Well, it's beena while, but here's the next instalment. I hope you all like it.
Sam sighed, It had been a month since Selene left. Dean had switched to auto-pilot when it came to their hunts, although whether the cause was Selene's leaving, or having to say goodbye to Cassie, Sam didn't know. Every so often, Sam got a glimpse of the real Dean, but that would pass as quickly as a shadow across the moon.
To tell the truth, Sam had been feeling Selene's leaving weighing on his heart too, but at least he had Sundays, which was more then he could say for Dean. Sunday was the day Sam called Selene. He'd tell her the latest case they were working on. She'd offer suggestions on how to destroy it. She'd tell him about what she was up to.
Selene was still near her home town, but couldn't bring herself to live there. She stayed nearby so she could visit her father's grave. Nothing could make her stay in the town though, she still felt a deep sense of betrayal.
Sam smiled slightly. Tomorrow was Sunday, the highlight of his week. The one time he didn't have to worry about Dean, or spectres or ghosts. Flicking the light off, he settled in to sleep, drifting off slowly.
His eyes started flickering behind closed lids as a sudden nightmare took over. Seeing a man dying, Sam suddenly leapt out of bed, shaking Dean awake as he hurriedly threw clothes in a bag. Grabbing his brother, Sam raced out the door and into the car, driving towards the scene of his nightmare.
As they drove to Michigan, Sam made a call to check on the licence plate he'd seen in his dream. Dean spent the entire drive trying to assure Sam that it was just a freaky dream, and the licence plate wouldn't check out. Dean's jaw dropped when he heard the licence belonged to a Jim Miller in Saginaw, Michigan.
When they reached the address, Sam and Dean watched as a body was brought out on a stretcher. Police cars and Ambulance swarmed around the area, keeping most of the public at bay. Driving past, Dean looked for a spot to park his car.
Dean and Sam walked around the perimeter of the police barrier, talking to various observers as they went. Jim had been found inside the garage, locked in his car, with the engine running. Dean stared at Sam. The death had been exactly like his dream.
Sam stormed back to the car, Dean following behind. Dean could see Sam was upset with the situation, and himself. Sam couldn't understand why he received a premonition, when he couldn't do anything to save the victim. Worried, Dean bundled his brother into the car, promising they'd return the next day to check for answers.
"This has got to be a whole new low for us," Sam told his brother, as Dean rang the doorbell. A man opened the door and gazed at Sam and Dean, dressed as ministers. "Good afternoon," Dean smiled, "I'm Father Simmons, and this," he said, indicating his brother, "Is Father Frehley. We're new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?" Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's scam. The man stood aside to let them enter, closing the door behind them.
The man left shortly, and a woman came to greet them. Introducing herself as Jim's wife, she sat down to talk to the brothers. After hearing that her son, Max, had been the one to find the body, Sam offered to go and speak to the boy. A thankful Mrs Miller watched as Sam strode over to the upset youth.
Dean focused his attentions on Mrs Miller, gently probing for information on Jim and the house. Under the excuse of needing the bathroom, Dean made his way upstairs to check for any signs of paranormal involvement. Checking the scanned, Dean heard someone heading in his direction. Stuffing the device away, he turned to see his brother turn into the hallway. "Anything?" Sam asked. Dean sighed, glad it was his brother who'd caught him and not one of the deceased's family. "Zip," he replied.
Sam sat at his laptop, researching the area while Dean had a shower, when his phone rang. "Hey," Sam smiled, knowing who would be on the other end. Maybe she knew something that could help. 'Hey yourself, stranger,' Selene replied, 'I was beginning to think you'd lost my number.' Sam grinned. It wasn't until he heard her voice that he realise just how much he missed her.
"How could I forget you?" Sam asked, "Actually I was out with Dean. I had a premonition of a guy dying, which turned out to be true, but I couldn't get there in time. I can't help wondering why I got this vision if there was nothing I could do to help." Selene pondered this new information.
'Did you stop to think that maybe you weren't mean to help him?' Selene asked, 'Maybe this man's death was inconsequential. The Ties of Fate bind us all. Maybe you're meant to be there, but not for him. There has to be something bigger, something you haven't factored in yet. Once you find the missing piece, the rest of the puzzle will snap into place.'
Sam sighed. He missed this. He missed the way Selene could make him feel at ease. The way she seemed to know exactly what weighed on his mind, and how she always knew how to take it away.
"Still," Sam continued, "I just get his bad feeling that something is after this family." Selene sighed softly. 'You mean you want to watch them,' she replied, 'You want to be able to guard over them. Make sure that what ever you think is after them doesn't get another chance.' Sam sighed heavily. "I wish I could," Sam replied, "But in order to get to the bottom of this, Dean and I need to do the ground work. I wish I had the resources, but we don't."
