"But you haven't seen anything yourself? Just heard scuffling, odd noises?" You glance at Ms. Thorton curiously.

She frowns, then her eyes widen with realization. "Well, now that you mention it—the lights did flicker!"

Dean nods, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Others in the neighborhood have complained about the same thing. You're not alone, Ms. Thorton. We’ll take care of it." He glances at you, a subtle confirmation passing between you. Yeah, there’s a case here.

With that, you and Dean step outside with his hand resting on the small of your back, the cool air a contrast to the warmth of the house. He exhales, looking to you as he thinks aloud, "Alright, I figure we get us some grub and do a little research? See where this spirit will hit next?"

You barely nod before it hits.

A blinding force slams into your skull, dragging you under. Images crash through your mind—violently jumping scene to scene. Flickering lights. Blood. A woman’s scream cut short. It pulses like an electric current, sharp and erratic, searing through your head. Just when you think it stops, it starts again.

Your knees buckle.

You stagger against the porch railing, a strangled grunt escaping as your vision blurs. The world tilts, warping into something too bright, too loud.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!"

Dean’s hands are on you before you can hit the ground, firm and solid. His grip is tight, arms locking around your forearms as he presses you against his chest, grounding you.

"What the hell was that? You okay?" His voice is sharp with concern, green eyes scanning your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut trying to breathe.

Dean shakes you slightly. "Talk to me, sweetheart. What just happened?"

Your fingers dig into his jacket as the pain begins to fade.

You swallow hard. "I... I saw something."

Dean’s expression shifts—concerned and tense. "Saw what?"

You hesitate. Nobody knows you're a clairvoyant, not even your boyfriend.

You're shaken out of your thoughts, meeting Dean's gaze with hesitation.

"Sweetheart, what's goin' on?"