Visiting Smallville: 17a/21
The engine spluttered to a stop, and the driver twisted so that he was facing the backseat, gathering a few bags of shopping and attempting to pull them into the front. He paused, looking up as a squeak pierced through the silence. His eyes widened when he saw that the garage door had closed by itself, turning to quickly get out the car. Just as he reached the door handle, the car doors locked themselves, and no matter how much he pulled at the lock, they wouldn’t open. Panicking, he turned, watching as the key turned itself in the ignition and carbon monoxide began seeping into the car. Coughing, he tried once again to unlock the doors, but when that failed he struggled with the key, eventually managing to pull it out. The carbon monoxide was still pouring in, and with one final grasp at the door, the driver started screaming.
“Help! Somebody help me!” he yelled, pounding on the doors and windows until he had no more energy. With a final plead; he fell still in the front seat.
*
Sam’s eyes burst open and he sat up, panting and pulling the bed covers away. “Dean.” he murmured, trying to be quiet so as not to wake up the rest of the house. “Dean…” When his brother didn’t respond, Sam lumbered over to his bed and shook him, waiting until Dean groaned. Sam moved away, pulling a duffle bag from under his bed and throwing clothes into it.
“What are you doing?” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Sam zipped the duffle bag closed and tossed it to his brother, starting to pack another one. “We have to go.”
Dean grimaced. “What’s happening?”
“We have to go.” Sam repeated, slinging the other bag over his shoulder. “Now.”
Chloe lay in her bed, frowning as she heard the Winchester’s moving in their room. Staying quiet, she was able to hear the creak as the door opened and the slow footsteps in the hallway. Sighing, she got out from underneath the covers and padded over to the door, opening it and peering out sleepily.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, watching as Sam and Dean turned to her in shock. “You going out?”
“We’re going away.” Sam replied abruptly, starting down the stairs.
Chloe frowned as he walked away, turning instead to face Dean. “Dean, what’s going on?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.” he replied. “Maybe Sam had another strange dream. Anyway, it’s really freaked him out. I guess we’re going to check it out.” Chloe blinked, slowly absorbing what Dean had said. “We’ll be back.” Dean paused, looking at Chloe with concern. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” Chloe didn’t reply, causing Dean to grimace. “Chloe, maybe you should write this down. You look really tired and you don’t want to think you imagined us leaving.”
Chloe sleepily raised an eyebrow. “I won’t.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pushing Chloe gently back into the bedroom. “See you, Sullivan.” he whispered.
Chloe nodded at him as she climbed back into bed, shutting her eyes as Dean closed the door.
*
“McCreedy.” Sam stated, his mobile phone held up to his ear. “Detective McCreedy, badge number 15A. I need the registered owner of a two-door Sedan, Michigan license plate. Mike, Foxtrot, 6037.” Sam paused, watching the road in front of the Impala as the person on the phone told him that it would take a while. “Yeah, okay, just hurry.”
“Sammy, relax.” Dean murmured, frowning. “I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it.” You know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out, you’ll see.”
“It felt different, Dean.” Sam attempted to explain. “Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica.”
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, well, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?”
Sam paused, thinking for a second, before groaning. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. “But Dean, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Remember Jeremy Creek, Greg Arkin?” Dean started to answer but the person on the phone came back online and Sam concentrated on the information. “Yes, I’m here.” he muttered, shooting Dean an anxious look. “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?” Sam rifled through his pockets for some paper, hurriedly writing down an address. “Got it. Thanks.” He hung up, a stunned look on his face. “Checks out. How far are we?”
“From Saginaw?”
“Yeah.”
“Couple of hours.”
Sam grimaced. “Drive faster.”
*
“What happened?” Dean asked the woman standing by him.
He glanced round the house, taking in the photos of the family scattered along the windows and the tables. The woman turned to him.
“Suicide.” she murmured. “I can’t believe it.”
Dean watched as Sam sighed, guilt in his eyes. Dean grimaced, knowing that Sam blamed himself for not getting there in time. “Did you know him?” Sam questioned.
“I saw him every Sunday at St Augustine’s.” The woman replied. “He always seems… seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed door.”
“Yeah.” Dean mumbled. “I guess not.”
“How did they…” Sam swallowed. “How are they saying it happened?”
“I heard they found him in the garage.” The woman answered, her voice sharp. “Locked inside his car with the engine running.”
“Do you know what time they found him?”
“It happened about an hour or two ago.” The woman told them. “His poor family… I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.”