'Don't worry so much,' Selene's soothing voice told him, 'You'll give yourself wrinkles. Everything will sort itself out. When something effects the balance, the world will find a way to correct itself. Without 'Shadow', there is no concept of 'Light'. You will find a way Sam. I have faith in you, now you just need to have faith in yourself.'
Sam smiled as he hung up the phone. For a demon, Selene sure was an angel in disguise. "Who was that?" Dean asked, sitting on the bed while he cleaned his weapons. Sam shook his head. "No one," Sam replied, turning back to his laptop.
"It sounded like a close friend," Dean responded, wondering why his brother was keeping secrets from him. Sam sighed. "It was Selene," he replied, turning back to face his brother. Dean's face was painted with pain. "So, what?" Dean asked, "She just called out of the blue?" Sam shook his head. "We've been in contact since she left," Sam replied, "We decided that we'd check up on each other once a week. Every Sunday. She gave me her number, and told me to call if I ever needed someone to talk to."
"She gave you her number," Dean re-iterated, feeling slightly betrayed, "So why didn't she give it to me? Were you just going to keep on calling her and not even tell me?" Sam grimaced. He knew Dean would be hurt when he found out, but he had thought that it was Selene's job to give Dean her number if she wanted to talk to him.
"Look," Sam muttered, trying to sooth Dean's raw nerves, "The night you stayed at Cassie's, I came home to find two servings of dinner waiting beside the microwave. Selene was outside, sitting in the tree. She'd made you dinner, and you didn't come home. I woke up to find Selene standing against the wall, staring at the door. I think she'd waited up all night for you to return. She didn't even notice I was there until I touched her shoulder.
"She gave me her number that morning. I think she must've bought a phone the previous day when she walked out. She probably would've given it to you too, but you two had the huge fight. When you pushed her away, I think she felt like you didn't want to talk to her. That you didn't count her as a friend.
"Every time I've spoken to her and tried to bring you or that day into the conversation, she changes the subject. She's really sneaky too, I don't even realise she's done it until after I hang up. I think it's still too painful for her. Your rejection hurt her, really deeply."
"Next time you talk to her," Dean told him, "Tell her I said 'hi'. So, what do you have?" Sam launched into his findings. Nothing bad had happened to the house since it had been built, and the land itself was clean. No graveyards, burial sites, nothing. Dean had scanned the house and hadn't found a single trace of demonic, spiritual or any other paranormal residue in the house. Just as Sam was exploring the concept of the possibility of everything connecting to Jim instead of the house, his head erupted with pain as another vision took hold.
Sam looked up at his brother, sweating and panting. "It's happening again," Sam breathed heavily, "Something's gonna kill Roger Miller." Dean leapt into action, grabbing his brother as he raced to the car. Checking for Roger's address, Dean drove them there as fast as he could.
Pulling up outside Roger's apartment, the brothers saw Roger walking across the street with a bagful of groceries. Sam sang out, trying to get his attention, while the two made their way over to Roger. Annoyed by their presence, Roger told them rather shortly to 'get lost', before entering his apartment building and closing the door, making sure to lock the door.
Sam and Dean tried to warn him about Sam's dream, but Roger walked away and didn't return. Glancing around, Dean grabbed his brother. "Come on!" Dean cried, racing around to the alley beside the apartment building, "Come on, come on!"
Their feet pounded down the alley until the boys reached a fire escape. They climbed flight after flight, racing up the stairs, until they heard a sudden slamming sound. Clambering up one last flight of stairs, the Winchester brothers stopped dead in their tracks, staring at a window pane, splattered with blood.
Dean pulled a couple of rags out of his pocket, handing one to Sam. "Here," Dean told him, "Start wiping down your fingerprints. We don't want the cops to know we were here. Go. Go, come on." Looking a little green, Sam began to rub the rag down the railing. "I'm gonna take a look inside," Dean told his brother, opening another window and climbing in. Sam took a quick glance at the blood soaked glass, cringing slightly while resisting the urge to throw up.
Walking back on to the street, the brothers headed towards their car. "I'm tellin' you," Dean murmured to Sam, "There was nothing in there. There's no signs either, just like the Millers' house." Sam shook his head, he knew there was something not quite right here. "I saw something in the vision," Sam replied, "Like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger." Dean pondered the information for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Well," Dean remarked, "Whatever it was, we can be sure it's not connected to their house."
"No," Sam agreed, "It's connected to the family itself. So what do you think we got? A vengeful spirit?" Finally reaching Dean's car, both boys climbed inside. Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah," Dean concurred, "There's a few that have been known to latch on to families, follow 'em for years." Sam nodded. He just wished Selene were here to give her input. "Banshees," Sam stated.
