September 19th, 2005, 12:15PM, Hospital.

Dean always looked so calm when he slept. That was the first thought I'd had when I'd gotten to the hospital that morning. His face became more care free when he was sleeping, the protective and watchful stance calmed, more relaxed. A lot of the time I wished that he could relax, take break from feeling as though he was constantly pressured to keep other people safe, to keep me safe. But that was who he was. He'd always been like that.

It had been three days since he'd been put into hospital, and he still hadn't woken up. The original feeling of panic, sheer terror and frustration had calmed, he was going to be fine, they'd said so. Now it was all just a waiting game. Waiting for Dean to wake up, for Dad to come back from wherever he'd gone, for us to leave town - just to get back to normal again, away from this town, this hunt, all of it. But I was starting to miss him. When I felt this low, this helpless, Dean was the one I turned to. He was the one who made it better. And he wasn't here. I'd thought about calling Sam, dialed his number and changed my mind, I couldn't face that. I just needed him to wake up.

Sitting there for three days gave me time to think, about all of the stuff that Dean actually did for this family, for me. The way that he'd looked after me and Sam when we were kids, the way he'd beat up anyone that gave any of us a second glance, the way he'd always made sure that everything was okay, that we were safe - he'd never once blown us off to do his own thing, he'd never let anything hurt us, he'd never turned his back on us - he didn't deserve any of this. There was dark bruising down one side of his face, he had two black eyes, one much worse than the other, a busted lip, cuts on his cheeks, cuts on his forehead and chin - he just looked a mess. I couldn't even look at him, because I'd done this to him. Every bruise, every cut, was there because of me.

What I couldn't understand is why he hadn't even made an attempt to fight back. If I'd been unconscious, I could've understood this, maybe the demon had just been too strong for him, I would've accepted that. But I'd been awake, and I'd seen him raise his fist, I'd seen him take a step back and drop it again, taking every punch and kick without giving anything back. Somehow, that made me feel even worse. Knowing that he could've fought back, and this whole thing could have been avoided, maybe it wouldn't have resulted in hospital, or in him being shot - I don't know. But Dean was stubborn, everybody knew that, and he'd sworn he'd never hurt me, he'd never hurt Sam, that he had our backs, and he never backed out on his promises. Even when it involved having his ass kicked.

I was too lost in my own thoughts to even notice when his eyes opened, only realising that he was awake as he shifted slightly, looking up to him, his eyes meeting mine. I stared at him for a few seconds, not sure what I wanted to say, whether it was sorry or are you okay or just to laugh in relief, I didn't know. "Hey, Maxie." He eventually said, breaking the silence that had surrounded us for the past three hours. Not one word being spoken since dad had left us. There was a small smile on his face, mixed with a slight grimace as it clearly pained him to do it. His voice cracked a little, his words quiet and soft, he didn't sound angry, or hurt, he just sounded worried. I could see him subconsciously looking over me, trying to make sure that I was okay, the way he always did when we'd been apart for more than a couple hours. I doubt he even knew he'd been out for three days. "You okay?" He pressed, clearly still more concerned about me than he was about himself.

I nodded slowly, feeling the tears building up again, whether it was the fact I could see how much pain he was in or just pure alleviation that he was okay, I wasn't sure. "I'm okay." I answered quietly, my voice fracturing for a second as I tried to hold it together. He'd almost died, he'd been in hospital unconscious for three days, he was the one with the bullet wound in his shoulder and he was asking me if I was okay. "What about you?" I asked, my tone becoming a little more serious. He didn't look fine, he looked like he was in some serious pain and he was trying to hide it.

Dean shrugged at me, letting a small smile form on his face. "Oh yeah, just awesome." He said lightly, the hint of a frown remaining on his face. I let out a sigh of relief, the knot of fear in my chest relaxing slightly. For the first time in the past three days, my mind went to the one place I'd worked to stop it from going - the thought that Dean could actually die. He wasn't indestructible. Not the way I'd thought he was. Growing up, I'd always thought he was untouchable, that no one could ever hurt Dean, because Dean was tough, and strong, and he looked out for us. Because he never complained, he never got ill, he never got hurt - and then as I'd gotten older, I'd realised, he had. He just hadn't let it show. He never let it show. And I didn't understand how he did that. I didn't understand how he was so tough all the time. Sure, I'd seen him get angry, upset, I'd seen him on the verge of tears - but he never let it last. The second his guard came down he put it right back up, every time. "You're crying." He said softly, looking up at me sadly.

I wiped at my cheeks, not even realising that the tears had fallen down my face, shaking my head slowly. "No, I'm not." I felt stupid crying, after what he'd been through, he should be the one upset, not me, but somehow I couldn't hold it back. The thought of him dying scared me more than anything else. More than any hunt or any monster - because the darkest place that I could ever imagine myself being was if something happened to Dean.

"Liar." He muttered, giving me a knowing look and reaching out to pull my hand away from my face, looking up at me properly. "What's wrong?" I looked him in the eye, more tears replacing the ones I'd wiped away.

"Dean," My voice came out as a whisper, quieter than I'd intended. "I'm sorry." My breath caught in my throat, the tears freely falling now. I looked away from him to the floor, unable to face him anymore. "I'm so sorry."

Dean kept his hold on my hand, pulling me from the chair to sit beside him on the bed, placing an arm around my shoulders, his cheek rested against the top of my head. "Maxie, it's okay." He said gently, his voice sincere. "It wasn't your fault, alright?" All I could do at that point was cry, grip to the front of his white t-shirt for dear life, refusing to let go, and cry. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried like that. I never let myself cry, ever. But Dean didn't do anything, didn't try to stop me, just held onto me, telling me that it was okay, that he was fine, that we'd be okay. And eventually I believed him, and I calmed down.