Sam frowned, glancing out the window, his face falling when he saw a woman sobbing on the front porch. Sam grimaced, striding out the house, his brother following him.
“Sam…” Dean murmured, watching his brother carefully as Sam slumped against the dashboard. “We got here as fast as we could.”
“Not fast enough.” Sam snapped. “It doesn’t make sense…why would I have these visions if I can’t stop them.”
“I don’t know.” Dean replied hesitantly. “When you saw Jeremy it was 12 years ago and with Greg… I think you saw it as it happened.”
Sam inhaled deeply, a distant look on his face. “So, what do you think killed him?”
“Maybe the guy just killed himself.” Dean told his brother. “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on.”
Sam groaned. “No, I saw it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. It trapped him in the garage.”
“Well, what?” Dean asked, worried. “A spirit, poltergeist, what?”
“I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I’ve been having these dreams.” Sam muttered, frustrated. “I don’t know what the hell is happening.”
Dean grimaced. “Maybe you’ve been around too many meteor rocks…”
Sam rolled his eyes, staring at his brother. “What?”
“Nothing.” Dean said, brushing aside his previous comment. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, don’t look at me like that.”
Dean shrugged innocently. “I’m not looking at you like anything. But, I have to say, you look like crap.”
“Nice.” Sam grumbled. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, well… come on, let’s pick this up in the morning, check out the house, speak to the family.”
“Dean, you saw them.” Sam protested. “They’re devastated. They’re not going to talk to us.”
“You’re right.” Dean admitted, a smirk spreading across his face. “But I think I know who they will talk to.”
*
Dean sniggered, waiting until Sam wasn’t watching to capture a picture on a phone and sending it to Chloe. Sam’s eyes widened at the quiet click of the camera and he glared at his brother, a blush crossing his face.
Both Winchester’s were dressed in long black vestments and a dog collar, their hair slicked back. Sam finally reached out for the doorbell, but paused when a small noise burst from Dean’s phone.
“Who did you send it to?” Sam snarled.
Dean chuckled, Sam snatching the phone from his hands before he could view the message. Sam’s eyes widened.
“Chloe?” Sam murmured. “You sent it to Chloe?” Dean nodded as Sam opened the message and started to read it aloud. “This is a new low.” He read. “Even for you.”
The door started to open and Sam tossed the phone back to Dean, who tucked it into his pocket. “Good evening.” Dean began, as the man in the doorway looked at the brothers in confusion. “I’m Father Simmons and this is Father Freyley. We’re the new junior priests over at St Augustine’s. May we come in?”
The man blinked.
“We’re very sorry for your loss.” Sam added.
*
Chloe sighed, leaning back against the picnic table and staring up at the sky. She smiled at the feel of the sun, glad that it was finally summer. She frowned as she felt someone sit next to her, turning to see Pete smirking at her.
“So, are you going to let me see what was on your phone?” Pete asked, reaching towards her pocket.
Chloe rolled her eyes, taking the phone away from Pete’s reach and flipping it open, grinning at the picture of the Winchester’s In priest costume that was the background on her phone. “Stop trying to steal my phone.” She snapped, joking. “Mrs Sykes just died, remember.”
Pete nodded, waiting for Chloe to be distracted by the approaching figure of Clark Kent, before pulling the phone from her hand and frowning at the picture in confusion.
“Chloe!” Clark called, and she waved to him, snatching the phone back from Pete with a glare. “I just got your note. I can’t believe it. I just saw Mrs Sykes yesterday.”
“I know.” Chloe told him, shifting along the bench and allowing Clark to sit next to her. “I’m sorry, Clark.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the official story is that there was some sort of fire…” Chloe told him, frowning. “But all they found were her ashes.”
“And the unofficial?”
“Spontaneous combustion.” Chloe answered quickly.
Pete sniggered. “She thinks the old lady just burst into flames.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, grabbing an old paper from her bag and opening it to a marked page. “October, 1978.” She read. “Joyce Maslow was dancing in a disco in Elizabeth, New Jersey, when flames burst from her head and back, enveloping her. In seconds, she was a human torch, consumed before the eyes of her horrified boyfriend.”
Chloe smiled, smug as Clark rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be so happy about it.”
“I’m not happy.” She protested. “I’m intrigued.”
“Which means you’re still going to look at it.” Clark sighed.
“Am I that transparent?”
Chloe watched, eyebrow raised, as her best friends exchanged a look before exclaiming a resounding ‘Yes’.