"Basically like a curse," Dean countered, "So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something curse-worthy." Sam sighed. Why did bad things always happen to good people? "And now something's out for revenge," Sam commented, "And the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger?" Dean glanced at his brother. "Let's figure it out before he is," he replied, starting the engine.
"Well," Sam shrugged, "I know one thing I have in common with these people." Dean glanced at his brother. "What's that?" he asked, leaving the engine running. Sam smiled grimly. "Both our families are cursed," Sam stated.
"Our family is not cursed," Dean replied firmly, "We just…had our dark spots." Sam laughed. "Our dark spots are pretty dark," Sam informed his brother. Dean's eyebrows twitched together. "You're…dark," he finished lamely before driving away from Roger's apartment.Pulling up outside the Millers' house, Sam's eyes wandered to a black motorbike parked in the driveway. "That wasn't there yesterday," Sam commented, drawing Dean's attention to the vehicle. Dean's eyes glazed over with desire as he took in the highly polished black metal and luxurious leather seat.
"Oh," Dean groaned out, "Daddy would love to take you out for a spin. I'd also like to meet your owner, bend her over and give her a spanking she'd never forget. But only if she was cute of course."
Sam glared at his brother incredulously. "How do you know the owner's female?" He asked his brother. Dean smirked, pointing to the rims. "No guy would have neon purple rims," Dean informed him, "Combine that with the sexy, sleek, stylish piece you have in front of you, and you can bet the rider is every guy's wet dream."
Picking up the pair of ladies' leather gloves resting beside the helmet, Dean smirked once more. "I can also tell you she'd be a little shorter then me, slim, and has delicate little hands," Dean continued, "And has a taste for leather. I'm liking this girl more and more." Sam grabbed the gloves out of his brother's hands, placing them back down on the bike. "If you're done drooling over the gloves," Sam replied, "Can we get back to what we're supposed to be doing here."
Once inside the Millers' house, Dean and Sam began talking to Max. "My mum's resting," he told them, "She's pretty wrecked." Dean and Sam nodded sympathetically. "Of course," Dean replied. Max began to shake slightly with anger, as he walked with them to the dining room. "All these people kept coming with, like, casseroles," Max spat out, "I finally had to tell them all to go away." His hand swept over the room, indicating the table loaded with casseroles. "You know," Max bit out, "'Cause nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tuna casserole." Both brothers laughed at that statement.
"Can't complain too much though," Max continued, "At least we got a new house keeper out of it. Spica. She arrived this morning. Told us she wanted to help, and that she'd stay until we were back on our feet.
"Mum, hasn't been the best. She's too shattered to really do anything. But Spica zips around the house, and everything's spotless. She does all the cooking, cleaning and shopping. And she's not too bad to look at either." Dean smirked at the last comment. "She the owner of the bike out front?" Dean asked. Max nodded, making Dean smirk at Sam, having proof that the mysterious owner was indeed a 'hottie'.
"Where is Spica?" Dean asked, "We wouldn't mind speaking with her if possible." Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew exactly what kind of 'discussion' Dean would like to have with this 'mystery girl'. "Can't help you there," Max replied, "She's out shopping for groceries."
"How you holdin' up?" Sam asked, staring at Max intently. Max shrugged slightly. "I'm okay," he replied. Dean nodded slowly, letting Sam do the talking. Sam was better at gaining people's trust anyway. "Your dad and your uncle were close?" Sam asked. Max shrugged once more. "Yeah," he replied, "I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little." Sam's eyebrows twitched together slightly. "But not much lately?" Sam inquired.
"No, it's not like that," Max reassured them, "It's just…we used to be neighbours 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." Sam smiled encouragingly at the boy, before continuing his questions. "Right," Sam acknowledged, "So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" Max glanced between Sam and Dean inquisitively, not knowing where they were taking it. "It was fine," he told them, "Why?"
"All good memories?" Dean asked, cutting in to Sam's inquisition, "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?" Max's gaze flicked between the brothers. "What do you…why do you ask? Max asked, looking slightly flustered. "Just a question," Dean shrugged.
"No," Max replied in an emotionless tone, "There was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy." Dean nodded, not believing the boy before him for a moment. He obviously knew of something happening. "Good," Dean replied, "That's good. Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off." Sam glanced inquiringly at his brother before taking the hint. "Right," Sam agreed, "Thanks." Max glanced between the brothers before shrugging. "Yeah," he muttered.
