Nightmare

"You're not gonna sleep?" Dean mumbled from next to me.

"I wanna finish typing this." I pushed my glasses back up my nose.

"What even is that?" He squinted, lifting his head a little. He'd tucked his head against my hip and wrapped his arms around my hips.

I shut the laptop screen halfway and frowned. "Don't go sneaking on a woman's laptop."

"There's nothing for you to hide." he snorted. He yawned.

"Go back to sleep." I ran my hand through his hair.

He hummed in pleasure. His shoulders slowly went slack with sleep and his arms turned into protective dead weights around my waist. I leaned down to kiss the wrinkles on his forehead away. Didn't want him to look like an old man. I continued typing on my laptop. Things were starting to get interesting.

Sam suddenly jerked violently on the other bed. I glanced at him. Had it just been a hypnic jerk? Or was he actually struggling?

I gave him a few minutes. He kicked his leg out again and his hands clutched at his chest. Okay, that wasn't a hypnic jerk.

"Sam?" I called from the bed. I put my laptop down and removed Dean's arms. "Sammy." I said again. He continued gasping for air. "Sammy, wake up." I shook his shoulder. "Sammy!"

His eyes snapped open and his hands swung out to push me onto the floor. I landed with a grunt when my head hit the side of the bed. "Ouch!" I hissed. I felt around for any blood, but there was none. Good. "Sammy?" I looked up at the tall man who was looking around frantically.

"Sammy!" Dean said. His voice was groggy but firm. "Focus!"

I sat up straight on the musty motel floor. Dean tugged on my arm to pull me up. I sat down on the bed and let Dean take over the confused Winchester.

"Sammy, you have to tell us. Is something wrong?"

Sam gasped for breaths and swallowed dryly. "We have to go."

"What?"

"We have to go. Right now." Sam repeated. He leapt out of bed and grabbed his bags. "Come on! Now!"

Dean and I followed him. Was it another nightmare? Another vision?

Dean and I very illegally split the lane between us. The slightest bit of movement and the side of Baby would ram me off the road, but the two of us decided it was better to keep an eye on Sam.

Sam finished his conversation with the person on the other side of the phone. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks."

He turned to talk to Dean. "Checks out. How far are we?"

"From Saginaw? Coupla hours." Dean answered.

Sam turned back to me. "Can you keep up?"

I gave him a thumbs up. "I'll be right behind y'all."

Dean cursed under his breath when we finally entered Saginaw. There was a bunch of police cars and emergency services surrounding a house.

Sam checked the address and compared the number against the number on the garage of the house. They were the same.

"Stay with him." Dean whispered to me.

I nodded and walked behind Sam as he slowly made his way to the crowd.

Dean was already asking the crowd for information. "What happened?"

"Suicide. Can't believe it." a woman answered.

Sam steeled his shoulders, and asked. "Did you know them?"

"Saw him every Sunday at St Augustines. He always seems… seemed, so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors." the woman wiped a tear.

"Guess not." Dean watched the responders zip up the body in a body bag and take it away.

"How did… uhh. How are they saying it happened?" Sam whispered.

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

"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."

A woman and man held onto each others and cried. Sam winced at the sight and turned back around.

"Sam." I followed him. I could hear Dean's heavy footsteps behind me. "Sam, this isn't your fault. We got here as fast we could."

Sam whipped around with his brows pulled together. "Not fast enough. It doesn't make any sense. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

I asked myself that everyday. What was the point of me being here if I couldn't save anyone? "I don't know." I answered. It was the truth. "We just have to do our best. And that's what we did."

Sam shook his head, rejecting my answer. "No, there has to be a reason." He paced around the Impala. "So what do you think killed him?"

Dean answered this time. "Maybe the guy just killed himself? Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."

"I'm telling you man, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."

Dean kept his voice steady. "What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?"

"I don't know what it was." Sam's voice rose in pitch and grew more frantic. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening."

"Sammy," I grabbed his arm. "Breathe."

"I am!" he tried to force his arm away.

I held on tighter. "Slowly. You're gonna pass out and be of no help if you don't. So breathe slowly." I slowed my breathing and forced Sam to look me in the eyes. Slowly, his breathing steadied and the muscles where I was holding him grew less tense. "Good. you did good." I patted his arm before letting go.

Sam scowled. "Tell Dean to stop looking at me like that."

"What?" Dean frowned. "I'm not looking at you like anything." He looked away, but his eyes flickered back to Sam. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."

"Nice." Sam scoffed. "Thanks."

Dean opened the car door. "Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, talk to the family."

Sam held his arm in the direction of the man and woman still sobbing on the front step. "Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us."

"Disguise time?" I asked.

Dean grinned. "Oh yeah. You and I are gonna love this one."

"Oh my God." Sam muttered.

"Hey, Sharon?"

I let Dean press his chest against my back, the two of us facing Sam moving restlessly in his bed. "Hm?"

"He's not gonna get any sleep like that." He whispered.

"Should I… read him a book? Lullaby?"

"I'm not a baby." Sam grunted from his bed. "You two go to sleep. I just… need a minute."