*
“It’s in difficult times like this when the Lord’s guidance is most needed.” Dean stated, staring intently at Roger across the coffee table.
Roger scowled. “Look, if you want to pitch your whole Lord-has-a-plan thing, fine. But don’t pitch it to me. My brother is dead.”
Roger’s expression changed from angry to abashed as his brother’s wife entered the room.
“Roger, please.” She murmured, watching as he stood up and left the room. “I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s just so upset about Jim’s death. Would you like some coffee?”
Dean nodded. “That’d be great.”
They sat in silence for the few minutes it took for Ms Miller to fetch the coffee and join them in the room. “It was wonderful of you to stop by.” She murmured. “The support of the church means so much right now.”
Dean smiled widely. “Of course. After all, we are God’s children.” Ms Miller sobbed slightly, excusing herself from the room. Dean reached out for a mini-hotdog, ignoring the incredulous look Sam was shooting him. “What?”
“Just tone it down a little bit.”
Sam closed his mouth quickly as Ms Miller entered the room once again. Dean smiled sympathetically at her. “So, Ms Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”
Ms Miller shook her head. “Nothing like that. We had our ups and downs, like everyone. But we were happy.” She sniffed, starting to cry. “I just don’t understand how Jim could do something like that.”
Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry you had to find him like that.”
“Actually, our son, Max…” she sobbed. “He was the one who found him.”
She pointed to a teenage boy sitting alone in the corner of the room and Sam frowned, pushing up from the sofa.
“Do you mind if maybe I go talk to him?” Sam asked.
“Oh, thank you, Father.”
Sam smiled and nodded before walking over to Max. “Max?” he asked, watching as the boy raised his eyes to stare at him. “I’m Sam.”
Dean watched as his brother talked to young boy, turning back to Ms Miller. “You have a lovely home.” Dean told her. “How long have you lived here?”
“We moved in about five years ago.” She answered, looking confused.
“You know, the only problem with these old houses… I bet you have all kinds of headaches.”
“Like what?”
“Well, weird leaks. Electrical shortages. Unsettling noises at night, that kind of thing.”
“No. It’s been perfect.”
Dean grimaced. “Right. May I use his restroom?”
“Of course. It’s just up the stairs.”
Dean nodded, looking back at his brother as he headed towards the stairs.
“What was your dad like?” Sam was asking Max, watching how tears filled his eyes.
“Just a normal dad.” Max answered slowly.
“Yeah?” Sam questioned. “And you live at home?”
“I’m trying to save up for school.” He said. “It’s hard.”
“So, when you found your dad…” Sam said hesitantly.
“I woke up.” Max told Sam. “I heard the engine running. I don’t know why he did it.”
“I know it’s rough.” Sam said slowly. “Losing a parent. Especially when you don’t have all the answers.”
*
Dean watched Sam as he talked into the phone, concerned that Sam didn’t want to speak to Chloe.
“So what do you have?” he asked, lying on the motel bed.
“Nothing.” Chloe told him. “Nothing bad has happened to the Miller house since it was built.”
“What about the land?”
“No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, meteor strikes or any kind of thing you would care about near the property.”
Dean grimaced. “And no cold spots, sulphur scents, nada.”
“Well, maybe they have a good odour stopper.”
Dean snorted, causing Sam to look up in annoyance.
“The family said everything was normal?” Sam asked.
“Well, I mean, if there was a demon or poltergeist don’t you think someone would’ve noticed something?” Dean stated. “I used the infrared scanner, man, there was nothing.”
Chloe suddenly spoke up. “Speaking of thermal, do you know anything that would make old ladies spontaneously combust?”
Dean paused. “What?” he asked. “Who? When?”
“So,” interrupted Sam, irritated. “Do you think Jim Miller killed himself? And my dream was just some sort of freakish coincidence?”
“I don’t know.” Dean answered, hanging up on Chloe. “But I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”
“Yeah…” Sam said, his voice strained as he grimaced and started to massage his temples. “Well, you know, maybe, uh… maybe it has nothing to do with the house.” He groaned. “Maybe it’s connected to Jim in some other way.”
Sam moaned, clutching his head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dean asked, concerned.
“My head!” Sam inhaled sharply, falling to his knees. Dean rushed over, grabbing Sam’s shoulders as he yelled with pain.
“Sam!” Dean said sharply, trying to get his brother’s attention. “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”
*
Roger strode into the kitchen, setting a bag of groceries on the counter. From the bag, he drew a beer and opened it, drinking from it and leaning against the counter.