"Nobody's family is totally normal and happy," Dean told his brother as they walked to his car, "Did you see when he was talkin' about his old house?" Sam thought back a little. "Sounded scared," Sam commented. Dean nodded solemnly to his brother, smiling grimly. "Yeah," Dean replied, "Max isn't tellin' us everything. I say we go find the old neighbourhood and find out what life was really like at the Millers'."
Dean and Sam walked down the street of Max's old neighbourhood, before finally coming to Max's old house. Noticing a man outside his house, Sam and Dean strode over. "Have you lived in the neighbourhood very long?" Sam asked the man. He glanced at the two boys before replying. "Yeah," he told them, "Almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you lookin' to buy?"
Sam shook his head. "No, no," He told the man, "We were just wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street, I believe." Dean took that as his cue to jump in. "Yeah," he remarked, "The Millers. They had a little boy named Max." Sam nodded his agreement. "Right," Sam confirmed. The man looked distressed by something.
"Yeah," the man told them, pointing to the house next to the Miller's old residence "I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what'd this about? That poor kid okay?" Sam glanced inquiringly at the man. "What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"Well," the man replied, "In my life, I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yellin' and throwin' 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." Sam and Dean's faced were that of disbelief and shock. "And this was going on regularly?" Sam inquired.
The man nodded. "Practically every day," he told them, while Sam's face became on of disgust, "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." Sam digested the information. "Now," Dean cut in, "You said stepmother."
The man nodded. "I think his real mum died," the man told them, "Some sort of accident. A car accident, I think. Are you okay there?" he asked Sam, who had begun to clutch his head in pain, his breathing quickly becoming sharp and rapid. "Yeah," Sam grunted out.
"Thanks for your time," Dean told the man, staring at his brother worriedly. Sam winced slightly. "Yeah," he muttered, "Thank you." Dean grabbed his brother, supporting him as they made their way back to his car, when Sam suddenly stopped, his eyes gazing blankly.
"Max is doing it," Sam told his brother as they drove towards the Millers', "Everything I've been seeing." Dean glanced at his brother, worried for his health, and what strains such visions were placing on him emotionally. "You sure about this?" Dean asked, wanting to clear all the facts. Sam nodded. "Yeah," Sam replied, I saw."
"How's he pullin' it off?" Dean asked. He was sure Max had no demonic auras or bad spirits hanging around him. "I don't know," Sam replied, "It looked like telekinesis." Dean's eyebrows twitched together. "So he's psychic?" Dean asked, "He's a spoon-bender?"
"I didn't even realize it," Sam bit out, berating himself, "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 stared at his brother in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" he retorted, "The dude's nothing like you."
"Well," Sam replied, "We both have psychic abilities. We're both-" Dean cut his little brother off before he could take that train of thought any further. "Both what?" Dean asked impatiently, "Sam, Max is a monster. He's already killed two people, and now he's gunnin' for a third."
"Well," Sam replied, "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." Dean acknowledged his brother's reason. "Yeah," Dean retorted, "But it doesn't justify murdering your entire family." Sam glared at his brother. "Dean-" he started, only to have Dean cut him off.
"He's no different than anything else we've hunted," Dean replied, "Alright, we've gotta end him." He pulled over outside the Millers' house, turning the ignition off. Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "We're not gonna kill Max," Sam stated firmly. Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother's naivety. "Then what?" Dean asked, 'I hand him over to the cops and say, 'Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind'."
"Forget it," Sam told him, "No way man." This time Dean did roll his eyes. How could Sam not see the threat Max posed? "Sam-" Dean tried to reason with his brother, only to have Sam cut him off. "Dean," Sam told him firmly, "He's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."
Dean paused momentarily before sighing. "Alright," Dean replied, "Fine. But I'm not lettin' him hurt anybody else." Sam watched as Dean reached into the glove box, pulling out a gun. Checking his ammo, he stepped out of the car, tucking the weapon into the waistband of his jeans. Covering the handle with his jacket, Dean walked over to the Millers' door with Sam at his side.
Dean and Sam burst through the front door, surprising Max and Mrs Miller in the kitchen. "Fathers?" Mrs Miller exclaimed, glad to have someone there to distract Max from her. "What are you doing here?" Max asked, a little shaken to be almost caught with the knife. "Uh, sorry to interrupt," Dean told them, giving them a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Max," Sam began, "Could we, uh…could we talk to you outside for just one second?" Both brothers tried to display a comforting air, while hiding their relief that Mrs Miller was still alive. "About what?" Max asked.
"It's…It's private," Sam told him, "I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though. I promise." Max glanced to his stepmother, who gazed at him uncertainly. "Okay," Max finally agreed. Besides, Sam was actually nice to him, and he could just wait until the next time Spica left to do the shopping. "Great," Sam replied, giving Max a small smile.