"Clearly you're not gonna sleep." Dean pushed himself up and flipped the bedside lamp on. "Beer?"

Sam glanced at me as if asking for permission. I shrugged. "You're not a kid. You're legally allowed to drink now."

Sam held out his hand as Dean passed him a bottle, taking one for himself. "Cheers to another sleepless night."

Sam chugged it down quick, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning against the headboard. Dean sat beside him, his own bottle still in hand. I grabbed a book and settled in next to him.

"I told you I'm not a baby." Sam insisted.

"Mhm." I opened up the book to a random page and started reading.

It didn't take long for Sam to start nodding off. Dean expertly helped his body onto the bed in a more comfortable sleeping position.

"'Night Sammy." he pulled the covers up to his chin.

Dean and I got back to our own bed and ducked under the covers. I flicked the light switch off, drowning the three of us in darkness.

"And you're okay?" Dean whispered.

"I'm fine." I pressed my nose against his chest. He smelled like cheap motel soap from his shower, but it was comforting.

"He's talking like you did."

"When I first got here? Yeah," I gripped Dean's large arms. They were solid, grounding. He held me tighter. "We're gonna get through this. We always do." But things were starting to fall apart.

"Where's my nun head cover thingy!" I shrieked when it wasn't with the rest of my black outfit.

"The word you're looking for is veil." Sam provided. Uselessly.

"I'm trynna find something important here!"

"Check in Dean's underwear pocket!"

"Dude, there's like three fraying pieces of fabric in that pocket– oh. EW." I gingerly plucked out my veil from the threadbare boxers. "I have to put this on my head?"

"They were clean, sweetheart." Dean chimed from the bathroom.

"Shave faster!" I snapped.

"Just change in here!"

"Never!"

An hour later, we were ringing the doorbell of the house where the man had died.

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

Dean simply gave Sam a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows in my direction.

A man opened the door, glaring at the three of us.

"Hello," Dean said with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"We're very sorry for your loss." Sam offered.

"It is during these difficult times that we must have faith in the Lord." I closed my eyes as if praying. Man, this religious stuff really wasn't for me.

"Look, you wanna pitch your whole 'Lord has a plan' thing? Fine." The man heaved angrily. "Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."

I completely understood the man.

"Roger. Please!" the woman, Ms. Miller I assumed, gasped. She gave us a tear filled apologetic look. "I'm sorry about my brother in law. He's… he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

I was going to say no need, but Dean was already accepting the offer.

"That would be great."

Dean Winchester and his bottomless stomach.

"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now." Ms. Miller whispered.

"Of course, Ms. Miller." I gave her a polite smile.

"After all we are all God's children." Dean too, smiled.

The woman stood up when someone called for her. "Please, help yourselves." she pushed the bowl of sausages in our direction before leaving us.

Dean didn't miss a beat and started shoving a handful into his mouth. Sam and I both frowned. He made a 'what' motion with his hands. I slapped his hand away from reaching for another fistful.

Sam shook his head. "Just… tone it down a little bit, Father."

Dean wiped his hand on his robe at the sound of footsteps. "So Ms Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?"

"Nothing like that." Ms. Miller's lip started trembling. "We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy." She burst into tears. "I just don't understand… how Jim could do something like this."

"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that." Sam said gently.

Ms. Miller gestured to behind her where a thin pale boy was rocking himself on a chair. "Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him."

I knew this scene. I knew this episode. The kid was a psychic. He was going to kill himself. And Sam would find out about the other kids that had demon blood dripped into their mouths. My heart started racing. How was I supposed to help here? I barely remembered any of the details. Just that the uncle died. The kid was abused. And that the kid would try to kill everyone in his family and then himself, and would actually succeed in suicide.

"Sister," Dean's voice snapped me back to reality. "Your coffee is going cold."

I looked at the cup in front of me. "Thank you, Father."

"Of course." Dean turned his attention back to the woman. "Ms. Miller, you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?"

"We moved in about five years ago."

"The only problem with these old houses. I bet you have all kinds of headaches."

Ms. Miller looked confused. "Like what?"

"Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night. That kind of thing."

"No, nothing like that. It's been perfect."

"Huh." Dean looked around. "May I use your restroom?"

"Oh, sure. It's just up the stairs."

I was too out of it to even frown at Dean when he grabbed another sausage from the bowl before walking out. But we had a job.

I had nothing to say, so I said the only thing I could think of. "The Lord is always with you. God is good." the words that had been uttered to me so many times in my life. "God will guide you through your tough times. You just have to believe in him. Have faith."

"Yes, sister." Ms. Miller sobbed. "Yes, sister. God is good. God is good." she repeated over and over again, until her tears stopped. "Thank you, sister."

"Of course, Ms. Miller. Stay strong."

"Yes, yes…"

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Sam wrapping up his conversation with the boy. "I'm afraid we must go. There are… candles to be lit."

"Of course, sister. Thank you so much for stopping by."

"If you don't mind, I would like to go and see if Father has gotten lost." I lowered my head and walked up the stairs.

Sam followed behind me with a firm nod.

We bumped into Dean right at the landing. "Anything?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Zip."

