The next day, Impala, 12:34PM.

Honestly, this had been nothing but awkward since it started. Sam and Dean had sat in the car, saying nothing more to each other than what was necessary, talking about Jericho, the job we were taking, dad. Not once had Dean asked Sam about college, his girlfriend, his life. Not once had Sam asked about us, about hunting, about what we'd been doing the past four years. And not once had I made any attempt to change that. I couldn't be bothered, I didn't understand why, after all this time, all these years, all the calls Sam had ignored, not missed- calls that he had seen and chosen not to answer, why the hell should I make yet another attempt to talk. So I sat in the backseat of the car, headphones in and pretending like I couldn't hear the conversation they were having. About me. It wasn't until I noticed Dean glance over his shoulder at me, obviously making sure that I was oblivious to what was being said, that I turned down the volume on my music and decided to pay attention. "..and it doesn't help that you keep staring at her like you do. You're looking at her like you're looking at a ghost." Dean was saying, I hadn't even noticed. Then again, I had been doing anything I could to avoid looking Sam in the face.

"I don't know, Dean. She just seems, different." So Sam had noticed, crap. But I trusted Dean not to say anything, he'd promised he wouldn't. "I don't get it. I mean, have I done something to her?"

I almost scoffed, he was supposed to be the smart one in the car. "Well, it is four years since you've seen her, Sam." Dean answered, he didn't sound mad, his voice was emotionless. "She's grown up a lot since then, she's not just some carefree teenager, she's twenty-two now. I mean, you telling me you haven't changed at all since you've been away?" I watched Sam open and close his mouth a couple of times, he didn't have an answer. Before any of us had a chance to say anything else, Dean pulled over the car. I glanced out of the window at the store to the side of the gas pumps he'd stopped at. I pulled out my headphones and climbed out of the car, stretching my aching muscles. "You alright?" Dean pressed gently, looking over me slowly.

"For the millionth time, Dean, I'm awesome." I muttered, that seemed to be the only thing he ever asked me anymore.

"I know you are, you get that from me." He said lightly, obviously picking up that his constant supervision was getting a little annoying. "I suppose you want something nutritious for breakfast?" He said, an eyebrow raised at me.

"Of course." I smirked. "Something covered in chocolate, I don't really care what."

"Sure." He grinned, heading into the store with a smirk.

I watched him walk away, turning to look at Sam. He was sitting in the passenger seat, the door open and his feet on the ground outside the car. What upset me even more than the fact he'd ignored me, was the fact that he didn't even understand how much that had hurt me. It had killed every time I knew he didn't want to answer the phone, that he didn't want to talk to me. I mean, I understood why he was mad, why he might have needed a couple of weeks away before he could call, but four years? That hurt. And he didn't even realise. "Hey, Max?" He called over to me, sounding unsure that I was going to answer him.

I looked over at him slowly, remaining at the other side of the car. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" I knew this had been coming, the excuses, the lame ass apology.

I sighed and looked up at him, stopping as my phone rang from my back pocket. I looked down at the caller ID, Bobby. "Hold that thought," I muttered. "I gotta take this."

Sam's P.O.V.

I looked up as Dean headed towards me, his hands full of junk food. I was now sitting with Dean's box of tapes in my lap, looking through them with a small smile, he never changed. "Hey," Dean called over to me, holding up the food. "-you want breakfast?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, thanks." Dean shrugged and walked around the car. "So how'd you pay for that stuff? You three still running credit card scams?"

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career." Dean answered as he took a seat in the car, placing the food down between us. "Besides, all we do is apply. It's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?"

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal." Dean actually sounded proud of himself at that.

"That sounds about right." I glanced over at where Max was standing a few feet away from us, still talking on the phone, sighing slightly. "How long is she gonna stay pissed at me?"

Dean shrugged lightly. "C'mon, you can't really blame her, Sam." He said quietly. "You really hurt her."

"I know, and I don't blame her, I just.." I trailed off, looking away from him.

"She'll be alright with you tomorrow, you'll see." Dean looked over at her too, then down at his watch. "I'll tell you one thing that hasn't changed about her, she still doesn't shut up." Dean smiled, there was a hint of fondness in it, I could see more than ever, they really were like best friends now. Dean climbed out of the car and made his way over to her, his hands in his pockets. He watched her talk on the phone for a minute or so before she handed it to him, whoever it was having a quick talk with Dean before they hung up.

I sighed to myself as I watched them, feeling a pang of jealousy in my chest. I watched as Dean threw an arm around Max's neck from behind, holding her in a headlock and ruffling her hair. I watched as Max laughed and elbowed Dean in the stomach, turning to face him and shoving him in the shoulder with a smirk, calling him some silly insult which had him smirking harder and rolling his eyes at her. It was only now, watching them, that I realised how much I'd missed out on since I'd left. I'd never wanted to cut them out of my life, or to make them feel as though I hadn't wanted to be with them, I didn't know how that had happened. I knew if I could go back, I'd have answered everyone of Max's phone calls, or I'd have called Dean and tried to explain that it hadn't been anything to do with him when I'd gone. But it was too late to go back and change things, I'd made this mess, it was my fault that things had ended up like they had.

