The Family Business [Supernatural] {1}

14.4 The Chosen?

Max led us to the living room and we all sat down. Max was sitting opposite me and Sam and just stared at a letter opener on the small table. It lifted on it's own and began twirling on it's point.

"Why did you want me to stay?" I asked softly. Max didn't looked away from the knife but he smiled slightly, "I feel a little calmer when you around," He admitted.

I frowned. "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through," Sam spoke. "That's right, you can't," Max said as his smile faded.

"Max, this has to stop," Sam said. "It will, after my stepmother --"

"No, Max," I cut Max off, "You need to let her go."

"Why?" Max asked. "Did she beat you?" Sam asked. "No, but she never tried to save me. She's a part of it, too," Max said. "What they did, to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished --" 

"Growing up?" Max cut him off, "Try last week."

My eyes grow wide and he stood up. He lifted his shirt, revealing his side were a mass of bruises. I felt tears in my eyes but I fought them back.

"My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it," He said and pulled down the shirt. "Old habits die hard I guess." He sat back down.

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly. Max stared back at the knife, "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."

"Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked softly. Max spoke as the knife dropped, making both me and Sam to jump slightly, "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?"

"No," Sam whispered, shaking his head. Max looked at me and I shook my head, looking down on the floor. Dad never hit me or Sam and Dean or looked at us with hate. He was always there for us, even when he and Sam were fighting all the time, Dad never do something like that. He loved us.

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death," Max said. "Why would he blame you for your Mom's death?" Sam asked.

Max lent forward, "Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault." Both me and Sam looked at him with wide eyes.

"She died in your nursery?" Sam and I asked at the same time. "There was a fire," Max explained. "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!"

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

"It happened to my Mom too, exactly the same. My nursery, my crib, my Dad saw her on the ceiling," Sam said. "Your Dad must have been as drunk as mine," Max comment.

"No, no. It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers," Sam said. "That's impossible," Max said. "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?" Sam said.