The Family Business [Supernatural] {1}

14.2 Max

Later that night, Dean was cleaning the weapons while I was sitting on the bed, my back was against the headboard and Sam's laptop on my lap as I was searching through the history of the land.

Sam walked in. "What do you have?" Dean asked him. "A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built," Sam replied. "What about the land?" Dean asked me.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property," I said and sighed as I put the laptop to the side. Sam sunk on my bed, his back faced me and Dean.

"Hey, man, I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfer scent. Nada," Dean said. Sam looked over his shoulder at me, "And the family said everything was normal?"

"Well, if there was a demon or poltergiest in there you think somebody would have noticed something?" I said and he looked away, sighing. "I used the infer-red thermal scanner, man, and there was nothing," Dean said.

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged as he stopped cleaning, "I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house," He said and went back to cleaning the guns.

Sam started to rub his temples and I frowned, "Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house." He took a deep breath, holding his head, his back became tense, "Maybe it's just . . . Gosh." He hold his hand to his forehead and I sat up straight. "Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked. Sam made anguished noises and sunk from the bed to crouch on the floor, "Ahh. My head."

"Sam?" I called as I jumped out of the bed and crouched in front of my big brother. "Sam? Hey," Dean said as he rushed over to us and crouched down beside me. He grabbed his arm, "Hey! What's going on? Talk to us."

Sam cried out and Dean and I shook him. "Sam?!" I called. "Sammy!" Dean called. Suddenly, Sam's eyes focused on us again and he winced. "It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

We climbed into the Impala and drove away, racing through the town to get to Roger Miller's house. "Roger Miller. Ah no, no, just the address please," Sam said slowly into his phone, holding his head. "Okay, thanks." He hung up and looked at Dean, "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120."

"You okay?" I asked softly as I leaned into the front and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah," He breathed out. "If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over you know, cause the upholstery . . ." Dean trailed off as I glared at him.

"I'm fine, just drive," Sam said. "All right," Dean mumbled. Sam looked at me then at Dean, sighing heavily before looking straight on, "Guys, 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 all right. It'll be fine," Dean said. "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 asked.

"I don't know, Sam, but we'll figure it out," Dean said. "Yeah, we've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing," I said.

"No. 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," Sam said to us. Dean stared straight ahead for a long moment before speaking, "This doesn't freak me out."