Dean climbed into the drivers seat again, Max sitting behind him. "I swear, man, you've gotta update your cassette tape collection." I said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Dean frowned slightly. "Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two.. Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" I held up a different tape for every band I mentioned, Dean grabbing the third and slotting the tape into the player. "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock."

"Well, house rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." He said brightly as he tossed the tape box back onto the pile and started the car.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?"

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud." He said over the music, pulling out of the gas station and heading off down the road.

I didn't care what they said, something was going on. They were both tense, especially Max, like they had something going on that they didn't want me to know about. It was like when were teenager and they were in a fight, when dad came home they'd pretend everything was fine but he could always see the tension between them a mile off. I knew something was going on, but I wasn't sure what. It didn't seem like they'd been fighting, they seemed to be getting along better than ever. Max was different too, and it wasn't just that she'd grown up. Under her smile and front that she seemed to have had up since I'd arrived, she seemed defeated. I'd noticed their hushed conversations about something, and if Dean was taking the time to argue with her about it at any opportunity he could find, I was guessing it was important.

Max's P.O.V.

I glanced out of the window and sighed as we passed the 'JERICHO 7' sign, closing my eyes and going back to listening to Sam talk on the phone. He finished his conversation that I hadn't really been paying attention to and closed his phone. "All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue." Sam said lightly. "So that's something, I guess."

"Check it out." I opened my eyes again at Dean's voice and followed his gaze to the bridge ahead of us. Dean pulled over the car as we got close enough, the three of us taking a long look out of the window before Dean turned off the engine. There were police scattered about over the bridge, surrounding the car parked in the center. Dean opened the glove compartment and pulled out a box, opening it on his lap and looking through the dozens of ID cards with he and my faces on them. He pulled out a couple of them, holding one over his shoulder to me, before grinning over at Sam. "Let's go." He said lightly. Sam stared at him for another couple of seconds before climbing out of the car and following Dean towards the police, me beside him. "You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" Dean said to one of the officers casually as we walked towards them.

The officer looked up as Dean spoke, raising his eyebrows. "And who are you?"

Dean and I flashed our badges at him. "Federal marshals." I smiled.

He looked between the three of us skeptically. "You three are a little young for marshals, aren't you?

Dean laughed. "Thanks, that's awfully kind of you." He answered. "You did have another one just like this, correct?" He asked again as he moved closer to the car.

"Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that."

"So, this victim, you knew him?" Sam asked lightly, watching Dean as he looked into the car.

The officer nodded at him. "Town like this, everybody knows everybody."

I watched as Dean circled the car, looking around slowly and apparently not seeing anything to interest him. "Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?" I asked.

"No. Not so far as we can tell."

"So, what's the theory?" Sam pressed curiously.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?"

"Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys." Dean said.

I covered the small laugh that escaped me with a cough, while Sam stamped on Dean's foot with his. "Thank you for your time." He muttered, forcing a smile. "Gentlemen." The three of us turned to walk away, Dean in the middle. He looked over his shoulder before reaching up and smacking Sam in the back of the head. "Ow." He complained. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?" Dean argued.

"Why do you have to talk to the police like that?"

Dean stepped in front of Sam, stopping him from walking any further. "Come on. They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone on this. I mean, if we're going to find Dad we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves." Sam and I cleared our throats at the same time, nodding to the space behind Dean where the Sheriff and two FBI agents were now standing.

"Can I help you three?" He asked, looking between us.

"No sir, we were just leaving." Dean answered, nodding at the agents as they passed. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully." I smiled at that, following Dean back to the car.

"Now what?" I asked.

"I dunno, maybe talk to the guys girlfriend?" Sam suggested. "I heard them talking about her before we got there."

"Sounds like a plan." Dean agreed, climbing into the Impala.

Jericho Bridge, California. 11:41AM.

That night, we headed back to the bridge we'd been on earlier that day. We'd spoken to the missing guy's girlfriend, we'd done research, yet we still had no clue what was going on. I sighed lightly in the cool air as I followed Sam and Dean further up the bridge, this whole hunt bothered me. None of it made sense. If dad was here, we should've run into him by now, the town was small, not that many places he could be. Honestly, I didn't think he was here. "So this is where Constance took the swan dive." I looked up at Dean's voice, seeing him peering over the edge of the railing where the 'ghost hitchhiker' or whatever was going on, was said to have jumped.

"So you think dad would have been here?" Sam asked, looking over at Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." Dean muttered as he continued walking up the bridge, Sam following him. I sighed and dragged my feet after them, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket as I tried to focus on something other than the freezing night air.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam pressed, he was getting impatient and we both knew it.

"Now, we keep digging until we find him, might take a while."

Sam stopped walking at that. "Dean, I told you, I've gotta be back by Monday-"

Dean turned around to face him. "Monday. Right, the interview." He smirked slightly. "Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" This was heading towards an argument, Dean was finally saying what he'd been holding in since we'd left Stanford.