I pulled back a little, looking up at him and seeing something that I didn't expect to see. Dean had tears in his eyes. I could count on one hand the amount of times I'd seen Dean cry. And there was no doubt that later he'd tell me it was the drugs, or the morphine, and I'd pretend to believe him, but he had tears clinging to his eyelashes, threatening to fall from his eyes. "You're crying." I stated, looking up at him.

Dean wiped a hand over his face, giving me a small smile. "Guess that makes two of us then, doesn't it." He said lightly. I nodded slowly, unable to stop a laugh from escaping me. Dean just shook his head at me, the sympathetic look never leaving his face as he raised his hand and wiped the tears from my cheeks. "We're so lame." He muttered, the hint of a smile in his voice. We stayed there like that for about an hour before the doctors even knew that Dean was awake, neither of us really saying much. But I knew he was there, and I knew he was okay, that he wasn't going anywhere - and that made it all okay. Because I felt safe again.

Present - Motel room, 09:12AM.

I opened my eyes to the bright sunlight coming through the open window, reluctantly pushing myself to sit up and glancing between my brothers. Dean was sitting at the table, Sam's laptop open in front of him, his eyes scanning whatever was on the screen. "Morning." He muttered, looking over at me as I sat up. I gave him a small nod, not bothering with an answer. "Anyway," He said, going back to looking at the laptop. "There's a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali - its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas." He glanced up at Sam and raised an eyebrow when he didn't get a response. I looked over at the next bed where Sam's attention seemed to be focused on the picture of a tree he was drawing. "Hey." Dean pressed, Sam finally looking up at him. "Am I boring you with all this hunting evil stuff?"

"No," Sam muttered, looking back to his drawing. "I'm listening, keep going."

"And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head, three times." I followed his eyes to Sam when he once again didn't answer, waving a hand in front of his face. "Any of these things blowing up your skirt, pal?" He asked lightly, the concern showing slightly.

Sam just looked at the picture on his knee, a sudden realisation washing over his face. "Wait, I've seen this."

Dean looked from him to me, a confused frown on his face. "Seen what?" He pressed. Sam got up from the bed and grabbed his duffel bag from the floor, opening it up on the bed and searching through it. Dean got to his feet and took a step towards him, folding his arms over his chest. "What are you doing?" Without answering him, Sam pulled out an old photo of us from when we were kids, Sam and I just babies, and held it up beside his drawing.

I climbed out of bed and moved to stand beside Dean, watching him curiously. "I know where we have to go next." He said, looking between us. Dean just raised an eyebrow at him. "We need to go back home - back to Kansas."

"Okay, random." Dean looked calmer than I expected him to at that. We'd barely ever talked about going back home. The last time he'd mentioned it had been Mom's birthday the year before, when we'd both been completely wasted - and he'd said that he never, ever wanted to go back there. "Where'd that come from?"

Sam held out the photo to us. "Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?" Dean just looked at him, clearly not impressed with where this conversation was going. Mom was a touchy subject to bring up with him in the first place. "And it burned down, right?" He continued, taking Dean's silence as a yes. "I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?"

I glanced up at him, he looked about as lost on the situation as I was. "Sam, what the hell are you talking about?" I asked him, starting to get a little worried myself.

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but," He paused and took a breath. "The people who live in our old house - I think they might be in danger."

Dean shook his head. "Why would you think that?"

Sam now looked like he was struggling for an answer. "Uh, it's just, um.. Look, just trust me on this, okay?" He turned, ready to walk away until Dean took a step forwards, stopping him.

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?" He raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a little bIt more than that."

Sam now really did look lost. "I just, I can't really explain it is all."

"Well, tough." Dean answered flatly. "I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Sam sighed heavily, Dean just looking at him expectantly. "I have these nightmares." He began.

Dean nodded. "We've noticed." He said calmly.

"And sometimes," He paused for a couple of seconds. "They come true."

I looked up at him, not sure I'd heard that right. "Come again?" Dean pressed, clearly as stunned as I was.

"Look, guys.." He said slowly. "I dreamt about Jessica's death, for days before it happened."

"Sammy," I tried calmly. "People have weird dreams, bro. Probably just a coincidence."

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, shaking his head. "No. I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it, 'cause I didn't believe it." I thought back to the Bloody Mary hunt we'd taken a few weeks ago, remembering what the Sam in the mirror had said to him. "And now, I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help.. I mean, that's where it all started, this has to mean something, right?"

I didn't know what else to say to him, I couldn't think of anything. I sat down at the table, looking to Dean to handle this. "I don't know." He eventually said, clearly overwhelmed by what he was being told. He dropped down into the chair opposite mine, running a hand over his face with a sigh.

Sam took a seat in the chair between us, looking from me to Dean. "What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger, I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica-"

"Alright, just slow down, would ya?" Dean cut him off, standing up as he began pacing around the room. "I mean, first you drop the bomb that you've got the shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when-" He stopped himself before he could go any further.

Sam frowned. "When what?" He pressed.

"When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?" He finished sadly.

Sam sighed softly. "Look, Dean, we have to check this out, just to make sure."

Dean nodded slowly. "I know we do." He muttered.

Sam looked at him for a few seconds, a concerned frown on his face, before briefly looking at me and nodding to himself slowly. "I'm gonna take a shower." He said quietly. "Then we can hit the road."

I looked at Dean, who looked too deep in his own thoughts to answer him. "Sure." I muttered, giving him a light smile as he turned and closed the bathroom door behind himself. I sighed and glanced over the table towards Dean, his eyes were fixed on the floor ahead of him, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Dean," He blinked and looked up at me slowly, simply shaking his head before I could even ask if he was okay, that way it was like he could say so without having to admit it. "It's gonna be fine, Dean." I said quietly, the only think that I could think to say to him. "It's gonna be fine."