I read through the final article available online. Nothing. I looked up from my laptop. Dean was wiping down the parts of all our guns on the table. Sam entered the room, looking exhausted.

"What do you have?" Dean asked, not looking up.

"A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built."

"Same here." I stretched out my back.

"What about the land?" Dean peered through the barrel before vigorously cleaning the inside again.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

"Same." I chimed again.

"Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent." Dean clicked his tongue. "Nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?" Sam sank onto his bed.

"Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infrared thermal scanner man, and there was nothing."

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?"

"I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."

"Sharon." Sam looked at me with those puppy eyes. "What do you think? You've seen this show before. What is happening to me? I–" he rubbed his temples.

I couldn't say anything. "Sam, I'm sorry." My heart broke for the large man that was starting to break down.

"No, no. It's alright. You-you're not to blame for any of this." He inhaled sharply. "Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe it's just… Gosh." He clutched his head.

"Sam?" I walked over to him.

"I'm fine– maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?" He was suddenly off the bed and crouching on the floor.

Oh no. "Sam!" I knelt down next to him. Was this another vision?

Dean rushed over, holding his brother up. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded.

"My head." Sam grunted in pain.

"Get him onto the bed." I told Dean.

The two of us helped him up. Sam immediately curled into a ball on the bed, with his shoes on. No matter, we could get new sheets.

"Sam? Hey," Dean gripped Sam tightly. "Hey! What's going on? Talk to me!"

Sam made no coherent answer, just pained noises.

"Sam, look at me." I tapped his cheek. "Sam, you're here with us. You're safe. Focus. Focus on me!" His big hazel eyes were wide and full of fear when they met mine. I swallowed.

"That's it, Sammy. Keep your eyes on her." Dean patted his shoulder. "You're doing good."

We gave him a couple of minutes to reorient. He suddenly gasped, doubling over even more.

"Whoa, Sammy." Dean pulled Sam back on the bed before he could fall over.

"Welcome back." I brushed the damp hair from his sweaty forehead. "What happened?"

Sam pushed himself up shakily. Dean pulled back once he was sure Sam was steady on his own.

"Thanks." he panted.

"What happened?" Dean asked a little more urgently. "Talk to us, Sam."

"It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

We piled into the car. We sent Sam to the back, in case he had another vision and needed to lie down. But he seemed to be running pretty good on adrenaline. He was currently on the phone getting the address of Roger Miller.

"Roger Miller. Ah no no, just the address please. Ok, thanks." Sam muttered into the phone. I turned my head to the back to keep an eye on him. He was still holding and nursing his head, but he didn't look like he was gonna faint. "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120." Sam finally said.

"I'll put that into the GPS." I started typing it out. "Take a left from here."

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror worriedly. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"If you're gonna hurl I'll pull the car over." He paused before deciding to add onto the sentence. "Cause the upholstery…"

"I'm fine." Sam snapped.

"Stop lying." I told him. "I know what this feels like. Not what exactly you're going through, but I've been in this position. Hell, I still am. So talk. It helps."

Dean gave me a look that said hypocrite.

Sam looked away and sighed heavily. "I'm scared. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."

"Come on man, you'll be alright. It'll be fine." Dean comforted.

His voice was strong and commanding. Something told me that those words weren't just for Sam.

"What is it about the Millers. Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?" Sam rambled. "Sharon, you know about this. Please, tell me. Something, anything. Just a sign that- that I'm– I don't know. Just say something. Say you know how this ends."

I did know how this ended. It didn't end well. Supernatural had never been a comedy even with all the ridiculousness. I couldn't speak, I couldn't say the words he wanted to hear. "I'm sorry, Sam." And I truly meant it. "It's-it's- you–" I couldn't even get past the first syllable.

Dean placed a hand on my thigh and took over. "I don't know Sam but we'll figure it out. We've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing." Dean squeezed my leg in a comforting manner. I exhaled slowly.

"No. It's not just another thing. It's never been us. I mean Sharon with her telekinesis- and now me? It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out."

Dean's vice-like grip tightened further on my thigh. He needed comfort just as much as I did. I placed a hand on his and threaded our fingers together. We could get through this.

Dean took another moment. "It doesn't freak me out."

The whites of his knuckles said otherwise.

Roger, the man from yesterday and the brother of the first victim was walking into his apartment, his arms full of groceries.

"Hey, Roger!" Sam leaned out of the window to call out.

"What are you guys? Missionaries?" Roger spat. "Leave me alone."

"Roger!" Sam yelled after the man, but he had already disappeared into the apartment building.

Dean pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Sam and I exited the vehicle and ran upstairs.

"We have to save him." Sam mumbled over and over again.

"We do." My legs ached as I tried to keep up with Sam.

By the time we managed to get to Roger's apartment, he had already locked the door behind him with absolutely no intention of opening the door back up. What else could we do?

"Roger! We're not priests! You have to listen to us!" Dean yelled. I jumped. I hadn't even noticed him walking up behind us. "Dammit! Back entrance!" Dean barked.

Sam and I followed his lead to the fire escape. Dean took a quick look around before ramming his leg into the door. The locks fell apart easily and the three of us ran in.