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "-why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

Sam took a step closer to him. "No, and she's not ever going to know."

"Well, that's healthy." I muttered under my breath.

I don't even think Dean heard me, the two of them usually forgot I existed when they got into their little arguments. Sam turned to reply, stopping as Dean spoke up again. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are." He said lightly as he turned and carried on walking again, Sam following him.

"And who's that?"

"You're one of us."

Sam walked faster to get ahead of Dean, he was ready for an argument now, I could see it in his face. "No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."

"You have a responsibility to-"

"To dad?" Sam cut him off. "-and his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

I saw the anger rise in Dean's face at that. Sam should've known better than to mention mom to him, especially in that way. Stuff like that made Dean see red. He grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the railings of the bridge with a thud, staring him straight in the face. "Don't talk about her like that." He warned, pushing himself off Sam and heading back towards me. He stopped suddenly, staring off somewhere behind me. "Guys." He said, never moving his eyes. I stopped for a second, turning around and seeing what he meant. A pretty, dark-haired girl in a white dress stood on the edge of the bridge. She glanced over at us for a moment before stepping over the edge. The three of us ran to the railings, looking over and seeing nothing. "Where'd she go?" Dean asked.

"I don't know." We all turned at the sound of the Impala's engine starting, the headlights shining over us brightly.

"What the-" Dean began.

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked.

Dean pulled the keys from his pocket and held them up, waving them a little. I jumped as the car started, driving right at us. Instinct took over, the only thing we could do, turn and run. "Go, go!" I heard Sam yell, like we were going to do anything else. I could see the light becoming brighter and brighter on the road ahead of us, no matter how fast the three of us were, we were kidding ourselves if we thought we had a chance outrunning a car. I looked to my left where Sam and Dean were apparently thinking the same thing as me. We all ran towards the edge of the bridge, grabbing a hold of the railings before throwing ourselves over the edge. I heard the engine on Dean's car stop, everything completely silent for a moment. For a second I thought my arms were going to rip from my shoulders as I hit the side of the bridge, getting a harder grip on the railing and trying to ignore the fact that I was holding on for my life here, the sickening thought that there was nothing beneath me except a very, very long drop. And Dean. I looked around, seeing Sam holding onto the railing beside me, no sign of Dean. Sam seemed to notice too, looking down. "Dean?! Dean!" He yelled, I looked around frantically, finally seeing him crawl out of the muddy water, collapsing on his back.

"What?!" He yelled back, sounding more than annoyed than hurt.

"Hey, are you okay?!" I yelled.

Dean held up an A-OK sign before dropping his arm back to his side tiredly. "I'm super." He muttered. I laughed in relief and pulled myself up, pushing myself back up onto the bridge and rolling my shoulders slowly with a groan.

Sam walked up beside me, looking around slowly. "Max, why do you do this?"

I paused for a second, not sure what he meant. "Why do I do what?"

"Hunt." Here we go. I knew this was coming, from the second we left stanford I knew this speech was coming. "Why do you do it?"

I shrugged, honestly I'd never really put much thought into it. "Why not?" I countered.

"Max-"

"Sam, we can't all be straight A students, we can't all just bail and run away to college whenever we decide that we've had enough."

"That's not what I meant." He said calmly.

"Right, 'cause running away is what you're good at. I'm good at hunting, that's why I do it."

"Max, you got something to say to me?" He asked, his tone becoming defensive. "I mean, am I supposed to have done something to you?"

I scoffed at that comment. "You really have to ask?"

"Yeah, I do, because I remember one of the last things you saying to me the night I left, was that you weren't mad. Hell, Max, you encouraged me to go."

"Maybe, but you know what I remember you saying to me? I'm not leaving you, I promise to stay in touch."

"Max, listen-"

"I don't wanna hear it Sam. You left, you didn't call, I'm sure you had a reason. Hell, knowing you, you probably had ten. But I'm done with it okay, we're done." I shook my head, turning at the sound of footsteps behind me. "You're alive." I said lightly as Dean walked towards us. He was covered in, I don't know what he was covered in, I didn't want to know.

"Looks like." He said flatly.

I smirked at him. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. That uh, means a lot, really."

I grinned and took a step towards him, smacking him in the arm. "Dude, you idiot. Why the hell didn't you grab onto something?"

"Now come on, Maxie, where's the fun in that?"

"Do you at least remember what you were doing the day they were passing out common sense?"

Dean rolled his eyes at me. "You wish you had my brains." I didn't answer as I followed him where he was heading towards the Impala. He wasted no time in opening the hood, inspecting it closely.

"Your car all right?" Sam asked after a few minutes. Dean nodded and closed the hood, finally satisfied that there was no damage done.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems alright now." He shook his head and leaned against the edge of the Impala. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!" He yelled.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job go from here, genius?" Sam asked. Dean threw his arms up in frustration, then flicked the mud from his hands. Sam sniffed, then looked over to Dean. "You smell like a toilet."

Motel, 01:27AM.