He nodded slowly, not looking convinced. "Yeah," He muttered, standing up and running a hand down his face. "I'm sure it is."

The next morning.

Dean pulled up the Impala outside of the house. The house that I could only ever remember seeing in pictures. We'd never been back here, not since we'd left. It was twenty-two years since any of us had set foot in Lawrence, the last time when Sam and I had been just babies, Dean only four years old. "You gonna be alright, man?" Sam asked Dean as the three of us climbed out of the car.

Dean looked up and down the street as he slammed the door closed behind himself. "Let me get back to you on that." He muttered, leading the way up to the front door. He knocked lightly, waiting a few seconds before the door was opened. A young woman, pretty with blonde hair, came to the door, looking between us. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal-" Dean began, not getting another word out before Sam cut over him.

"I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, and my sister, Max." He said, pointing between us as he spoke. "We used to live here. You know, we were just driving by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

She smiled at us and nodded. "Winchester.. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night." She said as she stepped aside. "Come on in." We followed her into the house, and through to the kitchen. There was a young girl sitting at the table, doing some homework, and a toddler jumping in his playpen. It felt weird, knowing that at one point, a long time ago, we had lived here. Back when we'd been a normal family. Before the ghosts and the demons and the hunting, when Mom and Dad had been happy. "That's Richie," She said, gesturing to the young boy in the playpen. "And this is Sari," She stopped beside her chair and looked back to us. "Sari, this is Max, Dean and Sam, they used to live here."

"Hi." She said quietly, looking between the three of us slowly.

"So, you just moved in?" Dean asked Jenny.

"Yeah, from Wichita."

Dean nodded. "You got family here, or..?"

"No, I just, uh.. needed a fresh start, that's all." She answered. "So, new town, new job - I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.."

"So, how you liking it so far?" Sam pressed.

"Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home, I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here." Dean smiled weakly at that. "But this place has its issues, you know, it's just getting old.. Like the wiring. I mean, we've got flickering lights almost hourly."

"Oh, that's too bad." Dean answered, sounding like he was struggling to sound calm. "What else?"

"Um, sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement." She paused and looked between us. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No," Dean shook his head, clearly not offended. "Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

Jenny frowned. "It's just the scratching, actually."

"Mom," Sari said, looking up at her. Jenny kneeled down beside her. "Ask them if it was here when they were here."

"What, Sari?" Sam pressed.

"The thing in my closet." She said quietly.

"Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closet." She said, turning to us. "Right?"

"Right, no, no, of course not." Sam said to her.

"She had a nightmare the other night." Jenny explained, giving us a slight shrug.

"I wasn't dreaming, it came into my bedroom." She said, sounding convinced by her own words. "and it was on fire." I felt my stomach drop at that, a feeling of dread washing over me. That was the last thing I'd wanted to hear. I glanced up at Dean, he looked too shocked to say anything. Sam looked back down at me, his eyes wide.

"Well, thank you for, you know, letting us see the place." I muttered, realising that neither Sam or Dean were going to. "We should, uh, we should be going."

"Oh, okay." She smiled. "Well it was nice meeting you."

We all nodded, making our way towards the front door. Sam pulled it closed behind us, leading the way down the steps outside of the house. "You hear that?" Sam pressed urgently as we made our way back to the Impala. "A figure on fire."

"And that woman, Jenny, was the woman in your dreams?" I asked, almost praying that he'd say no.

"Yeah," He nodded at me, looking between us quickly. "And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are coming true." Dean muttered, his voice was calm, but there was the faintest hint of fear in his words.

"Well, forget about that for a minute." Sam went on, almost sounding panicked. "The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know." Dean snapped.

"Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?" Sam went on, his voice fast.

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet." Dean argued.

"Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get them out of that house."

Dean paused at the door to the Impala to face him. "And we will." He assured, his tone more confident.

"No," Sam said flatly. "I mean now."

"And how you gonna do that, huh?" Dean countered, taking a step closer to him. "You got a story that she's gonna believe?" Sam simply shook his head, clearly wound up, and sighed deeply, giving in. "We just gotta chill out, that's all." Dean went on, much calmer than he had been. "You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?"

Sam took a breath, looking down for a second. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with." He answered quietly. "We'd dig into the history of the house."

"Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened." Dean said as he climbed into the car, Sam and I doing the same.

"Yeah, but how much do we know?" Sam pressed curiously. "I mean, how much do you actually remember?"

Dean looked away from him, keeping his gaze fixed out of the window ahead. "About that night, you mean?" Sam nodded slowly. "Not much.. I remember the fire.. the heat.." He paused for a minute, looking over to him. "And then I carried you and Maxie out the front door."

Sam glanced up at him, looking a little shocked. "You did?" He pressed.

"Yeah," Dean replied casually. "What, you never knew that?" Sam only shook his head. If I didn't know better, I'd have said he was lost for words. "And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was.. was on the ceiling." Dean paused and looked down for a second. "And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?" Sam questioned.

"If he did, he kept it to himself." Dean muttered. "God knows we asked him enough times."

"Okay, so if we're gonna figure out what's going on now, we have to figure out what happened back then." Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

Sam paused for a few seconds. "Does this feel like just another job to you?" Dean didn't say anything for a minute before giving a slight shake of his head and putting the car into gear, setting off down the street.

None of us spoke for the short drive, Dean's eyes clearly fixed on the road, refusing to look away incase it sparked up a conversation he didn't want to have. After about ten minutes of tense, silent driving, he pulled over into a gas station, stopping in front of one of the pumps. He grabbed his wallet from his jacket pocket and tossed it back over his shoulder to me. "Maxie, go get me some food or something, yeah?" He muttered, opening the door and stepping out. "Sam, fill the gas up, I gotta go to the bathroom." With that, he slammed the door closed and headed off out of sight.