Max walked over to join Sam and Dean, while Dean opened the front door. Max's eyes flicked over to the mirror in the hallway, where he caught sight of the gun's handle sticking out of Dean's jeans. Dean felt the door tug out of his grasp, slamming shut, along with all the windows around the house.
"You're not priests!" Max cried, staring opening at Sam and Dean. Turning to face the boy, Dean whipped the gun out of his pants, aiming at Max. Dean's eyes widened as the gun pulled away from his fingers, floating over to max before turning around and facing the two boys.
"Max," Mrs Miller cried out, "What's happening?" Max's eyes flickered over to her, but his main focus remained on the brothers. "Shut up!" he yelled at her. Mrs Miller's eyes took in the gun. "What are you doing?" she asked. Max's head jerked towards her, and Mrs Miller was suddenly lifted of her feet and thrust backwards, slamming against the kitchen counter before collapsing on the floor.
"I said shut up!" Max screamed, not even wincing as his stepmother's body fell limply to the ground. "Max," Sam started, "Calm down!" Max's eyes turned to Sam, glaring at him. "Who are you?" Max ordered. Sam and Dean shared a quick glance before Sam attempted to calm Max down. "We just wanna talk to you," Sam told the boy. Max glared at him sceptically. "Yeah," Max mocked, indicating the gun, "Right. That's why you brought this!"
"That was a mistake," Sam replied, "Alright? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max, okay? Just please…just hear me out." Max regarded Sam momentarily. Even though his brother had brought a gun in, Sam was still looking out for Max's best interests. "About what?" Max asked. Sam sighed internally, thankful that Max was willing to hear him out. "I saw you do it," Sam told him, "I saw you kill your dad, and your uncle before it happened."
"What?" Max asked. Whatever he'd been expecting Sam to say, this hadn't been anywhere near close. "I'm having visions Max," Sam told him, "About you." If he didn't have a gun pointed at him, Dean would've laughed. The conversation was slowly becoming worthy of a spot on the X-files. "You're crazy," Max told him. "So, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your step-mum?" Sam asked, pointing to his eye, "Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max? Look at what you can do. Max I was drawn here alright? I think I'm here to help you." Max and Dean both stared at him in disbelief. "No one can help me!" Max cried.
"Let me try," Sam pleaded, "We'll just talk. Me and You. We'll get Dean and Alice out of here." Hearing Sam's statement Dean felt the need to interject his own thoughts. "Nah-uh," Dean shook his head, "No way." Sam held up his index finger to silence his brother, when the light fixture above them began to shake violently. "Nobody leaves this house!" Max yelled. "And nobody has to," Sam soothed, "Alright? They'll just go upstairs." Dean shook his head. "Sam," he growled out, "I'm not leavin' you alone with him."
"Yes you are," Sam told his brother quietly but firmly before turning his attention back to Max, "Look Max, You're in charge here, alright? We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don't want to, but I'm talkin' five minutes here man." Dean couldn't believe his brother's trust.
"Sam," Dean began, when the sound of keys hitting the kitchen bench drew his attention. "Mrs Miller," a soft voice spoke, "Have you been cooking again? You know you shouldn't cook in your state. You always end up cutting yourself." Without even thinking, Max turned the gun towards the kitchen, firing off two shots.
Glancing towards the kitchen, Max's eyes grew wide. "Spica," he gasped when he saw who was standing in the kitchen. "Selene!" Sam and Dean cried as they saw one bullet rip through her stomach, while another bit into her chest. Her body bent into a graceful arch, before limply crumpling to the floor. A soft, porcelain wrist rested on the tiles, the only part of her body visible as the kitchenette hid her body from view, as the steadily growing puddle of blood crept ever closed to her fingertips.
"Don't move!" Max screamed at them, noticing that Dean was about to race into the kitchen. Dean shut his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. "Princess," he breathed out. He knew she'd been shot with his special silver bullets. What made it worse was that it was his gun that had fired them.
"Five minutes," Max sighed, not believing he'd just shot her, "Go!" Dean moved to the kitchen, shaking Mrs Miller into consciousness, while trying not to glance as Selene's lifeless form. Turning his face away from Selene's direction, he pulled Mrs Miller up, gently leading her up the stairs.
Max and Sam sat down in the living room, Sam positioned so he wouldn't be able to see Selene's body. "Look," Sam began, "I can't begin to understand what you went through." 'That's right," Max replied, eyes gazing at a letter opener, "You can't." Sam sighed, trying to be a gentle as he could. "Max," Sam replied, "This has to stop."