We headed straight from the bridge to a motel, heading into the reception room casually, smiling at the guy behind the desk like one of us wasn't covered head to toe in mud. Dean dropped a credit card down onto the book infront of him and looked up at the guy. "One room, please?"

They clerk looked the three of us up and down slowly, narrowing his eyes at the card. "You guys having a reunion or something?" He questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month." Dean looked back at me and Sam.

"And which room was that again?" I asked him with a smile.

"Uh," He glanced down at his book and frowned. "-room twelve."

"Thanks." I muttered as we turned and left the room, heading towards dad's room. Dean and I stood outside while Sam picked the lock. This whole thing terrified me, I was literally holding my breath, scared of what we might find in there. I prayed to god that it'd be dad, instinct telling me otherwise. When did we ever get so lucky? I heard the lock eventually click behind us, turning and following Sam into the room. He reached past me and grabbed Dean by the shoulder, pulling him inside with us and closing the door over. I looked around the room slowly, everything in the room seemed to have some sort of papers or research covering it. There were books scattered around the room, papers and junk everywhere.

"Whoa." Sam said quietly, walking further into the room. Dean flipped on the light by the bed and picked up a half eaten burger, sniffing it and recoiling quickly. I remained still as I watched Sam step over a line of salt on the floor.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least." Dean commented. Sam bent down and touched the salt on the floor, looking up at us.

"Salt, cats-eye shells...he was worried. Trying to keep something from coming in." That didn't sound like him. Our dad didn't fear the supernatural, the supernatural feared our dad.

I looked up at the wall, narrowing my eyes at the research. Nothing made sense here. "What have you got there?" Sam asked, coming up behind me.

"Centennial Highway victims." I said quietly, looking between the different victims.

Dean stepped forwards too, looking over the wall with us. "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs-" I heard Sam move away from us. "-ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Sam flicked on another lamp behind us. "Dad figured it out."

We both turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

Dean looked back to the photos of Constance's victims. "You sly dogs." He remarked, turning back to Sam. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness."

"Well, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell. If I were Dad, though, I'd go ask her husband." He said, tapping the picture of her husband on the news article we'd seen earlier in the library. "If he's still alive."

"Alright. Why don't you two, uh, see if you can find an address, I'm gonna get cleaned up." He muttered as he turned towards the bathroom.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam called out to stop him. Dean stopped and turned back. "What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry."

Dean held up a hand to stop him. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam laughed and nodded. "All right. Jerk."

"Bitch."

I couldn't help but find myself smiling slightly at that. I'd missed the way they used to get along, the way they'd laugh and joke around, one of the few things that we did that was like a normal family. I turned my back to Sam as I heard Dean close the bathroom door, I knew what was about to come. We were both silent for a few minutes, Sam being the first to break it. "Max, please, just listen to me for a minute."

I shook my head. I couldn't face having this argument with him, not now. "I told you, I don't want to have this conversation." I muttered, turning to face him. "Look, let's just get through this weekend and you can go right back to your perfect little life, pretending like we don't exist."

"Oh come on, it was never like that and you it."

"Oh really? Because I'm pretty sure that it was."

Sam sighed. "Why are you being like this?"

"Why am I being like this?" I repeated slowly. "What, why am I ignoring you? Gee, I don't know, Sam, what possible reason could anyone have for ignoring their sibling? Because I can't think of one."

"I wasn't ignoring you, I-"

"You were damn too ignoring us. When you picked up your phone, and chose not to answer it, that's called ignoring someone, Sam. And when you do that for four years, that's called cutting your family out of your life." I was getting angry now, four years of frustration coming out at once.

"Four years? I may not have called you, but it's a two-way street, Max. I don't remember the last time you tried calling me either."

"Are you kidding me? I called you every night for weeks, you never picked up. Four years, Sam, and I didn't hear from you once."

He stopped at that, looking down sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry? Well, that's just- that's just great, really." I shook my head and breathed out a small laugh. ''You know what, just forget it.''

I shook my head and dropped down onto the bed, rubbing my eyes. I was exhausted, I hadn't slept in almost three days, and it was beginning to kick in. I yawned quietly and closed my eyes for a minute, trying to relax. I didn't even realise when I fell asleep.

Motel room, 10:29AM.

I blinked open my eyes as Dean headed out of the bathroom, giving me a small smile. "You okay?" He asked lightly. "Don't think I've ever known you sleep so long."

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself to sit up in bed, pushing the covers that either Sam or Dean had draped over me off and getting to my feet. I headed to the bathroom, realising that I was being closely followed by Dean. He closed the door behind himself, looking down at me. "Don't even start with me, Dean." I muttered, splashing some cold water over my face.

He pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket and took out two of them, placing them into my hand with a glare. "No more arguments, you're taking them."

"Dean-"

"Look, you can either take them now, or we can go out there and have this chat in front of Sam. It's up to you."

"Dean, I don't need them. You think that I do because some d-bag doctor put some stupid ideas into your head. I say I don't, and since when do you take the word of anyone over mine?"