Sam and I watched him go, turning to look at each other. He looked confused, a concerned frown set into his face. "What's with him?" He said quietly, looking from me over the parking lot to where he'd walked away.

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't know, Sammy." I answered, trying to work out what was up with him myself. "Rough hunt, I guess." I added, the only thing that I could think to put it down to.

"Yeah," Sam nodded slowly, looking deep in thought. "Guess so." He muttered, not saying anything for a few seconds before he sighed and climbed out of the car, walking around to the gas pumps. I ran a hand over my face and also climbed out of the car, heading over to the store for Dean.

I walked out of the store again, seeing that Dean wasn't back from wherever he'd gone and Sam was still filling up the car with gas. He looked up as I walked towards him, raising an eyebrow like he'd been expecting two of us. "Where's Dean?" He pressed curiously, clearly becoming worried about him. I was too, this was different for Dean than it was for me and Sam, he remembered this house, what had happened to him, he remembered Mom; we didn't.

I tossed the stuff into the backseat and shrugged. "Uh, he said he was going to the bathroom, didn't he?" I muttered, shaking my head at him. Sam only looked at me, not looking convinced. "I'll go see where he's gone." He nodded at me as I gave him a weak smile and turned away from him. I headed off around the same corner I'd watched Dean disappear behind, only now thinking about how urgent he'd seemed to get some space on his own. I turned, seeing him standing with his back to me, beside the door of the diner. "Hey, Dean, are you-" I stopped as Dean jumped a little, clearly startled, and turned quickly to face me. I hadn't even realised he'd been on the phone until he snapped it closed and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He looked like he was holding back tears, working on keeping himself calm as he pushed up a shaky smile to his face. I glanced back around the corner, seeing Sam was still leaning against the car, not looking too concerned about where we'd gone off to, before turning back to Dean. I took a couple of steps closer to him, looking over him carefully. "What's wrong?" Dean didn't answer me, just shook his head slowly, like he didn't know what to say. Either that or he couldn't find the words, I wasn't sure. "Was that dad?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes slightly at him.

Dean sighed and shifted slightly, looking like he really didn't want to talk about it. "It was his voicemail." He muttered, giving a small shrug. "When is it ever dad?" He added glumly. He didn't look far off tears, shining in his eyes despite how hard he tried to hold them back. It was a rare thing that I ever saw him like this, because he usually did anything to make sure of it. "Let's face it, Max, we know there's something in that house - and I don't know if it's the thing that killed mom or not but.." He trailed off, his voice cracking as he fought to stay calm. "I don't know what to do. And I don't know how to deal with this-" He stopped himself before he could go any further, taking a step back and leaning against the wall, shaking his head slowly and letting out a breath.

"Dean," I began, not sure of what to say to him. "I get this is hard, but you're not on your own in this, alright? Sam and I are right here." His eyes moved to me, a genuine look of sorrow on his face. For a few seconds I thought that he was going to break down, that he was going to literally lose the control he had over his emotions and give in. But he didn't. He pushed himself forwards off the wall and nodded slowly at me, managing a small smile.

"I know." He answered quietly, his face once again becoming calm and emotionless, everything being held back by him. "Thanks." He said quietly, taking a short breath before he turned and headed off around the corner, back to the Impala.

30 Minutes later

I looked around the garage we were standing in, only half listening to the guy Sam and Dean were talking to. I found it hard to believe that Dad ever worked in a place like this, that he ever had a normal, everyday, stable job. He was always so driven, so focused on whatever he was doing. As a kid, before I'd known what he was really doing, I'd thought that was down to him being a Marine, that he was just like that. I'd never seen him as being the calm, normal, come home every night after work and sit with his family kind of parent. But for a few years, Dean had known him as that, he'd had that with him. Sometimes I thought that must have hurt him even more, because Dean knew what we were missing, Sam and I didn't. "So, you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?" Dean asked the guy in front of us.

I looked up at him as he nodded. "Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh.. twenty years since John disappeared." He frowned. "So why the cops interested all of a sudden?"

"Oh, we're re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of them." Dean answered calmly. "So, uh, you know, whatever you remember about John, whatever sticks out in your mind."

"Well," He frowned a little as he thought back. "He was a stubborn bastard, I remember that." He laughed. "And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It's that whole Marine thing.. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids."

"But that was before the fire?" Sam pressed. "He ever talk about that night?"

"No, not at first, I think he was in shock."

"Right, but eventually?" Sam went on. "What did he say about it?"

"Oh, he wasn't thinking straight, he said something caused that fire and killed Mary." He said quietly.

Dean frowned. "Did he ever say what did it?"

"Nothing did it." He answered flatly. "It was an accident - an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something. I begged him to get some help but.. Oh, he just got worse and worse." He shook his head slowly. "He started reading these strange old books. He started going to see this palm reader in town."

"Palm reader?" Dean repeated. "Uh, do you have a name?"

The guy scoffed. "No."

"Right," Dean smiled slightly. "Well, thanks anyway." He nodded at us as we turned and left the garage, walking back to the Impala.

"Okay, so we've gotta find this palm reader." Sam muttered as we climbed back into the car. "Where are we supposed to start with something like that?"

I leaned against the side of the Impala, Dean standing beside me, while Sam stood next to a payphone. He sighed and flipped through another page of the phonebook. "Alright, so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town." He explained. "There's someone named El Divino. There's uh," He paused and let out a laugh. "There's the Mysterious Mister Fortinsky.. Uh, Missouri Mosely-"

"Wait, wait," Dean cut in. "Missouri Mosely?"

"What?" Sam muttered.

"That's a psychic?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." He shrugged.

Dean frowned. "Hey, Max, pass me Dad's journal, will you?" I reached through the window and grabbed it from the backseat, handing it to him. He opened it and nodded, holding it out to us. "First page, first sentence. Read that."