I was out of breath already. I panted against the railing while Dean went past me. Curse my lack of exercise.

"Come on, come on." Dean muttered. We were just three floors up. Roger lived on the third floor.

Everyone paused, however, when a loud squelch echoed through the apartment building. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. Roger was dead, rendered headless by a fricking window.

Dean pushed on the middle of my shoulder. "We have to go." He ran a handkerchief over the spot where I had been holding onto the rails. "We can't get caught by the police."

"I'm fine." I batted Dean's hand away from my shoulder. "Go get Sammy." He probably needed more support than Dean right now, anyway. I'd dealt with this before. I was gonna be fine.

He didn't miss a beat, keeping a hand on his brother's shoulder and guiding him down. Sam shuffled into the backseat and I slid into the passenger's side. As Dean pulled out of the parking lot, I got an eyeful of Roger's head amongst the daisies of the flowerbed below. His lifeless eyes stared back at me. I wanted to throw up.

"We couldn't save him either." Sam gasped from the backseat. "He's dead. I couldn't save him."

"Me neither." I leaned against the seat and ran my hands over my face. They came back sweaty. It never got easier, did it?

Dean sighed as he repeated once again. "I'm telling you there was nothing in there. No signs either, just like the Miller's house."

"I saw something, in the vision. Like a dark shape." Sam continued to insist. "Something was… something was stalking Roger."

"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?"

"No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?"

Deann nodded. "Well yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."

"Angiak. Banshees." Sam provided. He was wrong.

"Basically like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy."

Oh for sure. Like the abuse of Max. but it wasn't a spirit doing the harming, it was Max himself.

"And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying." Sam looked at me for confirmation. Well, I couldn't give him anything. He suddenly turned to Dean. "Hey, you think Max is in Danger?"

"Let's figure it out before he is."

"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people."

"What's that?" Dean tilted his head.

"Both our families are cursed."

Dean huffed. "Our family's not cursed. We just… had our dark spots."

"Our dark spots are… pretty dark." Sam's lips were starting to tug into a smile from Dean's exaggerated tone.

"You're…" Dean struggled to find the right words. "Dark." He settled on 'dark'.

I laughed at the sibling banter. My brother and I used to do the same thing.

"Hello again," I smiled when Max opened the door. "Is your mother home?"

"My Mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Max stepped aside to let the three of us in.

Max tried to joke. "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."

Sam smiled at Max, who smiled back.

Max motioned to the couch and we all took a seat. Max looked restless.

"How you holding up?" Sam broke the silence.

Max shrugged. "Okay."

"Your dad and your uncle were close?"

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

"But lately not much?"

"No, it's not that. It's just… we used to be neighbours 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."

"Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" Painful. The poor kid. I couldn't imagine the pain he went through.

"It was fine. Why?" Max's voice was defensive.

"All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?" Sam shut up. The kid was traumatised enough already. He didn't need the bad memories pulled up even further.

Max stiffened. "What do ya… why do you ask?"

"Just a question." Dean chimed.

"No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy."

I wondered if he knew his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Good. That's good." Dean turned to look at me and Sam. "Well you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right. Thanks." Sam and I nodded at Max and left the house.

We stood by the Impala, getting ready to discuss Max's odd answers.

Dean started the conversation. "No one's family is totally normal and happy. See when he was talking about his old house?"

Sam nodded in agreement. "He sounded scared."

"Yeah Max isn't telling us everything." Dean opened the door to the car. "I say we go find the old neighbourhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."

Very conveniently, there was a man mowing his lawn on the front yard right when we rolled into the neighborhood.

"Have you lived here long?" Sam called out to the man.

"Yeah, almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"

Sam was shockingly good at starting conversations for someone who I considered a nerd like myself.

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

"Yeah the Millers." Dean provided. "They had a little boy called Max. Sam nodded in support.

The man thought for a moment. "I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about. Is that poor kid okay?"

Sam gave us a glance. "What do you mean?"

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

The poor kid. He didn't deserve any of it. Adults sucked sometimes. And I was suddenly glad I had helicopter parents who always treated me like a fragile vase rather than a punching bag.

Sam's voice was low. "This was going on regularly?"

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

Yeah, the system kinda sucked. They even did more harm than good to some kids.

"Now, you say stepmother." Dean mentioned.

"I think his real mother died. Some sorta… accident. Car accident I think." Wait, not a house fire? Was I forgetting that much of the show? I was pretty sure Max's mom burned on the ceiling with her stomach sliced open too.

Sam gave a small groan of pain. "Sam?" I held a hand up to steady him. His larger body stumbled and it took almost all my strength to hold him up.

"Is he okay?" The neighbor asked worriedly.

"Yeah, sorry. He struggles with migraines." I lied. "Let's get you in the car. Thank you so much." I told the neighbor.

Dean took over supporting Sam. "Thank you for your time."

"Yeah, thanks." Sam grunted. "God."

I opened the car door for Dean to help Sam inside. He helped him lie down on the backseat and I lifted his head enough to push my flannel under his head to act as a cushion. Dean and I remained close, as Sam took agonizing breaths.