"I don't, I never do. But on this occasion, I think I'll go with the doctor."

"Alright, fine, you win." I muttered, taking the pills. Dean nodded slowly and turned to leave the bathroom. The second he closed the door behind himself, I spat them out into the sink, rinsing them away with the tap. I looked up at myself in the mirror, shaking my head slowly. I hated them, they made me feel depressed, and crappy, and exhausted. They didn't work, whether Dean thought I needed them or not. I wasn't taking them.

I left the bathroom a few minutes later to find Sam sitting on the end of the bed, looking to be checking his voicemail, while Dean sat at the table, uninterestedly looking over some of dad's research. He picked up his jacket and crossed the room. "I'm starving, gonna grab some food at that diner down the street, Max, you coming?"

I looked up at him, Sam had obviously heard us arguing from the bathroom, which meant the second one of us was alone with him, we were in for a game of twenty questions. "Yeah, sure." I answered,picking up my own jacket and following him towards the door.

"Sam? You want anything?" Dean asked before we left.

Sam shook his head at him. "No."

"You sure?" He grinned and waved his fake credit card. "Aframian's buying." He coaxed.

Sam simply shook his head again. "Alright." He muttered in defeat. "Let's go." Dean pulled on his jacket as we left the motel room and walked out onto the parking lot. I looked up at him as he nudged me in the arm, following his eyes to where the motel owner we'd checked in with was talking to a couple of police officers from the earlier on the bridge. The motel owner looked over and pointed at us, Dean turning away and pulling out his phone, I assumed to call Sam. "Dude, five-oh, take off." He said quickly, waiting for a response. "Uh, they kinda spotted us, go find dad." He finished and hung up the phone, shoving it into his pocket as he turned to face the two officers in front of us. I rolled my eyes as he grinned at them, looking between them innocently. "Problem officers?"

"Where's your partner?"

"Partner? What, what partner?"

One of the officers glanced over his shoulder before pointing towards the motel room, indicating for his partner to head over there. Dean looked down at me for a second, visibly fidgeting. "So, fake US Marshals? Fake credit cards. You got anything that is real?"

"My boobs." Dean said with a grin. I couldn't help but laugh at that, he was just so stupid sometimes it was funny. Literally within three seconds of that comment, we were both faced down against the hood of the police car being told that we had the right to remain silent.

One hour later, Jericho police station.

This was seriously getting ridiculous. Not only had they left us sitting in the back of separate police cars for ten minutes, they'd then taken twenty minutes to get us to the police station and then left me sitting alone while they took Dean wherever they took him. By the time I'd been brought in, booked, had my fingerprints and mug shot taken, I was ready to kill the next person that looked at me wrong. The sheriff appeared in the doorway of the room I was being kept in, looking over at the deputy watching me. "Bring her in." He said casually. I sighed and followed his lead towards the room, finding Dean sitting at the table, looking bored. "We've got a couple of questions for you." The sheriff said simply, the hint of a smug smirk on his face.

I glanced over my shoulder at Dean who was glaring at the sheriff. "Fine." I muttered, not seeing what could be so hard we couldn't lie our way out of it.

"Okay, how about we start with something easy?" He smiled. "What's this guys name?"

Crap. We were screwed. I noticed the second he'd asked me that, Dean had begun tapping out some rhythm on the table. "Uh, what kind of question is that?" I asked incredulously, trying to buy a few more seconds as I listened intently to Dean. I smirked to myself as I recognised the song. "His name's Ted Nugent."

He looked pissed off at that. "Sit down."

I took a seat beside Dean and looked between them. "I'm not sure the two of you realize just how much trouble you're in here." The sheriff said seriously.

"We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall." Dean looked away for a second. "Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you and your girlfriend here are officially suspects."

"That makes sense. Because when the first one went missing in '82 I was three. And my sister here, wasn't even born yet."

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing.. So tell me. Dean, Max," The sheriff tossed a brown journal to the table in front of us, the bang making us both jump a little. "-this his?" We both stared at it, lost for words. I didn't move as the Sheriff opened it, flipping through the pages towards the back. "I thought those might be your names, you see, I leafed through this, what little I could make out- I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy." Dean leaned forward for a closer look. "But I found this, too." He opened the journal to a certain page, a sheet of paper there reading; 'Dean, Max, 35-111'. Dean and I looked between each other, he looked lost, confused, afraid, the same way I assumed I looked. "Now, you're both going to sit there until one of you tells me exactly what the hell that means." Dean sat back in his chair, looking up at him cluelessly, like he had no idea what he was talking about.

Sure enough, after having an argument with Dean, the sheriff had given up asking the same question over and over again. The three of us then sat there for what felt like forever without any of us speaking, the sheriff staring at us impatiently. The awkward, tense silence was eventually broken by a soft knocking at the door. A young officer stuck his head around the door, looking from us to the Sheriff. "Sheriff, can we borrow you for a few minutes."

He sighed and looked back to us. "You better come up with a good story, or so help me god, I'll lock you both up until you do." He threatened, getting to his feet and crossing the room.