"It will," Max replied, "After my stepmother." Sam shook his head slightly, trying to reason with the boy. "No," he told Max firmly, "You need to let her go." Sam couldn't even bring himself to acknowledge Selene's death. It would make it real. "Why" Max asked as the letter opener stood itself on its tip and slowly began to spin. "Did she beat you?" Sam asked, trying to make the boy before him see reason. Max shook his head to that question. "No," he admitted, "But she never tried to save me. She's a part of it too." Sam nodded slowly. "Look," Sam reasoned, "What they did to you. What they all did to you growing up…they deserve to be punished."
"Growing up?" Max spat, "Try last week." Max stood, raising his shirt to expose a massive bruise and the multiple cuts marring his skin. "My dad still hit me," he continued, "Just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard, I guess." Max tugged his shirt back down, before sitting himself back down. "I'm sorry," Sam murmured, stunned by the evidence before him."When I first found out I could move things," Max replied, the letter opener spinning faster now, "It was a gift. 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." Sam thought for a moment before answering. "Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked. The letter opener suddenly fell, making Sam jump.
"It wasn't about getting away," Max replied, "Just knowing that they'd 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?" Sam shook his head. It was true, he couldn't even begin to conceive what it was like. "No," Sam replied softly.
He blamed me for everything," Max spat, "For his job, for his life, for my mom's death." Sam stared at Max. "Why would he blame you for your mum's death?" he asked. Max gazed back at Sam. "Because she died in my nursery," Max responded, "While I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault." Sam's eyes grew wide, when he heard that statement. "She died in your nursery?" Sam inquired.
"Yeah," Max informed him, "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." Sam's eyes widened even further. Now he knew why he felt so connected to this boy. "Listen to me Max," Sam told him firmly, "What your dad said about what happened to your mum. It's real." Max stared at Sam incredulously, not daring to believe him for a moment. "What?" Max asked.
"It happened to my mum, too," Sam explained, "Exactly the same-my nursery, my crib. My dad saw her on the ceiling." Max scoffed snidely at that remark. There was no way Sam had been through the same thing. "Then your dad must've been as drunk as mine," Max retorted. "No. No," Sam responded, "It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers." Max shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe Sam was trying a stunt like this. "That's not possible," Max responded."This must be why I've been having visions during the day," Sam exclaimed, "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?" Max nodded slowly. "How did you know that?" Max asked, slowly starting to believe."Because that's when my abilities started, Max," Sam explained, "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 stared at Sam for a moment, trying to understand what he was saying. "For what?" Max asked.
"I don't know," Sam replied, "But Dean and I…my brother and I, we're hunting for your mum's killer. And we can find answers. Answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go. You gotta let your stepmother go." Max shook his head, his thoughtful expression turning cold once more.
Max shook his head. "No," he spat, "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!" Standing up, Max started to walk towards the stairs.
Sam leapt up, blocking his path to the stairs. "No," Sam cried, "Don't you get it? 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." Max stared at him thoughtfully for a moment.
"I'm sorry," Max murmured, before using his powers to send Sam flying into a closet, slamming the door shut behind him. "No!" Sam cried as Max used his abilities to shift a large cupboard to block the closet door. Sam began to pound on the doors. "No, Max," he cried, "No! Max!" Max slowly stalked up the stairs towards his stepmother's room.
Another vision took hold of Sam as his fists pounded the doors. Sam watched helplessly as a bullet made its home in Dean's head. "No!" Sam screamed, he'd watched Selene die, he wouldn't let his brother join her, "No!" The cupboard suddenly thrust itself away from the closet. Confused, Sam pushed the closet door, only to have to swing open.
Max stood, the gun in the air pointing directly at his stepmother. "Max," Mrs Miller began, as Dean pushed himself of the ground, stepping forward. 'Damn,' Dean thought, 'That wall hurt.' He was really going to enjoy getting this kid for slamming him into the wall. "Stay back," Max told him, shifting the gun to aim at Dean, "It's not about you." Dean shifted slightly, trying to block Mrs Miller from view. "If you wanna kill her," Dean told him, "You gotta go through me first." Max pondered that statement momentarily before smiling coldly. "Okay," he shrugged. 'Shit,' Dean thought, 'Me and my big mouth.'
Sam suddenly burst through the bedroom door. "No," he cried, "Don't! 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." Max stared at him for a moment, before gaining enlightenment. "You're right," Max agreed, making Sam smile slightly. Dean's gun suddenly turned around, firing a shot into Max's head. "No!" Sam cried as Max's body fell to the floor.
Sam and Dean escorted Mrs Miller downstairs, away from Max's body. Dean still couldn't look in the direction of the kitchen without cringing. Sam walked over to the kitchen. He needed to see Selene's body to make it final. Crouching down beside her, his eyes widened. "Dean!" Sam called out, "She's still breathing!"