A dark shape slid behind him, then vanished.
Behind him a window opened and a cold breeze flew into the kitchen. Confused, Roger placed the beer down on the counter and closed the window, locking it. Before he reached the groceries, the window unlocked itself and opened again. Roger returned to the window, trying to shut it. Perplexed, he stuck his head out the window, looking around.
With a groan, the window slammed shut.
*
Dean watched as his brother sank into a chair, panting and sweating.
“It’s happening again.” Sam said, panicking. “Something’s going to kill Roger Miller.”
*
“Roger Miller.” Sam stated into the phone as Dean drove the Impala. “No, no, just the address please… okay. Thanks.” He hung up. “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”
Dean nodded. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re going to hurl, I’ll pull the car over, you know, ‘cause the upholstery.”
“I’m fine.” Sam replied distantly.
“Alright.”
“Just drive.”
“Alright.”
Sam sighed. “Dean, I’m scared, man.” Sam admitted quietly. “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. It’ll be alright. You’ll be fine.”
“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?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but we’ll figure it out.” Dean said, certain. “We face the unexplainable every day, this is just another thing.”
“No.” Sam protested. “It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out.”
Dean paused, aware that Sam was staring at him. “This doesn’t freak me out.”
Sam started to reply but paused as he spotted Roger strolling along the street, bag of groceries in hand. Dean pulled up alongside him.
“Hey, Roger!” Sam shouted.
“Hey, hold up a second.” Dean yelled.
Roger stopped, turning back to look at them. “What are you, missionaries?” he growled. “Leave me alone!”
“Please!” Sam leapt out the car when Roger moved towards the apartment building. “Roger, we’re trying to help! Please! Hey!”
With a roll of his eyes, he locked the front door. “I don’t want your help.”
“We’re not priests! You’ve got to listen to us!” Sam pleaded as Dean joined him at the apartment building.
“Roger, you’re in danger.” Dean joined in. “Come on. Come on!”
As Roger disappeared from view, Sam dragged his brother to the side of the building where a gate blocked an alleyway.
With a groan, Dean kicked it down, running down the narrow alleyway and starting to climb up the fire escape. Before they reached the top, they paused as a loud crashing echoed through the alleyway.
They rushed up a few more stairs and stopped, faces paling as they saw the blood splattered across the windows. Dean pulled a few rags out from his pocket and handing one to Sam.
“Start wiping down your fingertips, we don’t want the cops to know we were here.” Dean ordered. “Come on. I’m going to look inside.”
*
“I can’t believe you asked them if they knew anything about spontaneous combustion of old ladies!” Pete grinned as Chloe sat with him in the school quad. “And stop fidgeting, I’m sure Clark will be here soon.”
Sure enough, Clark soon strolled around the corner, talking quietly with Whitney. When Whitney skulked away, Chloe waved enthusiastically at Clark. He headed over to them, sitting down.
“Clark, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Chloe said, giggling when he shot Pete an incredulous look. “Look what I found in the Daily Planet.”
Clark took the newspaper from Chloe’s hand, scanning the page.
“Body Disappears From Metropolis Morgue.” Clark read.
“Yeah, but look at the photo.” Chloe ordered. “The coroner’s body was disintegrated into ash.”
“Just like Mrs Sykes.”
“I don’t know…” Chloe grinned. “But it sure would be nice to check out that house for ourselves.”
*
Dean stared at his brother as Sam stretched out along his motel bed.
“I’m telling you, there was nothing there.” Dean insisted. “There’s no signs either, just like in the Miller’s house.”
“I saw something in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger.” Sam insisted.
“Well, whatever it was, we can be sure it’s not connected to their house.”
“No, it’s connected to the family itself.” Sam sat up, tossing Dean the Impala keys. “So, what do you think we got? A vengeful spirit?”
Dean caught the keys, took the hint and headed towards the door, Sam getting up to follow him. “Yeah, there’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”
“Banshees.”
“Basically like a curse.” Dean continued, shutting the motel door. “So, maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something curse-worthy.”
“And now something’s out for revenge.” Sam agreed as they climbed into the Impala. “And the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger?”
Dean grimaced, starting the car. “Let’s figure it out before he is.”
“Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”
“What’s that?”
Sam sighed. “Both our families are cursed.”
Dean shook his head. “Our family’s not cursed.” He protested. “We just…had our dark spots.”
Sam laughed harshly. “Our dark spots are pretty dark.”
Dean scowled, starting to drive away. “You’re…dark.”