Dean released a long sigh as the door slammed closed. "Well, he sure ain't coming back for a while." He muttered.

"Dean, what the hell?" I said slowly, my eyes fixed on the book in front of us.

He reached forwards and pulled the journal a little closer, flicking through a couple of pages at random. "I dunno, Maxie. It's not like him to leave this anywhere."

"Dean, I think you were right. I think he's in trouble. I mean, I'm really worried about him."

"I know, me too. But let's just work on getting out of here, and then we'll find him, alright? Trust me."

"Yeah, I know we will." I watched him for a few minutes, there was a small, concentrated frown on his face. "What are you thinking so hard about?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"Huh?" He seemed to snap out of his thoughts, leaning back in his chair. "I was just thinking," He began slowly, still sounding in deep thought. "-sometimes, I think maybe I should've told you that you could've gone too, ya know?"

I frowned in confusion. "Gone where?"

"To college, like Sam. I mean, he always knew that he wanted something more than this life.. I never let you believe that you could too."

"Dean, I don't know if it escaped your notice but I wasn't exactly the same kind of student as Sam. I didn't exactly have the right grades to get a full ride to college."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

I paused and frowned. "Uh, mine?"

"I was in charge of you, Max. I let you bunk off when you couldn't be bothered or you hadn't done your homework. I never told dad when you got suspended.. I could have pushed you to work."

I looked up at him sadly, he always blamed himself for everything, anything that wasn't his fault, he still put it on himself. "You could have.. But think of all the fun times we'd have missed out on if I'd have always been in school."

He rolled his eyes. "Like what?"

"Like getting suspended together so we could sit and watch bad movies til Sam came back or, I dunno, remember that time we stole that car from the motel and just spent the day driving around different burger stores." Dean smiled to himself as he thought back, we really were idiots sometimes. "School was never my thing Dean. Just like it wasn't yours."

"I know. It just winds me up sometimes that you could have done anything.. Instead you're stuck driving around with me."

"Ah, don't sell yourself short, Dean. You're not a bad person to road trip with." I smirked at him.

"Thanks." He muttered. "Hey, speaking of Sam, you ever gonna forgive him?"

I thought about it for a second and nodded slowly. "Course I am, I just, I don't know-"

He opened his mouth to answer, stopping himself as the sheriff returned to the room. "I want an answer, and I want one now." He said impatiently.

"I don't know how many times I gotta tell you. It's my high school locker combo." Dean said, his voice remaining upbeat, despite how pissed off he was clearly becoming.

"We gonna do this all night long?" He stopped and looked over towards the door as the same officer as before leaned into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road." He said quickly.

The sheriff sighed and looked between us. "Either of you have to go to the bathroom?"

"No." We both answered at the same time.

"Good." He pulled out some handcuffs and cuffed us both to the table before leaving us there.

I watched as Dean reached out and pulled a paperclip from dad's journal, looking at it for a second before smirking at me. Within a couple of minutes he'd managed to pick the locks on both of our wrists. "Let's get out of here." He said quietly, grabbing dad's journal from the table before looking out of the glass window in the door, ducking aside as someone passed. We waited a few minutes behind the door before we were sure the office was completely clear, and then ducked out of the room, running towards the fire escape. By the time we got outside, it was dark outside, the air becoming cooler and the sky turning a dark grey. Dean ran out ahead, pausing at the top of the ladder heading down to the road. "You got this?" He asked, looking back over his shoulder at me before he made a move.

"Yeah, go." I said, breathing out in the cold air, following him down the ladder. "Dean, we need to find Sam." I said as we walked casually out onto the street.

"Right." He muttered, looking around slowly. Neither of us had phones, they'd been confiscated at the police station and we hadn't bothered to steal them back. He nodded over the road, indicating a phone booth. I followed him, standing in the doorway while he dialed Sam's number. "Hey, have a look through that, see if dad left anything else." He said while he waited for Sam to answer, holding out dad's journal to me.

"Sure." I took it from him and opened it on the page with the coordinates on it, frowning slightly. I knew as well as Dean did, dad never went anywhere without it, so there must've been a pretty serious reason for him to just up and bail town without taking it with him.

"Fake 911 call, I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal." Dean said down the phone, his tone light, covering up how concerned I knew he really was. "Listen, we gotta talk." He paused while Sam spoke for a few seconds. "Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Pause. "Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you, he's gone. Dad left Jericho." Dean looked at me, his eyes falling to the journal in my hands. "I've got his journal." I heard the worry in his voice as he said that. "Yeah, well, he did this time." Pause. "Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going." Pause. "I'm not sue yet.. Sam? Sam?!" He yelled down the phone, now looking scared. Before I had a chance to ask him what had happened, he slammed the phone down and grabbed my arm. "C'mon, we gotta go."

I stopped, realising where we were. "What the hell are you planning to do, run five miles and save him?"

"Well do you have a better idea?"

