You looked at the mess on the desk in front of you. It seemed like there were hundreds of papers and photographs. You were so close to catching that son of a bitch. You just couldn't understand how he was still alive. I mean you had seen him dead, with a bullet in his chest. What was he? A vampire? Maybe, if they existed. But they don't! So he must be really good at what he did. But which normal person would desecrate graves? And why was he doing this? And why was his brother helping him? He seemed really kind and... normal. Maybe he was doing it against his will. Or maybe he was just the same as his bigger brother - a freak. And those tattoos looking like pentagrams. They must be satanists or... I don't know.

"What the hell you think you're doing, (Y/N)?" a very familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You lifted your head only to see your angry boyfriend staying in front of you. His dark brown hair was messy, his not so full lips - pursed and his crystal blue eyes were piercing you. Seeing your confused expression he said: "Dean Winchester? Have you lost your mind?"

Well, you knew it would happen sooner or later. You just wished it would happen later.
"Hey Mark. My day went good, thanks for asking. How was yours?" you said sarcastic with the sweetest voice you had.

"Don't try to escape! Are you crazy? He's dangerous, (Y/N)! He's a murderer! You want to get yourself hurt?" he almost shouted.

You loved it when he was acting so protective, but at times it was just annoying. I mean you weren't a child who couldn't take care of itself. You were a 26-year-old woman.
"I'm not a child, Mark! So don't treat me like one! I've never been closer to catching him. I'm not giving up!" you said passing him by and walking out of your office.

A few hours later you were sitting in the living room in your house. Mark was still at the police station and you were alone. It was dark outside. You were watching a stupid TV show when you heard it - a strange sound coming from the kitchen. You thought that the window was open and it was only the wind, but then you heard it again. You turned down the volume of the TV and got up from the couch.

"Mark? You there?" you yelled. There was no answer. "Hello? Mark, is that you?" no answer, again. You were scared. Then you heard something breaking. You grabbed your gun. There was someone in the house. You walked very slowly into the kitchen. Yes, the window was open. You turned the light up and saw it - Mark's lifeless body lying on the floor near the table. His throat was cut and there was blood everywhere. His eyes were still open, as if they were staring at you, begging for mercy.

"MARK!" you screamed. "Oh, my God! Mark!" you were crying, your face was wet. You called Bill. He had to be in the police station right now. Oh, God! You couldn't believe you had a fight just a couple of hours ago. And you didn't even apologized. It was too late. "Bill," your voice was shaking.

"(Y/N)? Is everything ok? Are you alright?" he sounded concerned. You started crying again.

"Bill, it's Mark. H-he is..." you couldn't finish your sentence.

"Hey, (Y/N). Are you hurt? Did he hit you?" the questions were attacking your brain, but you couldn't move your lips. "Hey, you still there? Listen to me (Y/N)! It's gonna be ok!" he said but he was wrong. Nothing would be ok.

"No. It's never gonna be ok. Bill, Mark is... He is dead. He's been murdered," you said, tears streaming down your face. There was silence on the other side for a bit.

"I'm coming. Just try to calm down as much as you can. And do not touch anything. You better don't stay in the room where Mark's body is. I'm on my way," he hung up.

Bill was much older than you. He was like your father. Not that you didn't have father. You just didn't talk to him much. He got crazy when your mom died. You were 15. She was the closest person to you, your best friend. And when she died, and you needed your dad more than anything else, he just forgot about you. He was obsessed with finding out who had killed her. Or maybe I should say what had killed her. Yes, I know it sounds hilarious. But he thought your mother's murderer was a... demon. Can you believe that? A demon. You told him he'd been acting all crazy, but he just continued reading those stupid books. So one day, when you were 19, you left your home town. You went to Chicago and started all over again. There you met Mark. He helped you start working in the police station. Then you became a detective. Mark and you started hanging a lot. And before you knew it you were dating. You loved him so much. And Bill? Bill was your boss. When you met him for the first time you thought he was in his early thirties. His hair was nicely styled with gel. His dark eyes full of life. He really looked very young. Few hours later Mark told you that Bill was actually 42. You didn't know how to talk to him or what to do. And when you realised how cool he was, he became one of your closest friends. Even closer than your own father. And in that moment, 7 years later and one boyfriend less, he was everything you had.

The doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts. You walked to the door and opened it lazily. The moment he saw you, Bill wrapped his arms around you. You started crying again, making his shirt wet. He stroked my back.

"Everything will be ok, kid. It's gonna be ok. I'm gonna find who did this, I promise you."

In the next morning you woke up and sat on the bed. You took a look of the familiar room. Yes, it was familiar, but it wasn't your room. Oh, but of course, you was in Bill's home. Last night he suggested you to go with him so you would sleep better knowing that there's not the blood of your dead boyfriend all over the kitchen.

You got up and went downstairs. You saw a note on the table in the kitchen.

"Hi (Y/N). I had to leave for work.
I didn't want to wake you up. You
definitely need a good rest. There
are pancakes in the microwave.
Make yourself home and don't worry
about anything. It's gonna be alright,
kid. See you later.
Love,
Bill xo"

You smiled lightly and look at the clock on the wall. Oh, dear! It was 11:16 am! You'd been sleeping for what seemed as an eternity. You went to take the pancakes and then you heard the front door being open with a loud bang. Then you saw a few men in uniforms pointing their guns at you. One of them said:

"Freeze! You are under arrest for the murder of Mark Stewart! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say could be used against you!"