"Every premonition I've had if they're not about the Demon they're about the other kids the Demon visited." With one of the pages, Sam gestures to Dean "Like Max Miller."
                          
"Yeah but Max was a pasty little psycho", Dean tells Sam sparing him a look from the driver's seat. As if he sensed my confused gaze on him Dean catches my gaze in the mirror "Max Miller is the first kid we came across that's like Sam. Mother died the same way, born the same year, abilities that started about a year ago." 
                          
Humming, I joke "What can this guy do? Use the power of the force?" Noticing Dean's knowing look I glance skeptically back to Sam who remains just as silent at my comment. Arching my eyebrow I breathlessly wonder "Really? He's telekinetic?"
                          
"Was", Dean corrects me regaining my attention "Shot himself in the head right after he offed his Dad and Uncle cause they abused the kid." 
                          
"And there goes any sympathy I have for his dead family", I mutter lowly under my breath. 
                          
"Point is Max was killing people and I was having the same type of visions about him", Sam steers us back on track "And now it could be happening all over again to this Gallagher guy."
                          
"How do we find him?" Dean questions Sam still paying attention to the road.
                          
Furrowing his eyebrows, Sam gives a small confused shake of his head "Don't know. No current address, no current employment-"
                          
"Go back", I shoot my arm over the seat to mark a page that caught my attention. 
                          
Pulling the pages back, Sam hums under his breath "Still owes money for bills- phone, credit, utilities." 
                          
"Collection agency flags?"
                          
"None in the system", Sam replies to Dean sparing me a look over his shoulder "Good catch." 
                          
"But it's weird isn't it?" I ask Dean and Sam "A man who owes that kind of money and the debt collectors not flagging him down as a risk? Just letting him walk?" 
                          
"Seems like what's happened", Sam tells me reading over the long list of debt Andrew has been accumulating "There's a work address for his last W-2. About a year ago. Let's start there."
                          
{}{}{} 
                          
Sitting in the Impala I gaze defeatedly around the town which apparently is Andrew Gallagher's home. It's a quiet suburban community from the looks of it. Small stores, quaint in appearances, some signs rusting from the weather near others which wish their customers a happy day. Considering I don't have any suit to disguise myself as a debt collector with I didn't have any other option but to stay in the car and wait for Sam and Dean to speak with Andrew, hugging Sam's flannel around my black pant and white office polo shirt. It's not exactly like I've had a second to change. Hand in my hair I lean on the front seat and stare into the window of the tiny café, Sam and Dean are sat in speaking with a pretty blonde and even younger busboy. 
                          
When they come outside I perk my head up intriguingly at the high held heads. When both slide into the car I flip open the palms of my hands for an answer on how it went. As Dean fires up the car Sam spins to tell me "Andrew wasn't there but on the positive side of things we've got an address on Orchard Street."
                          
"And", Dean drawls sparing me an excited glance over his shoulder "A van that's got a painting of a barbarian queen painted on the side."
                          
Furrowing my eyebrows at the ridiculous insinuation, I ask Dean "Did you have a stroke?" Getting no answer from Dean I turn to Sam who ducks his face to hide his smirk "Did your brother have a stroke?"
                          
Clearly offended by my astonishment, Dean scoffs and pulls the car into gear "You just wait. It's gonna look wicked." After spending five minutes driving around the town Dean's car stops dead in its tracks down the street. Dean was indeed right about the van. Just not that it was wicked or awesome. Down the side of the patch navy detailing is, in fact, a spray-painted barbarian woman in leather armour as a giant white polar bear roaring behind her. As if he could feel my skepticism breathing down his neck, Dean tells me defensively "See? Told you it's wicked."