I paused and looked around slowly, my eyes falling to where a couple were climbing out of their car ."Hey, hey, excuse me," I yelled, running across the road towards them. The woman stopped and frowned slightly, looking from me to Dean. "Federal marshals, ma'am, we need to borrow your car." I said, pulling the fake badge from where it remained in my jacket pocket. She sighed lightly, handing me the keys. "We'll bring it back later, don't worry about it."

Dean shot her an awkward smile before climbing into the passenger seat. "Neat trick." He muttered.

"Thanks." I smirked. I drove recklessly down the long road towards the place where dad's research said Constance had lived. As we drove closer towards the house, we saw the Impala parked up outside. We climbed out of the car and walked warily towards it. For a second it looked like there was no one inside, until we heard the pained moan coming from Sam. On instinct, I ran forwards, gun in hand, my actions mirrored by Dean. The ghost made herself visible for a few seconds, turning as Dean fired through the window and obviously straight through her. She vanished and reappeared, vanishing again as he continued firing. "Sammy? You alright?" I called out. I heard him mumble something, I thought more to himself than us, before he put the Impala in drive and drove straight forward through the side of the house. Dean and I stared after the car, not entirely sure on what he was doing. We hurried forwards after him, seeing Sam move sightly behind the wheel. "Sam? You okay?" I asked him, Dean right beside me, a concerned frown on his face.

"I think.." Sam answered slowly, sounding in slight pain.

"Can you move?" Dean pressed.

"Yeah, help me." Dean leaned through the window to give Sam a hand, pulling him out of the car to stand with us.

"There you go." Dean muttered, his voice now calmer. As we turned, Constance glared at us, looking murderous. She threw down the picture she had been holding and moved a desk towards us, pinning us forcefully against the car.

The lights suddenly began to flicker around us, even Constance was now looking scared. Water began to pour down the staircase, a young boy and girl standing at the top, holding each other's hands. "You've come home to us, mommy." They said at the same time. In the time it took me to blink, they were standing behind her, holding her tightly, causing her to scream as she flickered in and out of sight. In a surge of energy, Constance and her two children melted into a pool of water on the floor, leaving the three of us alone. The pressure lifted from the desk pressed against us, now light enough to be pushed away easily.

"So this is where she drowned her kids." Dean stated, looking down at the wet floor.

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them."

"You found her weak spot, nice work, Sammy." Dean said lightly, slapping Sam on the chest where the ghost had grabbed him earlier as he walked away.

Sam laughed through the obvious pain, shaking his head. "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey. Saved your ass." Dean countered as he leaned over to look at his car closely. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car-" He paused and turned to look at him seriously. "-I'll kill you."

Sam laughed as we followed Dean's lead and climbed into the car. He reversed back onto the road and turned around, heading back down the highway. He put his foot down while Sam pulled out a road map from the glove compartment. He opened it up on his lap, along with dad's journal as he looked for the coordinates with a ruler, a flashlight tucked between his chin and shoulder. "Okay," He began, the first one of us to speak in over ten minutes. "-here's where dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"Sounds charming." I remarked.

Dean nodded slowly. "How far?"

"About six hundred miles."

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning." Dean said hopefully.

"Dean, I um.." Sam trailed off, not looking at him.

Dean glanced to the road and back to Sam. "You're not going."

"The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there."

Dean nodded, I could see the disappointment in his face. He returned his attention to the road and sighed lightly. "Yeah, yeah whatever." He glanced back at Sam for a second. "I'll take you home."

Sam turned the flashlight off as Dean drove on, none of us really talking much after that.

We drove in silence for about an hour, I was almost asleep when Dean suddenly swerved into a gas station, the slight jolt waking me up. "Gotta stop for gas." He said lightly, opening the car door. "Sam, fill it up will you, I'm gonna pick up some snacks."

I rolled my eyes at him and leaned back against the window, watching Sam closely. No matter how much I'd spent the weekend trying to convince myself that I didn't care anymore, that we were done, that there was no turning back- I couldn't shake the feeling of complete dread, terror, and pure fear when I'd thought Sam was about to get hurt back on the hunt. I sighed lightly and climbed out of the car, walking around slowly to where he was putting back the pump. "Hey, Sam.." I began slowly.

He looked wary about what I was going to say to him. "Yeah?"

"Your girlfriend, she seems really sweet."

He frowned a little, then smiled. "Thanks, she's uh, she's great."

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said, ya know, I get why you wanted to get away from this life. I shouldn't have said what I did."

"No, you were right. I should've called you. I wish I had."

I nodded slowly. "Well, I guess you can give us a call tomorrow night and let us know how your interview went, right? I'm sure you'll do great."

"Thanks." He smiled at me, the first real smile he'd given me since he'd joined us. "I really missed you, Max." He said quietly.

"Me too, Sammy." I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around him, breathing out deeply as he returned the hug, holding me tightly. For a minute, I felt okay. Like we hadn't fought at all, like he'd never left, like dad wasn't missing- like we were a family.

"Aw, now isn't that sweet." I rolled my eyes at the sound of Dean's voice and pulled back, a small smile on my face. Sam smirked and climbed back into the Impala, followed by me and Dean.

Four hours later, Palo Alto, California.