Next Part
“Help! Somebody help me!” he yelled, pounding on the doors and windows until he had no more energy. With a final plead; he fell still in the front seat.
*
Sam’s eyes burst open and he sat up, panting and pulling the bed covers away. “Dean.” he murmured, trying to be quiet so as not to wake up the rest of the house. “Dean…” When his brother didn’t respond, Sam lumbered over to his bed and shook him, waiting until Dean groaned. Sam moved away, pulling a duffle bag from under his bed and throwing clothes into it.
“What are you doing?” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Sam zipped the duffle bag closed and tossed it to his brother, starting to pack another one. “We have to go.”
Dean grimaced. “What’s happening?”
“We have to go.” Sam repeated, slinging the other bag over his shoulder. “Now.”
Chloe lay in her bed, frowning as she heard the Winchester’s moving in their room. Staying quiet, she was able to hear the creak as the door opened and the slow footsteps in the hallway. Sighing, she got out from underneath the covers and padded over to the door, opening it and peering out sleepily.
“What’s going on?” she whispered, watching as Sam and Dean turned to her in shock. “You going out?”
“We’re going away.” Sam replied abruptly, starting down the stairs.
Chloe frowned as he walked away, turning instead to face Dean. “Dean, what’s going on?”
Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.” he replied. “Maybe Sam had another strange dream. Anyway, it’s really freaked him out. I guess we’re going to check it out.” Chloe blinked, slowly absorbing what Dean had said. “We’ll be back.” Dean paused, looking at Chloe with concern. “We didn’t wake you, did we?” Chloe didn’t reply, causing Dean to grimace. “Chloe, maybe you should write this down. You look really tired and you don’t want to think you imagined us leaving.”
Chloe sleepily raised an eyebrow. “I won’t.”
Dean rolled his eyes, pushing Chloe gently back into the bedroom. “See you, Sullivan.” he whispered.
Chloe nodded at him as she climbed back into bed, shutting her eyes as Dean closed the door.
*
“McCreedy.” Sam stated, his mobile phone held up to his ear. “Detective McCreedy, badge number 15A. I need the registered owner of a two-door Sedan, Michigan license plate. Mike, Foxtrot, 6037.” Sam paused, watching the road in front of the Impala as the person on the phone told him that it would take a while. “Yeah, okay, just hurry.”
“Sammy, relax.” Dean murmured, frowning. “I’m sure it’s just a nightmare.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“No, I mean it.” You know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won’t check out, you’ll see.”
“It felt different, Dean.” Sam attempted to explain. “Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica.”
Dean grimaced. “Yeah, well, that makes sense. You’re dreaming about our house, your girlfriend. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?”
Sam paused, thinking for a second, before groaning. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. “But Dean, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Remember Jeremy Creek, Greg Arkin?” Dean started to answer but the person on the phone came back online and Sam concentrated on the information. “Yes, I’m here.” he muttered, shooting Dean an anxious look. “Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?” Sam rifled through his pockets for some paper, hurriedly writing down an address. “Got it. Thanks.” He hung up, a stunned look on his face. “Checks out. How far are we?”
“From Saginaw?”
“Yeah.”
“Couple of hours.”
Sam grimaced. “Drive faster.”
*
“What happened?” Dean asked the woman standing by him.
He glanced round the house, taking in the photos of the family scattered along the windows and the tables. The woman turned to him.
“Suicide.” she murmured. “I can’t believe it.”
Dean watched as Sam sighed, guilt in his eyes. Dean grimaced, knowing that Sam blamed himself for not getting there in time. “Did you know him?” Sam questioned.
“I saw him every Sunday at St Augustine’s.” The woman replied. “He always seems… seemed so normal. I guess you never know what’s going on behind closed door.”
“Yeah.” Dean mumbled. “I guess not.”
“How did they…” Sam swallowed. “How are they saying it happened?”
“I heard they found him in the garage.” The woman answered, her voice sharp. “Locked inside his car with the engine running.”
“Do you know what time they found him?”
“It happened about an hour or two ago.” The woman told them. “His poor family… I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.”
Sam frowned, glancing out the window, his face falling when he saw a woman sobbing on the front porch. Sam grimaced, striding out the house, his brother following him.
“Sam…” Dean murmured, watching his brother carefully as Sam slumped against the dashboard. “We got here as fast as we could.”
“Not fast enough.” Sam snapped. “It doesn’t make sense…why would I have these visions if I can’t stop them.”