Dean sped down the road. I glanced at the speedometer. 55 mph, and we were in a 35.

"Max is doing it." Sam said from the backseat. "Everything I've been seeing."

"You sure about this?" Dean glanced back.

"Yeah, I saw him."

"How's he pulling it off?"

"I don't know, telekinesis?"

Dean's green eyes locked onto mine. Was he thinking I could go crazy? Unfortunately that was a valid concern. I was worried about it myself. I'd tried to keep using my abilities to a minimum for that very reason. Only if the situation required it.

Dean looked back at the road. "Like Sharon?"

"Stronger." Sam sighed. "I didn't even realise it but this whole time he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, outside the apartment when his Uncle died. These visions,this whole time. I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. Cause I don't connect to Sharon in the same way. But maybe I guess because Max and I are so alike?"

Dean stiffened behind the wheel. "What are you talking about. Dad never beat you. The dude's nothing like you."

"I didn't mean about Dad. We both have psychic abilities, we both…" Sam looked weakly at me.

"Both what?" Dean snapped. "Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third."

Sam frowned. "Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry but it doesn't sound insane."

"Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family!"

"Dean," I said gently. "I agree with Sam. He's been through a lot."

"No," Dean's jaw was set when he pulled over at Max's house. "He's no different from anything else we've hunted. Alright? We gotta end him."

No, we could save Max. I knew he committed suicide. If I used my own powers then maybe I could save him.

"We're not going to kill Max." Sam insisted.

"Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up, officer he kills with the power of his mind'." Dean glared.

"No way. Forget it." Sam shook his head. Dean killed the engine. I got out and helped Sam back up on his feet. His legs were slightly wobbly, but he managed to steady himself. "Dean, he's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."

Dean thought for a long moment. "All right, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."

"Me neither." I squeezed Sam's hand. "Sam, we're gonna make sure everyone's safe."

He nodded. "Thanks, Sharon."

We barged in. "You didn't stop them, not once!" Max was yelling.

"Fathers?" The woman in the room looked shocked at us. "Sister?" It took her a minute to recognise me without the habit.

"What are you doing here?" Max looked at us with his face blank.

"Uhh, sorry to interrupt." Dean said awkwardly.

"Hey, Max." I stepped up. "We wanna talk to your mom alone for a little bit."

"What? Why?" Max and the stepmother said at the same time.

"It's… it's private. We wouldn't want to bother you with it. And I think only your mother can help us with this."

"Okay then." Max said. I moved to help Ms. Miller out of the house, but suddenly the doorknob flew across the room and the blinds were forced shut. Dammit, something must have tipped him off. The guns in our pockets? Dean slammed against the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. Max had locked it with his powers.

"You're not priests, or nuns." Max's voice was threatening.

Dean drew his gun. But it did nothing. Max forced the gun out of Dean's hands and made it fly into his own hands, so that the barrel of the gun was facing me, Dean, and Sam instead.

"Max, what's happening?" Ms. Miller shook.

"Shut up." Max growled.

"What are you doing!" Ms. Miller cried.

"I said shut up!" Max sent Ms. Miller flying into a cabinet. Her head lurched forward from the forceful contact with the wood and she fell unconscious.

Was she still breathing? I strained my eyes to see. Her back rose and fell softly. She was still alive.

"Max, calm down." Sam held up his hands in defense.

"Who are you?" the kid demanded.

"We're here to help." I tried.

"Right. That's why you brought this!" he shook the gun around.

"That was a mistake all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max ok? Just please, hear me out." Sam pleaded.

"About what?"

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened."

"What?"

"I'm having visions Max. About you."

"You're crazy." Max's hands started shaking.

"So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam tapped the spot right between his eyes. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you."

No. That's not why Sam had been brought here. He'd been brought here to kill Max. but that was why I was here. To stop it. Right?

Max started crying. "No one can help me."

I softened my voice even more. "Max, we're going to try. It's gonna be just a talk. No weapons. No nothing."

"We'll get Dean and Alice out of here." Sam added.

"Nuh-uh no way." Dean immediately protested.

The chandelier began to shake. "Nobody leaves this house!" Max shrieked.

"Then no one has to." I kept my voice calm for the kid.

"They'll just… they'll just go upstairs." Sam gave Dean a look that said 'just trust me for once'.

But Dean was never one to back down easily. "Sam, Sharon. I'm not leaving you two behind."

Sam was quick to cut in. "Yes you are. Look, Max. You're in charge here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here man."

"Sharon!" Dean pleaded with me to convince his brother otherwise. But I agreed with Sam.

"No." I nodded my head towards the woman on the floor. "Take her up. We'll be right here."

Dean clenched his jaw tight, clearly not happy with the turn of events, but picked up the Ms. Miller and helped her up the stairs.

"Five minutes. That's it." Max snarled.

"Of course." I motioned to the couch. "I think sitting down will be a good idea."

I had to be strong. I couldn't break. Not even when Max was twirling a knife on the table without breaking a sweat. He was a considerably stronger telekinetic than I was. It must have been because of the demon blood.

"Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through." Sam started.

"That's right you can't." Max looked at us menacingly.

"Max, this has to stop."