Dean pulled up in front of Sam's apartment building, a small frown still remaining on his face. Sam climbed out of the car and leaned over to look through the window. "Call me if you find him?" Dean simply nodded. "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, alright." Sam patted the car door twice and turned away from us, ready to head back. "Sam?" Dean called after him. Sam stopped and turned back to look at us. "You know, we made a hell of a team back there, the three of us."

"Yeah." Sam said quietly.

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds before Dean put the car in drive and set off down the road. Once we got to the end of the street, I climbed over the back seat and into the passenger seat beside him. He glanced away from the road to look at me and gave a small smile. "Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Tell you what, how about we head to a bar, have a few beers, then we get a take out and go back to the motel and watch some crappy horror movie, yeah?"

"Sure." I smiled lightly.

"What time is it anyway?"

I looked down at my wrist and frowned. "Uh, my watch stopped."

Dean took his eyes of the road for a second to glance down at his own wrist. "Mine too." We looked between each other slowly, realising something was obviously wrong, without saying anything, Dean turned the car around heading back to Sam's.

We got there to see a few people gathered around outside the building, pointing up at one of the windows where the apartment, obviously Sam's, was clearly on fire. Dean was already running towards the door before I'd even had a chance to think through what was happening. I went to follow him but he stopped and turned to face me. "Stay here." He yelled.

"Dean-"

"Don't you dare, Max." He warned, I could see the pleading look in his eyes. "I'll get him, just don't move, please."

I watched him run into the building, holding my breath as I prayed to god they'd make it back out. Ten minutes of wanting to be sick with fear, worry, desperation- Dean appeared in the doorway, looking as though he was pushing Sam out of the building against his will. He only released the death grip on Sam's jacket when they reached the side of the road.

I looked at Dean, searching his face for an answer. He looked me in the eyes and shook his head slowly, his face remorseful. I looked over at Sam and breathed out sadly, taking a couple of steps towards him and holding his hand with mine. He looked down at me, he looked mournful as he squeezed my hand tightly. "I'm sorry, Sam."

He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes before he let go of my hand and walked away, not looking at me. I sighed, figuring he needed a few minutes, and went over to Dean who was standing with the rest of the people on the street. The fire service were now there, as well as a couple of police cars and an ambulance. He placed an arm around me while we looked on at the fire with everyone else, before we turned away and headed back to the Impala where Sam was standing at the trunk, loading a shotgun. I glanced down at the trunk, and then back to Sam. He looked shattered, broken, his face a mask of desperate anger. He looked up at us and sighed, tossing the shotgun down into the trunk and nodding. "We got work to do." He muttered, his voice determined, as he slammed the trunk closed.

Palo Alto, California, motel room, 04:53AM.

I woke up that night, not even remembering when I'd fallen asleep. I pushed away the thoughts of my nightmare, sitting up in bed slowly and rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. I jumped a little as my eyes fell to the figure sitting at the table, calming when I realised that it was just Dean. He was sitting at the table, a bottle of whiskey and dad's journal in front of him, the only light coming from the dim lamp in the corner. I paused at the journal for a second, he was close to the beginning, he was reading about mom. "Are you alright?" I asked softly, my voice quiet enough that I wouldn't wake Sam. I climbed out of bed and crossed the room towards him, sitting opposite him and looking over him slowly. "Dean," I pressed, not sure he'd heard me the first time. "-what's wrong?"

Dean shook his head, frowning as he thought about it. "I uh, I don't know." He said slowly.

"Dean?" I glanced down, noticing a photo of mom and dad lying on top of the open journal. "What's going on?"

He finally looked up at me, he looked wrecked. "I saw her, Max, when she-"

I stopped, taking a few seconds before I realised who he was talking about. "Jess?"

"She was-" He paused, whatever it was, he didn't want to say it. "-she was on the ceiling."

"Wait, you don't mean like-" I stopped, staring at him, I couldn't even say it, let alone believe it.

"Exactly like dad described mom. Burning on the ceiling, her stomach cut.." He trailed off, the thought of mom like that obviously too much for him. "It was the same demon, Max, I know it."

"Have you called dad?"

"Yeah, all I got was his voicemail." He answered glumly.

"Poor Sammy." I looked over at him sadly through the darkness. "He didn't deserve this, it shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, he only managed to get to sleep about half an hour ago. He's not coping well with this, at all." He said slowly, his voice sorrowful. "Poor kid."

"He'll be alright," I said quietly. "We'll get him through this."

Aww, poor Sammy :-( SUPER LONG CHAPTER, I'm literally exhausted from writing it, feel like I need to sleep for like a month! Thank you so, so, so much for the lovely reviews and PM's, and for all the favorites and follows and just for taking the time to read, it means so much! Hope I didn't scare you off with the length, feel free to let me know how much you hate me for that if you'd like ;-)
I know you're all super curious about what's up with Max, but DON'T WORRY! It will be explained, very soon!
So, another thank you for the support, means the world! And please review, they make me squeal and giggle and want to walk around on rainbows! :D