Smells Like Teen Spirit

07. Nightmare

A man drove down the street, into his garage and turned off the engine. His license plate was from Michigan. The garage door began winding down by itself and he looked at it, confused. His car doors self-locked. He struggled but couldn't open them. The ignition key turned by itself and the engine started. Exhaust smoke began filling the garage. The man struggled to turn off the engine to no avail. The radio flicked on and the man began to cough.

"Help," the man said. "Somebody help me!"

The smoke grew thicker and he keeled over, unconscious.

MOTEL ROOM

Sam started up from his bed, suddenly wide awake. He looked across to where Dean was sleeping peacefully. Cassidy was curled up on the other bed. Sam sat a moment, then moved into action, flipping on the light switch and shook his brother and the teenager. "Dean. Cassidy. Dean. Cassidy."

The moment they stirred, Sam rose and started gathering his things.

Dean rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing man, it's the middle of the night." He raised himself on his elbows.

"We have to go," Sam told them.

"What's happening?" Cassidy asked with a yawn while stretching.

"We have to go. Right now." Sam grabbed his bag and walked out.

Cassidy huffed and mumbled, "I need sleep, Samuel."

---

They got in the Impala. Dean was driving, Sam was on the phone, and Cassidy yawned.

Sam read from a Michigan State Police ID. "McReady. Detective McReady. Badge number 158. I've got a signal 480 in progress, I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan Michigan license plate Mary-Frank-six-zero-three-seven. Yeah, okay, just hurry."

"Sammy, relax," Dean said. "I'm sure it's just a nightmare."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I mean it. Y'know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class, nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our old house. And Jessica."

"Yeah, that makes sense. You're dreaming about our house, your girlfriend, Cassidy's sister. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?"

"No."

"No," Cassidy repeated. "Why would you have premonitions about some random guy in Michigan?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither," Dean replied.

Sam spoke into his phone. "Yes, I'm here." He listened, glared at his brother, then picked up his pen. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks."

Sam hung up the phone. "Checks out. How far are we?"

"From Saginaw?" Dean asked. "Coupla hours."

"Drive faster."

They reached Jim Miller's house and saw emergency vehicles and someone on a stretcher being zipped into a body bag. They turned to each other in the car, Dean and Cassidy concerned, Sam upset.

Dean and Cassidy approached the watching crowd at Jim's house and asked a woman, "What happened?"

"Suicide," the woman replied. "Can't believe it."

Sam came up behind and stood on the woman's other side and asked, "Did you know them?"

"Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine's. He always seems... seemed, so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."