"It will, after my stepmother…"

"No. You need to let her go."

Max looked genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Did she beat you?"

"No, but she never tried to save me, she's a part of it too."

"Max is right." I voiced my own opinions. "What she did was neglect. That is equally detrimental."

"Someone gets it." Max's lips twitched.

Sam sighed. "Yes, but what they did to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished…"

"Growing up?" Max laughed in disbelief. "Try last week." He lifted his shirt up to reveal bruises and cigarette butt burns all over his sides and chest.

"That is horrible." I muttered.

"I'm sorry." Sam too muttered in horror.

"My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard I guess." He pulled his shirt back down and looked at me and Sam dead in the eyes. "When I first found out I could move things it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week Dad gets drunk. The first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do." He had a crazed look in his eyes. It looked almost like Christopher. I swallowed dryly. Christopher wasn't here. Dean had shot him. There was no way he would have been able to track us to here.

"Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked.

"It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about… not being afraid. When my Dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

John Winchester never hated his sons. Disagreed with them, maybe, but never hate. Sam answered truthfully. "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death."

"Why would he blame you for your Mom's death?"

"Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault." Max scoffed.

"She died in your nursery?"

"There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!" He laughed without humor.

I knew it. She didn't die in a car accident. It was a house fire. Just like Sam's.

Sam's eyes widened. "Listen to me Max. What your Dad said, about what happened to your Mom. It's real."

"What?" Max almost laughed.

"It happened to my Mom too, exactly the Same. My nursery, my crib, my Dad saw her on the ceiling."

"Your Dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"And had the same hallucination as yours?" I pointed out. "Highly unlikely, Max."

"It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our Mothers."

"That's impossible." Max shook his head.

"This must be why I'm having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started 6-7 months ago right, out of the blue?"

Max turned to look at Sam slowly. "How'd you know that?"

"Cause that's when my abilities started Max. Yours seem to me much further along but still, this has to mean something right? I mean for some reason, you and I… you and I were chosen." Chosen to kill each other in a death match.

"For what?" a death match.

"I don't know. But Dean, Sharon, and I, my brother, sister, and I, we're hunting for your Mom's killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go Max. You gotta let your stepmother go."

Max thought for a moment but shook his head. "No. What they did to me. I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for that next beating. I'm so sick of being scared all the time, I just want this to be over!"

"It won't. Don't you get it? The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this. It's just, more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don't have to go through all this by yourself."

"I'm sorry." Max raised his hand.

I ran. I ducked out of sight behind the stair railings and forced my legs to go up. I could hear Sam let out a cry from shock and the slam of something. Dean, Alice. I had to get to them.

The two of them were surprised when I locked the door behind us. "Dean, weapons. Throw them." I patted him for any weapons. "Dean. Come on."

"And be defenseless against him?" Dean hissed.

"You have me." I reminded him. "I can protect us. I'm telekinetic, remember?"

"No." Dean stood up from where he was sitting with a cloth to Ms. Miller's forehead. "You know what it does to you. Headaches, nosebleeds, nausea, body aches–"

"I won't die from it. I think." I forced him to look at me. "Dean, I can do this. Just let me do this. Please. Let me protect you."

He grit his teeth. "Fine. But I won't let him hurt you. He still has a gun. If he tries to shoot you, I will protect you."

Right, Max still had the gun from earlier.

Just then, the door was thrown off its hinges. I grabbed Dean's shoulder and forced him behind me.

"Max." I looked at the boy with the calmest expression I could muster.

"Hi." He looked angrily at Miss Miller.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed when he realised Max was holding a gun.

I blocked her from his sight. "Max, let go of the gun."

"Like this?" Max made the gun float in the air.

That was not what I'd meant. But okay. But, no. "Max, we can't let you hurt her."

"Move. This isn't about you."

"You wanna hurt her. You'll have to go through me." Dean pushed me aside.

"Dean, no." I hissed.

The gun swiveled to position itself right between Dean's eyes. It cocked itself. "Okay." But his hands were shaking.

"No, don't! Don't!" Everyone in the room snapped their heads to see a panting Sam looking like he would collapse any moment. "Please. Please. Max. Max. We can help you. All right. But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything." He begged.

Max's face had tears streaming down them by the time Sam finished talking. "You're right."

Sam looked relieved. Then he shouted "No!"

The gun swung from facing Dean to facing Max. But not if I had any say. I forced the gun to the side, but Max was stronger, and the trigger was pulled anyway. It didn't hit anyone though. It just hit a wall. The gun clattered to the floor.

Max's eyes widened as he looked at me. "You." I stared back cautiously. "You're like me. You can move things." He looked around at Sam and Dean. "With your mind."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Max's knees went weak and he fell to the floor. He steeled himself. "But you're not going to stop me."

"Oh yes I will." I raised my hand and willed the window to shatter. The shattering noise only made the throbbing and white noise in my ears worse. But there would be no window to close if there was no window in the first place, right? I slid the gun back to myself and chucked it out the window. "One downside to telekinesis is that you can't control what you can't see." The gun fell through the window with a loud clang. Probably hit metal or something. "Max, we can get through this. No one has to die. Your mother- stepmother will be punished. Actually," I looked at her trembling curled up form on the bed. "I think she's already been punished. Killing her would just put her out of her misery. And if you yourself die. Then you'll never get to see the people who hurt you suffer." This was hardly a healthy way to cope. But that could be dealt with later. I blamed my lack of tact on the dizziness that was seeping into my head.