"I went to Missouri and I learned the truth." I read slowly, frowning and looking up at him.

Dean shrugged. "I always thought he meant the state."

One hour later

I tossed the magazine I'd been flipping through back to the table in front of us and sighed, looking back as the door opened. "Alright, there. Don't you worry about a thing," Missouri was saying to the man she was walking out. "Your wife is crazy about you." The man thanked her as she closed the front door behind him. "Whew," She said as she turned back to face us. "Poor bastard, his woman is cold-bangin' the gardener."

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked, standing up with me and Sam to face her.

"People don't come here for the truth, they come for good news." We only stared at her, not answering. "Well? Max, Sam, Dean, come on already, I ain't got all day." She said as she turned and walked out of the room. We looked between each other, clearly all as confused as each other, before we followed her out of the room and into the next room. "Well, lemme look at ya." She said brightly. "Max, so pretty, and you boys grew up handsome," She pointed a finger at Dean. "And you were one goofy lookin' kid, too." Dean glared at her, Sam and I laughing to ourselves. "Sam," She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Oh, honey.. I'm sorry about your girlfriend, and your father? He's missing?"

"How did you know about that?" Sam asked slowly, the shock clear in his voice.

"Well, you were just thinkin' it just now." Sam just raised his eyebrows.

"Well, where is he?" Dean pressed urgently. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know." Missouri answered.

"Don't know?" He repeated, almost sounding desperate. "Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

"Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." She snapped. Sam smirked at us as we sat down across from her. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table I'm 'a whack you with a spoon." She snapped at Dean before any of us had a chance to say anything.

"I didn't do anything." Dean protested innocently.

"But you were thinking about it." Dean raised his eyebrows at me and Sam, neither of us doing anything but smiling at him.

"Okay," Sam said to her. "So, our dad - when did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading, a few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark," She said to us. "I guess you could say, I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire?" I asked. "Do you know about what killed our mom?"

"A little.. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of the thing.."

"And could you?" Sam pressed curiously.

"I.." She trailed off and shook her head.

Sam frowned. "What was it?"

"I don't know." She said softly. "Oh, but it was evil." I glanced up at Dean, matching his small frown with one of my own. "So," Missouri pressed, looking between the three of us slowly, a light frown on her face. "You think something is back in that house?"

Sam nodded. "Definitely."

Missouri shook her head. "I don't understand." She said quietly. "I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents.. Why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam answered. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once, it just feels like something is starting."

"That's a comforting thought." Dean commented.

That night, Jenny's House

Sam knocked lightly at the door, waiting a few seconds before Jenny answered it, looking a little surprised when she saw us. "Sam, Dean, Max? What are you doing here?" She asked quietly.

"Hey, Jenny," Sam smiled. "This is our friend, Missouri."

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house." Dean said lightly. "You know, for old times sake."

"You know, it's not really a good time." She said slowly. "I'm kind of busy."

"Listen, Jenny, it's important." Dean went on, getting no further before Missouri smacked him around the back of the head. "Ow!" He complained.

"Give the poor girl a break, can't you see that she's upset?" She turned to Jenny and lowered her voice. "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out." Dean just looked stunned.

"About what?" Jenny said quietly.

"About this house." Missouri said softly.

Jenny frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know what I'm talking about." She pressed. "You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny looked between us slowly. "Who are you?"

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing.. But you're gonna have to trust us just a little." Jenny looked unsure, but stepped aside and let us in. We followed her up to Sari's bedroom, Missouri walking inside first. "If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it." She said quietly, looking around slowly.

"Why?" Sam pressed.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam, Max." We looked between each other. "This is where it all happened." I looked up at the ceiling, feeling a little sick at the thought. Dean pulled out an EMF meter from his jacket. "That EMF?" Missouri asked, glancing back at him.

"Yeah." He muttered.

"Amature." Dean glared at her, turning on the EMF meter which began beeping frantically. "I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam asked. Missouri nodded slowly. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here." She said quietly. "It's something different."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Not it." She opened the closet door and looked inside. "Them.. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"What are they doing here?" I asked, honestly not sure what I was thinking anymore.

"They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected." She answered. "This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It attracted a poltergeist, a nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"You said there was more than one spirit?" Sam pressed curiously.

"There is." She nodded. "I just can't quite make out the second one."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure - nobody's dying in this house ever again." Dean said, his voice full of determination. "So whatever is here, how do we stop it?"

Missouri gestured for us to follow her downstairs and though to the kitchen. "Hey, Max, why don't you try and get Jenny out of the way?" Sam said quietly, nodding towards the other room.

I nodded slowly and went over to the door, pushing it open slowly. "Jenny?" I pressed. She looked up from where she was sitting on the couch with Sari beside her, Richie on her knee.

"What's going on?" She pressed.

"Everything's fine, okay? I just - it might be better if you got your kids out of here while we take care of this thing, you know?"

She frowned slightly, shaking her head. "I don't know.." She said quietly. "Why can't one of you just tell me what happened in my house?"

I looked down for a second and nodded. "Alright, when we lived here - there was this thing, I don't know exactly what, but it killed our mom.. And now there's something else here, and I'm sure you've noticed stuff happening already, it's dangerous.. And we just want to make sure that nothing happens to anyone in this house again, okay? That means you and your family." I looked her in the eye for a few seconds. "Trust us, please."

Jenny looked down for a second and nodded. "Okay."

Missouri headed out to us as Jenny and her children stood at the door, putting on their coats. "Are you sure about this?" She asked, looking back at the house for a second.

"Just take your kids to the movies or somethin'," Missouri smiled. "It'll all be over by the time you get back." Jenny still looked slightly unsure, but nodded slowly and left with her kids.

