared to say something, when I heard Max explode at us. "You're not priests! And you're non a nun!" he shouted, pointing at the three of us. Dean swallowed hard and pulled the gun from his pocket, aiming it at Max, only to have it telekinetically jerked from his hands and drop to the floor. Max leaned down to pick it up and pointed it at the three of us.

And in perfect timing, Ms. Miller walked into the room, and looked at Max in surprise. "Max, what's happening?!" she asked him, staring at the scene before her eyes. "What are you doing?!"

"Shut UP!" Max shouted at her, flashing her a death glare, listening as she asked what he was doing, then jerked his head, sending Ms. Miller flying backward into a kitchen counter, then to the floor, unconscious. "I said shut up!" he hollered at her unconscious form.

I watched Page jump and sort of hide behind me, and I held my hands out. "Max, calm down!" I said to him, putting one hand on Page's arm as she was behind me.

"Who are you?!" Max snapped indignantly, pointing the gun at us still.

Page was burying her face in my shoulder from behind me, and I spoke again. "We just wanna talk to you," I told him.

"Yeah, right, that's why you brought this!" Max shouted.

"That was a mistake, alright?" I said with a glare in Dean's general direction. "So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just, please—just hear me out..." I felt Page sniffle into the back of my jacket, and felt a twinge of nervousness course through me. I wasn't talking myself out of this. I was talking for three of us. Four, if I included Ms. Miller. Which I did, but...what I cared about the most was that I got Page, Dean and I out of here safely.

Max's face softened a little. "About what?"

I tried to think through the best way to put this, and took a step forward, gently pushing Page in Dean's direction. "I saw you do it," I told him with a nod, glancing quickly over my shoulder to make sure that Page was okay. She was clinging to Dean, crying in his shoulder, but that was okay. She was safer there, because she wasn't right in the face of this...killer. "I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."

"What?" Max raised an eyebrow.

I nodded my head. "I'm having visions, Max. About you," I told him.

"You're crazy," he shouted, incredulously.

I scoffed and tilted my head a little. "So, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" I asked him, raising a hand to point at my eye, as I'd seen in my vision. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max?" I shrugged. "Look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here, alright? I think I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me!" he cried out in frustration.

I looked around nervously, noting that the light fixture above us was beginning to shake. "Let me try," I semi-pleaded with him. "We'll just talk. Me and you. We'll get Dean, Page and Alice out of here..." I said. I knew one thing for sure. I didn't want Page here...just in case.

"Nuh-uh. No way," Dean shook his head, and I glanced over to see Page's head peek up.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max screamed, and I saw Page jump and put her face back in Dean's shoulder.

Dean hugged Page a little tighter and interjected. "Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him."

I turned toward Dean and spoke in a quiet tone. "Yes, you are," I turned back to Max and kept my tone calm, though worry was coursing through me like a wave. "Look, Max, you're in charge here, alright?" I told him, biting my lower lip when Page looked nervously at Dean. "We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don't want to, but I'm talkin' five minutes here, man."

"Sam..." Dean spoke up, but I didn't let him continue.

"Five minutes," Max seemed to calm down a little, and looked at Dean and Page. "Go."

I watched Page shudder and follow Dean to help Ms. Miller up, then pause at my side as she went back by. "Sam...be care--"

"NOW!" Max shouted, and Page ran as fast as she could with Ms. Miller's weight on her shoulders, and in that moment, I almost regretted my decision. Especially when I saw the fear-filled look on her face when she walked up the stairs. I swallowed hard and nodded to the couch.

"Let's sit..." I said to Max, walking over to the couch and taking a seat, watching as he sat in a chair a ways away from me. He stared, intently at a letter opener on the table beside him and put it up on it's tip. "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through..." I started, the way he was twirling that letter opener making me a bit antsy. At any second, he could snap and throw the letter opener at me.

His eyes didn't move from the letter opener, and it was tilting back and forth on the table. "That's right, you can't," he told me bluntly.

I sighed and shook my head at him. "Max, this has to stop," I told him softly, frowning a little.

Max shrugged. "It will. After my stepmother."

"No. You need to let her go," I shook my head.

"Why?" he asked.

And with that, the letter opener started spinning on the table, and my heart started beating a bit faster. I tried not to let it show. "Did she beat you?" I asked him.

"No. But she never tried to save me, she's a part of it, too..." he said. He was right, but...I couldn't tell him that.

I sighed. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to do this, so I simply tried to identify with him. "Look, what they did to you, what they all did to you, growing up—they deserve to be punished."

Max scoffed. "Growing up?" he asked, and stood up. "Try last week..." he raised his shirt and showed me the bruises. "My dad still hit me, just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard, I guess..." he said and sat back down in the chair.

Shock befell my face, and a mixture of that and sadness culminated in the pit of my stomach. I frowned. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, glancing back up to meet his eye.

Max spoke up again, and the letter opener started to twirl a little faster. "When I first found out I could move things, it was a gift..." he started. "My whole life I was helpless. But now I had this. So, last week, Dad gets drunk—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."

I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and felt my heart rate escalate even more. This could not be healthy for me. "Why didn't you just leave?" I asked, and then the letter opener dropped to the table. I swear, in that moment, I must have leapt three feet off the couch.

Max shook his head and glared at me. "It wasn't about getting away—just knowing that they'd still be out there," he said sadly. "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?"

I shook my head. Sure, I always saw disappointment and anger. But there was always love mixed in. And then, with Page's dad, Danny, I saw love. So, I never had to deal with that feeling. "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my mom's death..."

I raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a second. His father blamed him for...oh God. "Why would he blame you for your mom's death?" I asked. This poor kid.

