Disclaimer- I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

I have decided not to write Route 666. I hate Cassie, and I wasn't looking forward to it anyway. And every writer knows that when you don't enjoy putting up a chapter, it's going to turn out pretty bad.

Slight angst involved. And a tiny little clue or two about Odette. Are you smart enough to pick it up?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

ccgnme- Thank you!

Garideth- One has to do Sam justice! Boyish Sammy was just amazing!

Chapter name borrowed from Sonic Syndicate. Hmm…. Sonic Syndicate….. quite catchy, isn't it?

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- ENHANCE MY NIGHTMARE

I curled up on the armchair, watching the Winchesters sleep.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched Sam toss fretfully on his bed.

Nightmares.

I contemplated waking him up, but decided against it.

They both needed their rest.

I just wished I could get mine.

My efforts to let him sleep were wasted, as Sam started up from his bed, wide awake and clearly unsettled.

He sat for a moment, and then flipped on the lights, blinking at me confusedly.

"Why weren't you asleep?" he regarded me, eyes warm and concerned.

I couldn't help but smile.

"Same reason you're up, I guess," I shrugged.

"I doubt it." He laughed sourly, glancing at my PJ'S. "Get dressed. We're leaving."

I stared at him. "What for?"

"I'll tell you later."

He shook a peacefully sleeping Dean persistently.

"Dean. Dean."

The moment he stirred, Sam rose and gathered his things.

Dean knuckled his eyes. "What are you doing, man? It's the middle of the night."

He raised himself on his elbows.

"We have to go." Sam shouldered his knapsack.

Dean was immediately alert. "What's happening?"

Sam paced the floor. "We have to go. Right now."

~Supernatural~

I rested my head against the upholstery of the Impala, listening to Sam on the phone.

"McReady. Detective McReady. Badge number 158. I've got a signal 480 in progress; I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate, Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven. Yeah, OK, just hurry."

Dean slowed the car slightly. "Sammy, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

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

"I mean it," Dean insisted. "Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare."

I smiled into the leather upholstery.

"This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see. 'Sides, kid's dead on her feet. Not to mention I could've done with a few more hours myself."

"It is not a dream." Dean nearly crashed the car as Castiel appeared.

I smiled, genuinely pleased to see him.

"Stop poofing everywhere, goddamn it, Castiel!" Dean gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam and I greeted him politely.

"Hello."

Dean coughed, glancing at the angel in the backseat.

"Uh, yeah. About saving me back there. Thanks, man"

"You're welcome." Castiel fixed his blue eyes on Dean.

He turned to stare at me. "It seems you are prone to insomnia."

I could literally feel Dean's smirk on me.

"No, Castiel, nothing like that."

Guilt ruins everything, Castiel.

I could've sworn he knew what I was thinking.

Sam's phone rang.

"Yes, I'm here."

He listened, glared at Dean, and picked up a pen. "Jim Miller. Saginaw. Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks."

He hung up. "Checks out. How far are we?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "From Saginaw? Coupla hours."

Sam clenched his hands.

"Drive faster."

~Supernatural~

The Impala cruised to a stop. The emergency vehicles completely surrounded Jim Miller's house. Someone was being zipped into a body bag.

We were too late.

Castiel surveyed the scene dispassionately.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

Sam was upset, I could tell.

We approached the watching crowd.

"What happened?" Dean asked a pale, nervous woman.

Sam came up and stood on the woman's other side.

"Did you know them?"

I chose to hang back, weary.

Castiel remained half-hidden in the shadows, silent and watchful.

"Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustines. He always seems…" She turned paler.

"Seemed so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

Most people never did.

Dean stared straight ahead. "Guess not."

"How did…ahh. How are they saying it happened?"

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

"Do you know about what time they found him?"

"Oh, it just happened about an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

I could.

This was a familiar scene.

A blonde woman stood on the front step of the house, leaning against a middle-aged man, crying unrestrainedly. My heart twisted, and I averted my eyes.

Castiel zeroed in to the distraught young boy with curly hair, eyes dull and hooded.

The only difference was before; I hadn't been an outsider commiserating for someone else, well meaning, and yet clueless.

Castiel's gaze shifted from the boy to me.

Sam watched for a second, grimacing, and turned to walk away.

Dean noticed, and followed him to the Impala.

We leant against the bonnet.

It was a heavy, despondent silence.

"Sam, we got here as fast as we could," Dean said quietly.

"Not fast enough," Sam returned bitterly. It doesn't make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

"I dunno." Dean gave a non-committal grunt.

"Sam," I didn't know whether this would be welcome, but I went for it, nonetheless.

Castiel's eyes flashed to my face.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam. Getting guilty over something you couldn't control isn't going to do you any good."

Dean eyed me oddly.

"It's probably not my place, but trust me. Your life is hard enough already, this'll only make it worse."

I looked directly ahead at the gloomy house. Misery hung over it like a foul cloud of miasma.

"Take it from someone who knows."

~Supernatural~

Sam sighed, glancing at his slicked-back, unusually neat hair.

"This has gotta be a whole new low for us."

Dean smirked at him.

I straightened Sam's jacket a tad and fought a smile.

"I am opposed to the idea of you dressing as priests. They try and spread God's message. You," a pointed look, "are not."

My lips twitched.

Castiel's tone was slightly offended.

"Tough luck, pretty boy. Just stay with the kid."

The door clicked shut.

I curled up onto the nearest bed, conscious of Castiel's cool, impersonal presence in the room.

"Odette."

My eyes fluttered open.

"Yeah?"

"I read thoughts."

"What?"

I was off the bed in an instant.

Panic flew through me, instinctive and strong, almost instantly chased by despair.

The ringing in my ears didn't stop.

"Then you know." I sat back down on the bed.

Waiting.

Waiting for his condemnation.

Murderer. Monster. Demon.

His answer surprised me.

"No, I do not."

I raised my head, silently wishing for a reprieve.

"I did not wish to intrude more than I already have."

My heartbeat slowed, and I relaxed slightly.

"Let it go, Odette. It wasn't your fault."

Castiel's face was grave.

"How would you know?" I blinked away my tears.

I'd cried enough for a lifetime.

"I know when a person is guilty. Your perception of matters does not change that."

Perhaps. But even he could not understand.

"You don't know how to feel, Castiel. Maybe then you'd understand."

I received no response.

~Supernatural~

Dean mechanically cleaned his weapons, while Sam sunk onto the hotel bed.

"What do you guys have?" I asked tentatively.

"A whole lotta nothing," Dean grumped.

"Nothing bad has ever happened in the Miller house since it was built." Sam seconded his statement.

"You are looking in the wrong place," Castiel offered.

Dean took off one of his boots and stared at it.

For a second, I thought he might throw it at Castiel.

"Gee, thanks, Castiel. Mind not being such a Yoda?"

Castiel tilted his head to one side, eyes wide and curious.

"What is a 'Yoda'?"

Dean hurled his boot at the wall.

~Supernatural~

"Sam? Sam!" I shook him as he clawed at his head desperately.

"Dean!"

The bathroom door flung open, and Dean stepped out in an instant.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean demanded.

Sam sunk to the floor. "Ahh. My head."

His eyes unfocused and both of us crouched down next to him.

"Sam?" If it were anyone else, I'd say Dean's tone was gentle. "Hey." He grabbed his arms.

"Hey! What's going on? Talk to me."

Sam vaulted off the floor with a gasp, still clutching his head.

He looked at us, pupils dark and dilated.

"It's happening again. Something's going to kill Roger Miller."