I followed Missouri back into the kitchen where Sam and Dean were sitting at the table, a variety of different herbs and roots on the table. "What's all this stuff?" I asked as we walked inside.

"Angelic Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends." She answered. "We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east and west on each floor of the house." She explained.

"We'll be punching holes in the dry wall." Dean stated simply. "Jenny's gonna love that."

"She'll live." Missouri muttered slyly.

"And this'll destroy the spirits?" Sam asked.

"It should." She nodded. "It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor, but we work fast. Once the spirits realise what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

Dean nodded. "Max comes with me." He said flatly.

Missouri just looked at him, seemingly deciding it better not to argue.

I knocked a hole into the wall of the kitchen, pushing inside one of the small bags. I turned slowly at the sound of a small bang. "Dean!" I yelled. He turned quickly from where he'd been knocking a hole into the wall with an ax and ducked out of the way, just in time as a knife flew at his head from the kitchen drawer. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the floor with him, behind the turned over table as the knives stuck into the top of it. There was the sound of a thud from upstairs, Dean and I looking between each other slowly. "You think that's it?" I asked, pausing as the sound of knives seemed to stop.

"Alright," Dean muttered. "We just run, okay? Upstairs." I nodded and got up with him, the two of us running straight up the stairs and into the room where Sam was lying on the floor, looking unconscious. "Sam!" Dean yelled, running over to him and pulling on the cord around his neck, not able to move it. "Max, the wall." He muttered urgently.

I nodded and ran to the side of the room, kicking a hole in it before shoving inside a bag of the herbs. A bright white flash shone through the room. I looked back over at Sam as Dean pulled the cord from around his neck, pulling him towards him tightly. I sighed in relief, seeing that he was okay, Dean nodding at me.

Missouri walked into the kitchen, looking around at the mess and frowning a little. "You sure this is over?" Sam asked her as she entered.

"I'm sure." She nodded. "Why? Why do you ask?"

"Never mind." He sighed. "It's nothing, I guess."

We all turned at the sound of the front door opening and closing. "Hello?" Jenny's voice called. "We're home." She walked into the kitchen, her eyes going wide. "What happened?"

"Hi, sorry." Sam smiled apologetically. "We'll pay for all of this." Dean looked up at him at that, shooting him a look.

"Don't you worry." Missouri smiled. "Dean's gonna clean up this mess." Dean just stood there, clearly not inclined to move. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop." He turned to walked away. "And don't cuss at me!" She called after him. Dean just shook his head, walking away and muttering under his breath.

After a while, the four of us left the house. Jenny waved us off and closed the door behind herself. We dropped Missouri off at her house before Dean started up the car again, heading to the motel. "Wait," Sam said suddenly. "We need to go back to Jenny's."

Dean frowned at him. "What, why?"

Sam shook his head. "Look, I can't explain it, okay? We just - please."

I just shrugged at Dean as he glanced back at me, before he turned a corner and drove back to Jenny's place. He pulled up outside and sighed. "Alright, so tell us, Sam, what are we doing here?"

"I don't know," He muttered. "I just.. I have a bad feeling."

"Why?" He frowned. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over."

"Yeah, well, probably." He answered, looking back up at the house. "But I just wanna make sure, that's all."

"Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now." He mumbled as he slouched down in his seat and closed his eyes. I sighed and did the same, only then realising how tired I was. I was almost asleep when I heard Sam move suddenly. "Guys, guys, look!" He said urgently. I sat up at looked out of the window, over at the house, seeing Jenny banging against her window, screaming.

"You and Max grab the kids, I'll get Jenny." Dean said quickly as we climbed out of the car and ran over towards the house. Dean kicked down the front door, the three of us running upstairs towards the bedrooms. Sam pointed towards one of them, him taking the other one. I ran inside, finding Richie crying in his crib. I grabbed him and ran back out of the room, finding Sari at the bottom of the stairs.

"Sari?" I looked around, not seeing Sam anywhere. She turned to me, looking up the stairs for a second before I grabbed her hand and ran out of the door towards Dean and Jenny. Dean seemed to notice me looking around outside for Sam, as he knelt down to Sari's level, a panicked look on his face.

"Sari, where's Sam?" He pressed.

"He's inside. Something got him!" She cried.

We simultaneously turned to the front door, jumping as it slammed closed by itself. Dean went straight to the trunk, grabbing a rifle and an ax, running towards the front door. He handed me the rifle as he began slamming against the door with the ax. Eventually, he made a hole that was big enough for us to fit through, grabbing the gun from me as he dropped the ax. "Alright, Maxie, wait here."

I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? No way in hell are you going in there alone."

He sighed deeply. "Max-"

"Dean." I cut him off before he had a chance to argue any further. "I'm coming with you." He nodded before turning back to the door, the two of us climbing through the hole. "Sam?" I called out, hearing nothing. "Sammy?!"

We ran upstairs, looking around for him. Dean ran first into one of the bedrooms, immediately seeing the figure of someone on fire. Dean raised the gun to it. "No, don't." Sam stopped him. "Don't."

Dean paused, a frown on his face. "What, why?!" He asked urgently.

"Because I know who it is." He said slowly. "I can see her now."

I turned back to the figure as the fire faded away, leaving behind our mom. She stood there and looked at us, her blonde hair falling over her long white nightdress. She was as pretty as Dean had always said she was, a faint smile on her face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean lower the gun slowly. "Mom?" He whispered, I could hear the shock in his tone.

She smiled and stepped closer to him. "Dean." She said, looking from him to me and smiling softly. "Max." I never remembered what her voice had sounded like, or what she looked like other than in the few photos that I'd seen as a kid. I felt tears build up, blurring my vision slightly. My eyes followed her as she took a step towards Sam, tears now falling down his face. "Sam." She said softly. "I'm sorry."

