NIGHTMARE PART 3

When they saw Max again, he acted no different from when his father died. He was strangely detached, more than usual. And this behavior was odd enough to warrant Alice's suspicion.

"My Mom's resting. She's pretty wrecked," Max said as he led them into the living room.

The boys were dressed in their fake priest attire again, sitting on the couch as Max and Alice sat across from them. Alice glanced around the room and noticed a couple of foil-wrapped containers.

"Is that what all those are about?" Alice asked, gesturing over to the food.

Max nodded. "All these people kept coming with, like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know, 'cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole." He attempted to smile, which was assured by Alice's own smirk of acknowledgment.

"How you holding up?" Sam asked after a moment of awkward silence.

Max shrugged. "Ok."

"You're dad and your uncle were close?" Alice asked, crossing her legs. She was paying more attention to his reaction now.

"Yeah I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."

"But not lately much?" Sam interjected.

"No, it's not that. It's just...we used to be neighbors when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

Alice pressed the tips of her fingers together as she took her time absorbing Max's every word. How he said it, how his body twitched at specific phrases, and the cracking of his voice. All those were signs of stress and unease. Like a trigger, he had engrained in his brain to react to each time it was brought up.

"How was it in that house when you were a kid?" Alice asked carefully.

"It was fine. Why?" Max shrugged.

"All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?" Dean followed up, sensing Alice's careful questioning. He knew she was onto something and would have to ask about it later.

Max shook his head. He blinked rapidly as his sentences fractured with unease. "What do ya...why do you ask?"

"Just a question," Dean added.

Max's jaw tensed, and he started without blinking at the three of them. "No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy."

Even Dean could see that Max's answer was very tense, but he decided not to dig into it. "Good. That's good. Well you must be exhausted. We should take off."

As the boys got up, Alice reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. "Before we got. Max…can we exchange numbers?" she asked.

Max stood up too and narrowed his eyes with suspicion." Uh…sure, but why?" he said, pulling out his phone.

Alice didn't say anything at first, but her gaze slowly softened, mirroring her gentle tone. "You may not think it, but…we have a lot more things in common than you think. Some emotions are not meant to be bottled up." She raised her hand hesitantly before resting it on Max's shoulder. Luckily, he didn't flinch this time, and like before, he relaxed instantly under her rough hand. "If you're feeling any type of way…please call me," she said sincerely.

"That was weirdly nice of you." Dean teased as the three of them walked out into the street. "I expect that sorta thing from Sam, but not you."

Alice scoffed and reached up, patting Dean's back. "Controversy to popular beliefs, I can be sympathetic to a person's feelings." She took in a deep breath and glanced back at the Miller house. "But… Max's hiding something.

"You think it's safe to say that their family life was anything but happy?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded in agreement. "No one's family is totally normal and happy. See when he was talking about his old house?"

"He sounded scared," Sam pointed out, glancing over to Alice, who nodded.

"Yeah Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."

"Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Sam asked an older man.

After doing some digging, Alice and the boys located the old neighborhood Max and his family grew up in. They tracked down one of their elderly neighborhoods and tagged him while he was outside in his front yard.

The old man nodded in his head affirmingly. "Yeah, almost 20 years now. It's nice and quiet. Why? You looking to buy?"

"No, no, actually, we were wondering if you recall a family that used to live right across the street."

Alice nodded. "Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max."

The old man took a moment to recall, and soon, clarity flickered across his eyes. "Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. So uh, what's this about, is that poor kid ok?"

Alice crinkled her brow and felt a bad feeling bubble in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in my life, I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of."

Alice felt her jaw tighten and her fingers clench. She should have been shocked to hear this, but the signs were all there. Still, it didn't make her feel any better. It just made her feel sick.

Sam asked. "This was going on regularly?"

"Practically every day. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy but the worst part was the step-mother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

This was the only thing that caught Alice off guard. "Wait, step-mother?"

The old man nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "I think his real mother died. Some sorta...accident. Car accident I think."

Sam grimaced a little but for different reasons. He placed his hand against his head and groaned a little, starting to feel a headache come on. This time, Alice and Dean were quick to notice this. Dean grabbed Sam's arms and pulled him away.

"Thanks for your time," Alice said to the old man before turning around and jogging off to catch up to Sam and Dean.

Sam's headache was getting worse, and a vision started to manifest again. Like last time, this was intense, too. Vivid and filled with visceral emotions.

He saw Max and his step-mother. They were both in the kitchen as she chopped vegetables with a large knife. Max was accusing her of doing nothing to stop the relentless beatings that were inflicted on him by his father and uncle.

The ugly, harsh emotions were written all over Max's face as he eyed his step-mother with pure hate and disdain. He glanced at the knife lying on the counter, staring at it hard as it began to shake. It started to levitate off the counter, but only momentarily. Max gasped sharply and knife clattered onto the floor before his mother noticed anything wrong

Max said nothing more to his mother before turning around and walking away. His face contorted with various raw emotions, coming close to the verge of tears. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. At that time, the vision faded away.