“I don’t know.” Dean replied hesitantly. “When you saw Jeremy it was 12 years ago and with Greg… I think you saw it as it happened.”
Sam inhaled deeply, a distant look on his face. “So, what do you think killed him?”
“Maybe the guy just killed himself.” Dean told his brother. “Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on.”
Sam groaned. “No, I saw it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. It trapped him in the garage.”
“Well, what?” Dean asked, worried. “A spirit, poltergeist, what?”
“I don’t know what it is. I don’t know why I’ve been having these dreams.” Sam muttered, frustrated. “I don’t know what the hell is happening.”
Dean grimaced. “Maybe you’ve been around too many meteor rocks…”
Sam rolled his eyes, staring at his brother. “What?”
“Nothing.” Dean said, brushing aside his previous comment. “I’m just worried about you.”
“Well, don’t look at me like that.”
Dean shrugged innocently. “I’m not looking at you like anything. But, I have to say, you look like crap.”
“Nice.” Sam grumbled. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, well… come on, let’s pick this up in the morning, check out the house, speak to the family.”
“Dean, you saw them.” Sam protested. “They’re devastated. They’re not going to talk to us.”
“You’re right.” Dean admitted, a smirk spreading across his face. “But I think I know who they will talk to.”
*
Dean sniggered, waiting until Sam wasn’t watching to capture a picture on a phone and sending it to Chloe. Sam’s eyes widened at the quiet click of the camera and he glared at his brother, a blush crossing his face.
Both Winchester’s were dressed in long black vestments and a dog collar, their hair slicked back. Sam finally reached out for the doorbell, but paused when a small noise burst from Dean’s phone.
“Who did you send it to?” Sam snarled.
Dean chuckled, Sam snatching the phone from his hands before he could view the message. Sam’s eyes widened.
“Chloe?” Sam murmured. “You sent it to Chloe?” Dean nodded as Sam opened the message and started to read it aloud. “This is a new low.” He read. “Even for you.”
The door started to open and Sam tossed the phone back to Dean, who tucked it into his pocket. “Good evening.” Dean began, as the man in the doorway looked at the brothers in confusion. “I’m Father Simmons and this is Father Freyley. We’re the new junior priests over at St Augustine’s. May we come in?”
The man blinked.
“We’re very sorry for your loss.” Sam added.
*
Chloe sighed, leaning back against the picnic table and staring up at the sky. She smiled at the feel of the sun, glad that it was finally summer. She frowned as she felt someone sit next to her, turning to see Pete smirking at her.
“So, are you going to let me see what was on your phone?” Pete asked, reaching towards her pocket.
Chloe rolled her eyes, taking the phone away from Pete’s reach and flipping it open, grinning at the picture of the Winchester’s In priest costume that was the background on her phone. “Stop trying to steal my phone.” She snapped, joking. “Mrs Sykes just died, remember.”
Pete nodded, waiting for Chloe to be distracted by the approaching figure of Clark Kent, before pulling the phone from her hand and frowning at the picture in confusion.
“Chloe!” Clark called, and she waved to him, snatching the phone back from Pete with a glare. “I just got your note. I can’t believe it. I just saw Mrs Sykes yesterday.”
“I know.” Chloe told him, shifting along the bench and allowing Clark to sit next to her. “I’m sorry, Clark.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the official story is that there was some sort of fire…” Chloe told him, frowning. “But all they found were her ashes.”
“And the unofficial?”
“Spontaneous combustion.” Chloe answered quickly.
Pete sniggered. “She thinks the old lady just burst into flames.”
Chloe rolled her eyes, grabbing an old paper from her bag and opening it to a marked page. “October, 1978.” She read. “Joyce Maslow was dancing in a disco in Elizabeth, New Jersey, when flames burst from her head and back, enveloping her. In seconds, she was a human torch, consumed before the eyes of her horrified boyfriend.”
Chloe smiled, smug as Clark rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to be so happy about it.”
“I’m not happy.” She protested. “I’m intrigued.”
“Which means you’re still going to look at it.” Clark sighed.
“Am I that transparent?”
Chloe watched, eyebrow raised, as her best friends exchanged a look before exclaiming a resounding ‘Yes’.
*
“It’s in difficult times like this when the Lord’s guidance is most needed.” Dean stated, staring intently at Roger across the coffee table.
Roger scowled. “Look, if you want to pitch your whole Lord-has-a-plan thing, fine. But don’t pitch it to me. My brother is dead.”
Roger’s expression changed from angry to abashed as his brother’s wife entered the room.