Max nodded. "Because she died in my nursery. While I was asleep in my crib." I felt my eyes widening in shock. The same way...my mother—oh shit. "As if that makes it my fault."

I was still trying to piece this together. "She died in your nursery?" I repeated.

"Yeah. There was a fire. 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..." Max said. Shock befell my face, but it clicked in my brain why this was happening.

I took a deep breath and told myself inwardly that this was what I needed to do. How I could fix this. "Listen to me, Max. What your dad said about what happened to your mom—it's real..."

Max glared at me. "What?"

I nodded and scratched my head. "It happened to my mom, too. Exactly the same—my nursery, my crib. My dad saw her on the ceiling...and the same thing...killed my friend Page's whole family. Maybe not in the same way, but--"

"Then your dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"No. No, it's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers..." I told him. God, he had to believe this. He believed in his powers, so this wasn't...exactly outlandish for him. At least it shouldn't be.

"That's not possible."

I tried to think of the best way to put this. Flat out truth had gotten me this far. So, maybe I should stick with it. "This must be why I've been 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 six, seven months ago, right? Out of the blue?" I asked, hoping I wasn't losing it.

He looked at me again, shock still plastered on his face. "How'd you know that?"

I grinned a little bit at him. Maybe...I could finally have someone to relate to in all this. Page was fantastic and Dean was great, but...God, having someone who understood what I was going through on a real, true level? Would be amazing. I kept talking. "Because that's when my abilities started, Max. I mean, yours seem to be much further along, but still, this—this means something, right? I mean, for some reason, you and I—you and I were chosen..."

Max looked incredulous. "For what?"

I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lower lip. I should have known that he'd ask that. "I don't know. But Dean, Page and I—my brother, my friend and I, we're hunting for your mom's killer..." I told him with a small smile. "And we can find answers. Answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go. You gotta let your stepmother go."

Max stood up. "No. What they did to me—I still have nightmares! I'm still scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for their next beating! I'm just tired of being scared. If I do this, it'll be over!" he said, beginning to walk to the stairs.

I shook my head and kept talking, trying as hard as I could to stop him. "No, don't you get it?" I pleaded with him to stop. "It won't. 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 swallowed hard. This was...really a last ditch effort.

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry..." he said, and nodded his head toward an open closet door.

And before I could even take a step to get out of the way, I felt my body being flung backward, into the closet. I reached for the door, but...before I could even touch it, I heard a large object sliding in front of the door. "No!" I shouted, and started pounding on the closet door. My mind raced. Page. Dean. They were...I pounded harder. "No, Max! No! Max!" I shouted, but to no avail.

"Max!" Ms. Miller's voice permeated my ears, filled with anguish as Max entered the room, gun in hand. But Max let go of the gun and it hovered in the air, toward Page, Dean and Ms. Miller. "No. Max..." she pleaded. Dean, who was patching up Ms. Miller's wounds, started toward Max.

Max moved the gun along with Dean. "Stay back. It's not about you..." he said to Dean.

Page took a couple steps forward and stood between Max, Dean and Ms. Miller. "If you want to kill them, you have to go through me first..." she said, trying to play the hero, in typical Page fashion.

"Okay..." Max said simply and the trigger pulled on the gun, the shot going through Page's head...and...hitting Dean in the shoulder. Both of them fell to the floor, and the wall behind them was completely covered in blood...and they were...Page was dead and Dean...oh God.

I snapped out of it, my head in searing pain and swear creeping down my forehead. But...usually when my visions stopped, the pain stopped. Why was it still...hurting? I didn't care. How was I going to get out of this? Page...and Dean...were both going to die if I didn't...I couldn't think straight. My head...was in so much pain. "No. No!" I shouted, and...god, the pain. It was...it was unbelievable. I shouted at the top of my lungs, and...wait. I heard the scraping sound of the cabinet moving away from the closet door. I stood there for a second, wondering why and how it had suddenly gotten brighter in the closet, and pushed on the door. It opened, and without a seconds hesitation, I rushed up the stairs, to the room that Dean, Page and Ms. Miller were in.

I heard Page's voice as I got closer to the door. "If you want to kill them, you have to go through me first," she said.

I heard Max say his 'okay,' and grabbed the doorknob, flinging the door open. The gun moved a couple of inches to the right, and went off...and I gasped, watching as Page, rather than falling to the floor, clutched her arm. I was about to advance and help her, when my grasp on the situation came back, and the gun turned and pointed at Dean again. "No, don't! Don't! Please..." I pleaded with him. "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..." I told him.

Max looked at me, simply staring for a moment. After a second, he nodded, then moved the gun from Dean. "You're right," he said.

I smiled. Good...so, maybe all it took was my using my powers to overcome a seemingly impossible situation to—wait. No. "No!" He was turning the gun on himself and...my eyes widened as the gun went off, and Max's blood covered me. I stared as he fell to the floor, and Page, Ms. Miller and Dean all stood there, stunned. I glanced forward and locked eyes with Page. Dean was telling Ms. Miller to point him to a phone so that he could call 911, and all I could do was just...stare at Page. I took a couple of steps forward and wrapped my arms around her gently. "Are you..."

She nodded and looked at her arm. "Yeah. It hurts, but...I'm...alive..." she spoke in a tearful voice as she caught a glimpse of Max's body. "God. He...he was going to..."

I reached up and moved a piece of hair from Page's face. "But he didn't. I...wasn't about to let that happen, okay? I'm here for you, Page. I promise..." I told her. It was true. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips again, and she buried her face in my shoulder. If it came down to it? I would take a bullet for that woman. I smoothed her hair back once more and kissed her on the forehead, as we slowly made our way down the stairs to get her patched up and talk to the police.