Dean leapt over the couch, racing to Selene's side. Turning her on to her back, Dean ripped her blouse off to see the bullet wounds. He sighed with relief when he saw that one bullet had left a long gash in her side, while the other had penetrated her shoulder, too high to hit anything vital.
Tearing her blouse into strips, Dean put together a make-shift bandage. He'd fix a proper one as soon as they got her back to the motel. Grabbing wet cloths, Sam and Dean began to gently scrub away the blood covering her body, hiding her features. Once she was clean, Dean pulled his jacket off, slipping her arms into the sleeves, zipping it up as high as it could go.
Standing up, Dean pulled the demon into his arms, holding her close. For his own comfort, or her warmth, Sam didn't know, and at that moment, he didn't care either. Both boys were just glad she was still clinging to life.
Dean sat down on the kitchen counter, continuing to warm her body while Sam moped up her blood. Hearing sirens, Dean turned to Sam. "I'll take her to the car," Dean told his brother, "You'll be okay with the cops?" Sam nodded, knowing that someone would need to stay with Selene. "I'll be fine," Sam replied, "Just make sure she stays warm."
Sam waited with Mrs Miller while the police asked questions about what had happened. Mrs Miller was hysterical, but still gave them as accurate a recount as she could. Mrs Miller smiled faintly at Sam, as she explained that the brothers were family friends who had fought Max for the gun.
"If I just said somethin' else," Sam muttered as he jumped in the car, 'Gotten through to him somehow." Dean glanced up from Selene's unconscious form to gaze at his brother. "Don't do that," Dean told him, still holding the demon close. Sam stared at his brother. "Do what?" Sam asked. Dean flicked his gaze down to Selene before focusing on his brother once more. "Torture yourself," Dean replied, "It wouldn't have mattered what you said. Max was too far gone."
"When I think about how he looked at me, man," Sam told him, "Right before…should've done something." Dean's hands gently rubbed Selene's shoulders, trying to warm her up. "Come on man," Dean responded, "You risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier." Dean turned his gaze back to her still form. "Well," Sam sighed, "I'll tell you one thing…We're lucky we had Dad." Dean turned to his brother in shock. "I never thought I'd hear you say that," Dean remarked.
"Well," Sam replied, "He could've gone a whole 'nother way after Mum. 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." Dean paused for a moment, taking in what his brother had just said. "All things considered," Dean agreed, "Now let's get back to that motel. I wanna patch Selene up properly."
Sam watched from the door as Dean pulled the First Aid Kit over to his bed. Removing his make-shift bandages, Dean set to work applying real ones. Finally finishing, Dean covered her body with a blanket, before gently removing her clothes, careful not to bump her wounds. Replacing her clothes with a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt, Dean slipped her under the covers of his bed. He knew he'd done all he could for her, now it was up to her own strength and will power to survive.
Sam slid into his own bed. He'd stood back to let Dean handle the First Aid side of things, firstly because Dean was better at it then he was, and secondly, because he knew Dean wanted to fix it. He felt responsible for her wounds, especially considering his gun had been the one to fire the bullets.
Dean settled himself into a chair beside his bed, wrapped in a spare blanket, his hand under the covers of his bed, clasping the demon's cold fingers with his warm ones. He watched her late into the night, monitoring her as the night wore on. It wasn't until the grey hours of dawn that his tired body slowly fell asleep.
Selene's eyes fluttered open as the first rays of sunlight kissed the skies. Selene groaned softly, feeling as if she'd been run over by a truck. A sense of warmth enveloped her, and she felt something grasping her hand. Glancing over, Selene saw Dean's huddled form beside her bed, his arm buried under her covers. Turning slightly to face him, she let her eyes close once more, welcoming the overwhelming blackness of sleep.
Sam woke up a few hours later to see Dean gently stroking her face. "I'm sorry Princess," Dean murmured softly, "I'm the reason you got hurt. I should've listened to Sam. If I had, that gun wouldn't have even been in that house." Not for the first time, Sam began to wonder if his brother felt something more then friendship towards the little demon.
Dean left to have a shower, not noticing Selene's bright violet eyes opening. "He missed you, you know," Sam commented, walking over with a glass of water. Taking over Dean's vacated chair, he helped Selene sit up. Holding the glass to her mouth, Sam gave her little sips.
"This isn't the first time he's patched you up either," Sam continued, "He spent all day running around, trying to solve this case before I had another premonition, then spent all night watching over you. I don't know how he does it.
"He didn't mean what he said. He and Cassie just had some unfinished emotions that he needed to tie the ends off. He needed closure. He was stressed out and working himself to hard, even though he wouldn't admit it, and you were the next one to set him off.