“Roger, please.” She murmured, watching as he stood up and left the room. “I’m sorry about my brother-in-law. He’s just so upset about Jim’s death. Would you like some coffee?”
Dean nodded. “That’d be great.”
They sat in silence for the few minutes it took for Ms Miller to fetch the coffee and join them in the room. “It was wonderful of you to stop by.” She murmured. “The support of the church means so much right now.”
Dean smiled widely. “Of course. After all, we are God’s children.” Ms Miller sobbed slightly, excusing herself from the room. Dean reached out for a mini-hotdog, ignoring the incredulous look Sam was shooting him. “What?”
“Just tone it down a little bit.”
Sam closed his mouth quickly as Ms Miller entered the room once again. Dean smiled sympathetically at her. “So, Ms Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?”
Ms Miller shook her head. “Nothing like that. We had our ups and downs, like everyone. But we were happy.” She sniffed, starting to cry. “I just don’t understand how Jim could do something like that.”
Sam sighed. “I’m so sorry you had to find him like that.”
“Actually, our son, Max…” she sobbed. “He was the one who found him.”
She pointed to a teenage boy sitting alone in the corner of the room and Sam frowned, pushing up from the sofa.
“Do you mind if maybe I go talk to him?” Sam asked.
“Oh, thank you, Father.”
Sam smiled and nodded before walking over to Max. “Max?” he asked, watching as the boy raised his eyes to stare at him. “I’m Sam.”
Dean watched as his brother talked to young boy, turning back to Ms Miller. “You have a lovely home.” Dean told her. “How long have you lived here?”
“We moved in about five years ago.” She answered, looking confused.
“You know, the only problem with these old houses… I bet you have all kinds of headaches.”
“Like what?”
“Well, weird leaks. Electrical shortages. Unsettling noises at night, that kind of thing.”
“No. It’s been perfect.”
Dean grimaced. “Right. May I use his restroom?”
“Of course. It’s just up the stairs.”
Dean nodded, looking back at his brother as he headed towards the stairs.
“What was your dad like?” Sam was asking Max, watching how tears filled his eyes.
“Just a normal dad.” Max answered slowly.
“Yeah?” Sam questioned. “And you live at home?”
“I’m trying to save up for school.” He said. “It’s hard.”
“So, when you found your dad…” Sam said hesitantly.
“I woke up.” Max told Sam. “I heard the engine running. I don’t know why he did it.”
“I know it’s rough.” Sam said slowly. “Losing a parent. Especially when you don’t have all the answers.”
*
Dean watched Sam as he talked into the phone, concerned that Sam didn’t want to speak to Chloe.
“So what do you have?” he asked, lying on the motel bed.
“Nothing.” Chloe told him. “Nothing bad has happened to the Miller house since it was built.”
“What about the land?”
“No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, meteor strikes or any kind of thing you would care about near the property.”
Dean grimaced. “And no cold spots, sulphur scents, nada.”
“Well, maybe they have a good odour stopper.”
Dean snorted, causing Sam to look up in annoyance.
“The family said everything was normal?” Sam asked.
“Well, I mean, if there was a demon or poltergeist don’t you think someone would’ve noticed something?” Dean stated. “I used the infrared scanner, man, there was nothing.”
Chloe suddenly spoke up. “Speaking of thermal, do you know anything that would make old ladies spontaneously combust?”
Dean paused. “What?” he asked. “Who? When?”
“So,” interrupted Sam, irritated. “Do you think Jim Miller killed himself? And my dream was just some sort of freakish coincidence?”
“I don’t know.” Dean answered, hanging up on Chloe. “But I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing supernatural about that house.”
“Yeah…” Sam said, his voice strained as he grimaced and started to massage his temples. “Well, you know, maybe, uh… maybe it has nothing to do with the house.” He groaned. “Maybe it’s connected to Jim in some other way.”
Sam moaned, clutching his head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Dean asked, concerned.
“My head!” Sam inhaled sharply, falling to his knees. Dean rushed over, grabbing Sam’s shoulders as he yelled with pain.
“Sam!” Dean said sharply, trying to get his brother’s attention. “Hey! What’s going on? Talk to me.”
*
Roger strode into the kitchen, setting a bag of groceries on the counter. From the bag, he drew a beer and opened it, drinking from it and leaning against the counter.
A dark shape slid behind him, then vanished.
