A shrill repetitive beep tore Max from a very lucid dream starring Dean Winchester set in the back of his Impala. Another perfectly good dream, needlessly ruined by the fact she had neglected to switch off the alarm before passing out, face down, on top of her sheets. She groped blindly for the button to silence the insufferable machine. Unable to locate the clock, and completely incapable of removing her face from within the pillow where it was firmly implanted, Max resorted to other means to end the obnoxious beeping.

With a flick of her dangling wrist, the alarm clock lifted off the red milk crate nightstand, smashing against the opposite wall into a dozen fragments. The noise ceased as the shattered plastic parts collected in a mess on the floor below, but sun was creeping in between the split...

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