"He didn't want you to leave. He's just not the best at expressing himself. I guess it comes with the job description, and Cassie wouldn't have helped, but Dean tries to distance himself. Tries to be above emotional vulnerability. I guess that's just his way of protecting himself from heartbreak. He does care for you Selene, even if he is too dense to show it."
Sam helped Selene finish her water before setting the glass down. Sam shuffled her back under the covers. "You'd best try to sleep now," Sam told her, "We're moving on tonight, and Dean'll kick my ass if you don't get enough rest."
"So what about my bike?" Selene asked that night, while Sam and Dean started to pack. Dean stopped to stare at her. "That was your bike?" Dean asked. Sam started snickering softly as he remembered everything Dean had said he wanted to do to the bike's owner. "Guess you'll just have to sell it," Dean told her, "'Cause you're definitely not riding it in this condition." Sam smiled slyly at his brother's protectiveness of Selene's health.
"Dean," Sam interjected before they could start a fight, "I've been thinking." Dean shook his head. "Well," he replied, "That's never a good thing." Sam gave his brother a withering glare. "I'm serious," Sam told him, "I've been thinking…why would this demon, or whatever it is, why would it kill Mum and Jessica and Max's mother, you know, what does it want?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "No idea," he answered, still packing his gear away. "Well," Sam asked, "You think maybe it was after us? After Max and me?" Dean glanced at his brother. "Why would you think that?" Dean asked, pushing Selene gently back against the pillow as she tried to stand up.
"I mean," Sam explained, "Either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason." Selene tried to stand again, only to have Dean push her back down. "Sam," Dean reasoned, "If it wanted you, it would've just taken you okay? This is not your fault. It's not about you." Sam stared at his brother. "Then what is it about?" he asked.
"It's about that damn thing that did this to our family," Dean replied, "The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all." Sam shifted nervously on his feet. "Actually," Sam stammered out, "There's, uh, somethin' else, too." Dean had stopped pushing Selene, and was now just pressing her good shoulder down, keeping her from standing. "Oh, jeez," Dean sighed, "What?""When Max locked me in that closet," Sam told him, "That big cabinet against the door…I moved it." Dean began to laugh, impressed with his little brother. "You've got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for," Dean replied, while Selene stared to wriggle under his grasp, "And would you stop moving. You're not getting up and that's final."
Sam watched their exchange with interest. "No man," Sam re-iterated, "I moved it, like Max." Dean's eyes widened, making him release his grip on Selene. She was almost out of bed when Dean realised and pushed her back down. "Oh," Dean blinked, "Right." Sam nodded. "Yeah," Sam replied.
Noticing a spoon within his grasp, Dean grabbed it, not letting up on the pressure on Selene's shoulder. "Bend this," Dean told his brother, proudly holding the spoon up. Sam sighed at his brother's antics. "I can't turn it on and off Dean," Sam replied, rolling his eyes for good measure. "Well," Dean asked, "How'd you do it?"
"I don't know," Sam sighed, "I can't control it. I saw you die, and it just came out of me, like a punch. You know, like a freak adrenaline thing." Dean placed the spoon down, defeatedly. "Well," Dean replied shrugging his shoulders, "I'm sure it won't happen again."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "Maybe. Aren't you worried, man, aren't you worried that I could turn into Max or something?" Dean shrugged at his brother, why would he worry, he knew Sam. "Nope," Dean responded immediately, "No way. You know why?" Sam sighed. "No," Sam replied, "Why?"
"'Cause you've got one advantage that Max didn't have," Dean replied confidently. Sam stared unsurely at his brother, not knowing where he was taking this. "Dad?" Sam asked, "Because Dad's not here Dean."
Dean shook his head. "No," He replied, "Me." Dean smiled as he began to wrap Selene up in a blanket so tightly that she couldn't move, before lifting her up into his arms. "Damn it Dean," Selene cried, "I can walk you know." Dean smirked at her infuriatingly. "Nothin' doin' Princess," he replied, smiling as he turned to his brother, "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Now then, I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."
"Where?" Sam asked, as he fought the urge to laugh at his brother, with an armful of squirming blanket. "Vegas," Dean replied, like it was the most obvious thing. Sam scoffed, grabbing the bags on his way out to the car. "What?" Dean hollered after him, "Come on, man. Craps table. We'd clean up." Smiling, Dean grabbed his own duffle bag, still not putting Selene down, and switched the light off, closing the door behind him.
Okay, just for all of you who love the background info...Spica is actually a star. It's one tiny star in a constellation. (that info will come in handy later)
If you love this story or hate it...please let me know and press the review button. I would love to hear from you so go ahead and tell me what you think.
May your thoughts and creativity flow,
Lady Ami DragonHeart