Sam frowned at her. "For what?" She looked up at him softly, saying nothing.

She turned away from us and looked up at the ceiling. "You, get out of my house. And let go of my son." Once again, she burst into flames, the fire reaching the ceiling before it disappeared.

The force holding Sam against the wall stopped, letting him down to his feet. He walked over towards me and Dean, the three of us looking at each other, all completely stunned. "Now it's over." He said quietly.

Jenny's House, The next morning.

Dean stood at the trunk of the Impala, looking through a bunch of pictures that Jenny had given to him. I leaned beside him at the side of the car, watching him as he did. There was a slight smile on his face, mixed with a sadness in his eyes. "Thanks for these." He said, glancing up from them to give Jenny a light smile.

"Don't thank me," She said. "They're yours." She smiled as she turned and walked away, Dean and I both waving to her before she paused at where Sam and Missouri were sitting on the steps outside of the house talking.

Dean smiled at one of them and shook his head. "You were cute." He said lightly, looking up at me and smirking. "What happened?"

"Shut up," I laughed, kicking him playfully in the leg. "I'm still cute."

He rolled his eyes and placed the placed the box of photos into the trunk of the car, closing it and leaning against it beside me, his arms folded over his chest. "So, I was meaning to talk to you," He began quietly. I glanced up at him, noting the uncomfortable look on his face. "You know, since we told Sam, we haven't really talked about it and," He paused for a few seconds, his voice turning completely serious. "Look, Maxie, I know that I haven't been listening to you, not in the way that I should have been, and I'm sorry for that, I am.. And I'm sorry if I made you think that I'm not here for you, or that you couldn't talk to me about this, whatever this is.. I'm sorry if you felt like you were on your own in this, because you're not. And I'm listening to you now, okay?"

"Dean, I just - I don't wanna fight anymore." I said quietly, looking up at him with a light sigh. There was concern drawn all over his face, mixed with a genuine apologetic smile. "I'm tired of fighting you, I mean, you used to be the only one who I didn't fight with, you know?."

Dean nodded slowly. "I know." He said softly. "And, you know, if it's what you want, and it's what you think is best, I'm not going to fight you on this anymore - I'm not going to push you to take anything, I'm not going to watch what you are and aren't taking." I frowned, not actually believing what he was saying. Usually when Dean had made his mind up about something, he stuck with it. "But, you have to start being honest, alright? I mean, if you start feeling like before, or things get rough, then you stop and you say something, you don't keep it all bottled up like the last time. You hear me?"

"Yeah, Dean, I hear you." He smiled a little and nodded at me.

"Good." We both stood there for a couple of minutes, not saying anything to each other. I felt better now, knowing that Dean and I were okay again, and that maybe we could get back to being the way we had been before all of this, before the possession, before the fights, before the arguments - back when we were like a team. "Sam, you ready?" Dean called over to him, breaking the silence.

Sam nodded and got to his feet, heading over towards us with Missouri. "Don't you three be strangers." She smiled at us.

"We won't." Dean answered, giving her a small smile back.

"See you around." The three of us nodded, all getting into the car as Dean started up the engine, put in a tape and drove away.

September 27th, 2005, 11:50PM.

I set my whiskey glass down on the bar in front of me, looking down at the brown liquid miserably. This is the way I'd always wanted to avoid becoming, drinking cheap whiskey in some crappy bar, stressed out over hunting. Yet, here I was. I felt someone sit down beside me, turning slowly to Dean's concerned face. He looked me over carefully, looking like he was torn between yelling at me and getting drunk himself. "Max," He began flatly. "Come on, you're coming with me." I didn't say anything to that, just kept my eyes fixed on the glass, wishing I could just be left alone for a while. "C'mon, you shouldn't be here. You haven't slept in days." I could hear the concern clearly in his voice. The worry, the sadness, the pity, and that all made it feel worse. I didn't want him feeling sorry for me, about any of it. I could barely bring myself to look at him. His bruised face just one clear reminder of everything that I'd done, like a punch to the stomach every single time that I faced him. "Please," He tried again, his tone becoming desperate. "Just talk to me, Maxie, that's what I'm here for."

I sighed and took another drink of whiskey, looking down at the small glass in my hand, studying it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "Dean-" I began, getting no further before he cut me off.

"No," He sounded like he was at the end of his tether, his patience with me completely gone. "I'm not taking this anymore, you're going to make yourself ill." He reached out and took the glass from my hand, setting it down on the bar beside us with a small thud. "Listen to me, you can't carry on like this, Max.." He paused and lowered his voice. "I think you need to see someone."

I looked up at him in disbelief, even from him, that was the last thing I'd ever expected to hear. "See someone?" I repeated slowly, not even sure on whether I'd gotten the message right. "Like who? You mean a shrink?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head at me. "Max-" He began, his tone remaining patient, but I could see that it was taking everything in him not to lose his temper.

"You wanna send me to some freaking head doctor, Dean? Nice." I stood from the bar stool, getting to my feet and running a hand through my hair. "How long do you think it'll be before I'm in a padded cell, huh?" I shook my head, turning and making my way through the bar towards the door, pushing open the door forcefully and heading out onto the cold, dark parking lot. I heard the door bang open and closed behind me, then footsteps following me.

"Max, that wasn't what I meant." Dean called, walking up behind me. "But obviously something is going on with you, and I don't know how to make it better because you won't tell me what's going on in your head!" His voice was rising, the anger and frustration and fear beginning to come out. "You keep so much hidden away, Max, and so much bottled up, you make it impossible to know what you're thinking! And honestly, all of this - this behaviour, it's really starting to scare me."

I shook my head, turning around to face him. "Dean, how many times, I'm fine." I tried to sound confident, but the utterly hopeless look he had on his face, the look of despair, it was almost too much to handle. He'd always been the one I'd looked to for strength, and now he looked as helpless as he clearly felt.