Behind him a window opened and a cold breeze flew into the kitchen. Confused, Roger placed the beer down on the counter and closed the window, locking it. Before he reached the groceries, the window unlocked itself and opened again. Roger returned to the window, trying to shut it. Perplexed, he stuck his head out the window, looking around.
With a groan, the window slammed shut.
*
Dean watched as his brother sank into a chair, panting and sweating.
“It’s happening again.” Sam said, panicking. “Something’s going to kill Roger Miller.”
*
“Roger Miller.” Sam stated into the phone as Dean drove the Impala. “No, no, just the address please… okay. Thanks.” He hung up. “450 West Grove, Apartment 1120.”
Dean nodded. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“If you’re going to hurl, I’ll pull the car over, you know, ‘cause the upholstery.”
“I’m fine.” Sam replied distantly.
“Alright.”
“Just drive.”
“Alright.”
Sam sighed. “Dean, I’m scared, man.” Sam admitted quietly. “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. It’ll be alright. You’ll be fine.”
“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?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but we’ll figure it out.” Dean said, certain. “We face the unexplainable every day, this is just another thing.”
“No.” Sam protested. “It’s never been us. It’s never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can’t tell me this doesn’t freak you out.”
Dean paused, aware that Sam was staring at him. “This doesn’t freak me out.”
Sam started to reply but paused as he spotted Roger strolling along the street, bag of groceries in hand. Dean pulled up alongside him.
“Hey, Roger!” Sam shouted.
“Hey, hold up a second.” Dean yelled.
Roger stopped, turning back to look at them. “What are you, missionaries?” he growled. “Leave me alone!”
“Please!” Sam leapt out the car when Roger moved towards the apartment building. “Roger, we’re trying to help! Please! Hey!”
With a roll of his eyes, he locked the front door. “I don’t want your help.”
“We’re not priests! You’ve got to listen to us!” Sam pleaded as Dean joined him at the apartment building.
“Roger, you’re in danger.” Dean joined in. “Come on. Come on!”
As Roger disappeared from view, Sam dragged his brother to the side of the building where a gate blocked an alleyway.
With a groan, Dean kicked it down, running down the narrow alleyway and starting to climb up the fire escape. Before they reached the top, they paused as a loud crashing echoed through the alleyway.
They rushed up a few more stairs and stopped, faces paling as they saw the blood splattered across the windows. Dean pulled a few rags out from his pocket and handing one to Sam.
“Start wiping down your fingertips, we don’t want the cops to know we were here.” Dean ordered. “Come on. I’m going to look inside.”
*
“I can’t believe you asked them if they knew anything about spontaneous combustion of old ladies!” Pete grinned as Chloe sat with him in the school quad. “And stop fidgeting, I’m sure Clark will be here soon.”
Sure enough, Clark soon strolled around the corner, talking quietly with Whitney. When Whitney skulked away, Chloe waved enthusiastically at Clark. He headed over to them, sitting down.
“Clark, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Chloe said, giggling when he shot Pete an incredulous look. “Look what I found in the Daily Planet.”
Clark took the newspaper from Chloe’s hand, scanning the page.
“Body Disappears From Metropolis Morgue.” Clark read.
“Yeah, but look at the photo.” Chloe ordered. “The coroner’s body was disintegrated into ash.”
“Just like Mrs Sykes.”
“I don’t know…” Chloe grinned. “But it sure would be nice to check out that house for ourselves.”
*
Dean stared at his brother as Sam stretched out along his motel bed.
“I’m telling you, there was nothing there.” Dean insisted. “There’s no signs either, just like in the Miller’s house.”
“I saw something in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger.” Sam insisted.
“Well, whatever it was, we can be sure it’s not connected to their house.”
“No, it’s connected to the family itself.” Sam sat up, tossing Dean the Impala keys. “So, what do you think we got? A vengeful spirit?”
Dean caught the keys, took the hint and headed towards the door, Sam getting up to follow him. “Yeah, there’s a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years.”
“Banshees.”
“Basically like a curse.” Dean continued, shutting the motel door. “So, maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy. Something curse-worthy.”
“And now something’s out for revenge.” Sam agreed as they climbed into the Impala. “And the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger?”
Dean grimaced, starting the car. “Let’s figure it out before he is.”
“Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people.”
“What’s that?”
Sam sighed. “Both our families are cursed.”
Dean shook his head. “Our family’s not cursed.” He protested. “We just…had our dark spots.”
Sam laughed harshly. “Our dark spots are pretty dark.”
Dean scowled, starting to drive away. “You’re…dark.”
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