"I'll answer your question after you answer mine," I said. "I can't be called crazy again, and I need to make sure you aren't like that man."
"Like what man?" Sam asked.
"The one with the pitch black eyes. No whites, just black," I said. "Are you two really FBI agents? I swear I've seen you before."
"Yep, we are really FBI," Dean said.
"Liar," I smiled. Sam and Dean looked at each other.
"Let's just continue," Sam looked back at me. "What happened to your mother? I can see she isn't here." Now that, that was a touchy subject, and he was going down a road he would never come back from.
"I want him to leave, if I tell you," I told Sam. Dean got up then.
"I'll be waiting in the car," he said and walked out.
"My mom died in a fire," I told him. "I can still see her even though I was a baby. For the past seven months, I have had dreams, very bad dreams. I have been in torment throughout the day even, and I kept seeing things. It just keeps coming back. I want to forget but they keep repeating."
"Maya," he shook his head, and smiled. "My mom died the same way. I have the same thing you have, just calm down." My eyes were already tearing up. I thought all the times my father was drunk, and he blamed me for everything. Everything I hadn't want to be blamed for.