"No, Max, you are not fine." He argued, his tone hard. "How the hell can you not see that?! I mean, you haven't eaten in, what, three days now? And I know for a fact that you don't sleep. Hell, you barely even talk anymore- it's not you. And you can stand there and tell me that you're just tired, or that you're just having a bad day, but what you don't seem to understand here is that I know better." I looked him straight in the face, for the first time that day, he looked sure of something. "I can see it in your eyes, sis, you're not okay. You're about as far from okay as I have ever seen you, and you won't let me help you.. The nightmares, and the drinking - you're supposed to be the happy one here."

I shook my head, I couldn't handle this. I didn't know what to say to him, I didn't know how I could make him understand what I didn't even understand myself. "I am not having this argument, Dean." I muttered, heading away from him towards the street. "Not again."

"Maxine." That stopped me dead in my tracks. If he was calling me Maxine, he meant business. "Don't you dare," He added quietly. "You're not going anywhere until we've sorted this out."

I turned back to him, shrugging my shoulders slightly. "What is there to sort out?" I asked, my voice quieter than I'd wanted it to be. "I mean, really, what is the point?" Dean frowned, like he was unsure what I meant. "I just, I don't want to do it anymore, Dean. I'm tired of watching people die, of not being able to save them - I'm sick of this job, the weight that comes with it. It's not fair. Everything that this job has cost us, you know - Mom, Dad, Sam, they didn't deserve any of this. And after what happened, I'm scared that the next time it's gonna be you that leaves." Tears were falling down my cheeks now, my voice hardly a whisper.

Dean took a step towards me, reaching out and resting a hand on my shoulder gently, bending down slightly to look me straight in the face. "Maxie," He began softly. "What are you talking about? You love this job, I know you do." He frowned a little, studying my face for an answer.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly. "I just, I can't find the energy to pretend like I care anymore. I feel like I'm drowning, Dean." I admitted as more tears rolled down my face, everything that I'd been keeping bottled up coming out. Dean looked a little confused by that, obviously unsure at what I meant. "I don't know how else to explain it, I just - I don't want to do it anymore." Dean didn't say anything, just looked at me, like he wanted me to just get it all out. "And that last hunt was so rough, the things that I did-"

"Maxie, how many times, kid, it wasn't you." He said softly. "That wasn't your fault, I don't know how many more times I can tell you that. You need to stop blaming yourself."

"I can't handle this job, this life, I mean, I know that it's supposed to be hard.. But lately, I just-" I paused and shook my head, my breath catching in my throat. "It's been a week, Dad's already bailed on us, and you-" I stopped and ran a hand over my face, I couldn't say anymore, I felt like I was about to break down, the tears falling freely.

Dean closed the gap between us, wrapping his arms around me tightly. My hands gripped the front of his shirt while I cried into his chest, unable to stop. I couldn't even remember what I was crying about anymore, but it was all coming out. All of the pain, the guilt, the fear, all of it. And I couldn't calm down. "Maxie," Dean pressed after a couple of minutes, his voice calm but I could hear the shakiness in his tone, he sounded like he was holding back tears of his own. "Please, just breathe, okay? I've got you, you're fine, just breathe.. I've got you."

I gradually began to calm down, my breathing evening out a little as my tears calmed. "Dean-" I began, my breath catching before I could get out anything else.

"Shh, you're okay." Dean reassured, his voice quiet. "I've got you, Maxie, I've got you." I breathed out deeply, my soft crying becoming quieter and slower until we were just stood there in the middle of the parking lot, Dean's arms wrapped around me protectively, my face buried in his chest. "I swear to you, no matter what, no matter what the hunt, or the monster, or whatever situation we end up in, whoever else comes and goes, it's always me and you, okay? To the end. I'm not going anywhere." He tightened his arms around me, breathing out deeply. "I need you to remember that, Maxie, please." I pulled back from him, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I didn't even understand this myself anymore, it just hurt. All of it. "Please, just go and talk to someone. Do it for me, yeah?" I looked up at him, seeing the desperation in his eyes. "I'm begging you here, please. I won't lose you, Maxie, not like this."

"Why the hell do you even care anymore, Dean?" I whispered. He looked a little taken aback by that, even I didn't know where any of this was coming from. I was a mess, I couldn't tell what I felt anymore, and feeling like I didn't have Dean in my corner anymore was pushing me over the edge. "I mean, I don't care anymore. I'm just way, way, way past caring about any of it." I could feel the tears in my eyes again.

Dean just looked at me for a few seconds. "Why do I care?" He repeated quietly, shaking his head at me. His face seemed to soften slightly, his voice remaining calm and quiet. "I'll tell you why I care, Max. Because I miss my little sister." His voice was gentle, his hands rested on my shoulders. "I miss the you who actually cared about the job, the you who woke up with a smile on her face, who used to skip around the motel room driving me insane because she thought that it was hilarious.. I miss the you who used to sing in the car, who used to wake up first thing in the morning to watch some stupid chick flick show she claimed she didn't like.. Maxie, the moods and the being down all the time, it isn't who you are." I looked up at him, tears falling silently down my cheeks. "Maxie, please. You're the one thing that I have here to brighten up my day, I can't take you being like this. It's just not you. And you won't let me help you. So let someone else help you.."

Ahh, this chapter nearly ended me to write, I've been doing it for like the past five hours! So, hope you liked it, and that we got to see more about Max and Dean's past, and how he got her to go and talk to a doctor.
Also, Sam and his visions - I'm really excited about getting further into the season and writing more about those!
I want to thank you all so much for the amazing reviews, favorites, follows, and the PM's, your support is truly amazing, and I love you all for reading! :-)