"But now I'll just be a minor in a foster home!" Max cried. "And those places are the worst!"

I shot Sam a look when he tried to open his mouth. "I know." I said slowly. "The system has failed you. It was never about saving the kids, it was always about having more power over the disadvantaged." But some foster homes were good. Though that wasn't what Max wanted to hear right now. "But you know what? You don't have to go to a foster home. You can just… float around."

"Float around?" Max clutched his head. "I won't have a home!"

"Your home life sucked. So make your own home. Run away!" I insisted. "Max, you can't just let go of your life! You've hung on for so long! Just a little bit more! You can help other runaways, you can do so much with your life!" Those lines were probably the cheesiest things I'd ever said. If someone ever told me that, then I would probably smack them in the face.

However, whatever kind of plot armor Chuck had given us, it was really strong plot armor. I was more surprised it worked on me. Considering I had scars everywhere, but Dean and Sam seemed to have very light ones - you would never find them unless you were specifically looking for them - and absolutely nothing marred their beautiful faces.

"Easy, easy." Dean's voice was firm when his fingers dug into my arm. Oh, I hadn't even realised that I was stumbling.

"Max, it's okay." Sam said gently and knelt next to the boy.

Max gave a whimpering nod and sat back. "What do I do?"

We got Alice to a hospital. She started talking about the truth despite us specifically telling her not to. About guns flying and Max and me having super powers or something. And then she said something about Max killing her husband and her brother in law like the snitch that she was when it came to her husband. She couldn't have snitched on her husband when Max was being abused? But obviously the paramedics just labeled her as crazy and dosed her up with some meds and shoved her into the ambulance.

"So…" Max breathed in shakily. "This is what you guys do? Deal with the supernatural?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

I tuned out of their conversation once I confirmed that they were just talking.

"Still bleeding?" Dean let go of the pinch he had on my nose.

I shook my head. "It's gone now." I could no longer taste the blood in my mouth either. "Dude, that sucked." I frowned. "It's like 11 from Stranger Things."

"What?"

I waved my hand. "TV show from the future."

"Headache?"

"None."

"Ears ringing."

"A little bit. But it could also just be the hum of whatever machine."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's get back to the motel. We'll leave as soon as we can." We spotted a few police officers looking at us in our direction. "Sam, Max. Let's go." Max picked up the bag he'd packed with the few things he'd wanted to take with him, and all the cash he could find littered around the house. And the four of us piled into the car.

It was a weird ride. Sam took his time explaining things to Max who looked like he wanted to pick up hunting, while simultaneously explaining that once you started hunting you never got back out. It was difficult to decide if Sam wanted Max to hunt or not.

"The overnight bus for Idaho leaves in ten." Dean parked Baby behind a bus that was rattling even in place.

Max stepped out with his bag swung over his shoulder. "Thanks." he nodded to us. He slowly turned to look at me. "Is it okay if I… call?"

"For?" Dean chimed immediately, leaning over my seat in a threatening manner.

I shoved my boot against his shin and he straightened back up with a small curse. "Yeah, sure. If you ever need any help."

Max nodded and turned around to head into the bus.

Dean, Sam, and I sat silently in the car, watching the bus rock to a start and somehow make it down the road, one rattly inch at a rattly time.

Sam was outside the motel room loading our bags in the car. I watched him work with a smile on his face from the window. He looked happy. That made me smile. Dean took the opportunity to sit across from me on the table.

"So…" He awkwardly made eye contact. "What's up?"

"Uh…" I frowned. What was he asking about? "The ceiling? The sky? Anything but my grades?"

"Grades?"

I shrugged. "I used to joke about that with my friends. What do you wanna know?"

He cleared his throat. "About… what happened. Sharon, it's been two months. And you haven't let me touch you."

I stopped typing. "I'm not in the mood. That's all."

"No, there's more to it." He sighed. "Look, I know you get riled up a week before your period during your-your- never mind."

"Yeah, like a disgusting horny rabbit." I muttered. I hated it when I felt that way.

"But my point is. It's been two months and I haven't seen you even read those nasty novels that are worse than cheap porn DVDs."

Right. Because everything reminded me of him. No matter how many times Dean kissed me or told me I was okay, the memories just wouldn't leave. "Sorry," I looked at him over the laptop screen. "I'm sorry Dean. I- I just– I can't. Not after what he-he did."

"You're safe." Dean clenched my hand. "You're safe here. With me. With Sammy– we would do anything to keep you safe."

"Is this about sex?" I tried to calm myself. "Is this because you need to-"

"No." he answered immediately. "Is that what you think this is about?"

"This?" I scoffed. "It's about you and little you down there."

"No." He was starting to frown. "This is about you. And you feeling comfortable. How little do you think of me?"

I looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, sweetheart." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "I just want you to understand that whatever happened, I got you. We got you." He always said that. And he was always right.

I wanted a hug. I pushed my chair back and walked over to Dean. He held out his arms as I took my place on his leg and curled against his chest. He placed a hand over my "I'm sorry." Apologizing felt weird. Like a punch to my useless ego. "I-I shouldn't have run out."

"And I shouldn't have said those things."

"Well it was my fault you landed in the hospital in the first place."

"If I hadn't missed, we wouldn't be here."

"I could also have not been caught by the thing you know."

"And I could have not left you alone to take all those kids out."

I frowned. "We're getting nowhere."

"You're right. This wasn't our fault."

"It kind of was. We're both idiots."

Dean smirked. "We're each others' idiots." His eyes lowered to my lips. The love and lust in his green eyes reeled me in. His eyes darted up to mine in question.

I really loved it when he asked. "Yeah,"

Before I could completely close my eyes, his mouth was on mine. God, he was so warm. His arms were strong as they held me close on his lap. His hands tangled up with my hair and I let myself sink further into his hold. "I'll protect you."

I hummed in response. "I can always come back?" It was a stupid question. I knew I could. But I needed to hear it.

He came down for another heated kiss.

"You're always welcome." He whispered against my lips. "I got you."

Yeah. That was Dean. For the first time in weeks I felt like happy crying. Dean was here with me. The muscles of his chest were taut as I clung onto him. I felt safe. His other hand trailed down to my hip, rubbing the dip in my thighs. This was why I liked him. He was always so gentle even though he was so strong.

We parted for another moment to catch our breaths before kissing again. I never thought I would be able to kiss someone with so much passion, but here I was. In the arms of Dean Winchester. Dean fricking Winchester. My hands went to the buttons of his flannel. I wanted his skin against mine. The warmth of him, to know it really was him. Was this what people felt when they said 'need to feel you' in the middle of kissing?

The door to the motel room opened. "I didn't offer to get the bags in the car so you two could fuck." Oh hell no, not again. I ducked in Dean's chest to hide from Sam. I was also pretty sure I was bright red.

Dean looked over my head to glare at Sam. "Shut up, Sammy."

"It's Sam. Sammy is a chubby twelve year old."

"He's also a 6 foot 4 freakish giant." Dean threw back.

"Um, Sharon." Sam said from the doorway. I lifted my head off Dean's chest. "Thanks for moving that cabinet."

"What cabinet?" Dean and I asked at the same time.

Sam paled. "You know- the cabinet that Max put against the closet. To keep me from escaping."

"Oh." Oh. Sam's powers were growing. "Yeah, sorry Sam."

Dean shifted under my hands. I dug my fingers into his flesh to keep him from saying anything.

"That was me, yeah." Sam relaxed at my words. "The memories are kinda fuzzy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. Having sex by a window will do that to you." I reddened again.

Dean let out an indignant huff. "We weren't having sex Sam. And we're all consenting adults here."

"There's no consent coming from me." Sam shook his head and walked out. "I'll give you guys a few minutes. Close the curtains!"

"A few minutes. Close the curtains." Dean mimicked Sam's tone. But he did go and close the curtains.

Once Sam was safely out of earshot I grabbed Dean by the shoulders. "Dean, listen to me."

"Whoa, whoa, sweetheart. You really wanna do this in a few minutes?" He smirked. "I've been tellin' ya, quickies are awesome."

"Dean." I hissed. "I didn't move that cabinet."

His face grew confused. "What do you mean?"

"The cabinet that was barricading Sam's door. I didn't move it." I lowered my voice, just in case the motel room walls were thin enough for Sam to hear. "Sam did."

Dean froze. "He's telekinetic too? Is that possible?"

I opened my mouth but the words wouldn't come out. "Dean, this is bad." I whispered to him. "Max was stronger than I was. Sam's stronger than he thinks he is."

"But he doesn't need to know." Dean sighed and leaned back against the chair.

"He'll panic if we tell him." The two of us had to keep it together. I shuddered. "Dean, we have to be strong."

"I know." But Dean's hands were shaking. "For Sammy."

"For Sammy." I repeated, keeping my tears at bay. I had to be strong. My job wasn't over just yet.

A/N: So this chapter turned out exactly as I'd wanted it to. Sorry for the late update. I just wasn't stressed enough the past few days to write fanfic. But o chem grades just landed and I got less than a 40% hahahaha. so yeah I'm stressed and started writing again. Did I mention I got 'saved' last week by a patient's family member? So I'm semi Christian now? He told me to get baptised cause I let Jesus into my life and needed to get the next key or smth but meh. BUT HEY, GUYS I TALKED TO HIM. not one on one there was another girl with us. BUT I TALKED TO HIM. HE DOESN'T EVEN REALISE I SIT ACROSS FROM HIM IN NEURO BIO LAB AND O CHEM LAB. IS HE BLIND. He said "Oh I think I see you sometimes." and then he asked "how was the neuro exam?" But oh well. he know I exist now. He doesn't know my name tho. I'll try talking to him again tomorrow during bio lab but idk we'll see. HALLELUJAH YALL HE'S SO FINE.