A/N: So this kinda has been floating around in my head for quite some time and I my best friends finally convinced me to write it out. Chapter takes place just after 1.16 Shadow.

"So get this," Sam announced as Dean came out of the bathroom. It had been a rough week. Between getting their asses kicked by Meg, finding their father after months of searching, and then watching him run off again all in the same day, it's no wonder why Dean just wanted to crash on the dust covered bed for a week in the crappiest motel they probably have ever checked into. It was all Dean could do to suppress a groan of irritation.

In an attempt to ignore him, Sam continued, "So Susanna Jacobs is now the third person to have committed suicide off of the ninth floor balcony at an apartment complex in New York". Dean flopped onto the bed, stirring dust into the air with a huff of annoyance.

"So? What do you expect? Its finals week," Dean said into the pillow stuffed under his face.

"All from the same balcony?"

"The building probably only has nine floors."

"Dean, it's the third one this week… it's Thursday," Sam whined, "You know, we can't just sit here waiting for Dad to call us again."

Dean finally turned his head out of the pillow, "Fine, but if this turns out to be nothing, you pay my tab at the nearest bar."

"Deal."

—

Pharmacology was eerily quiet Thursday morning. Susanna usually sat two rows in front of Maggie, but today that seat was empty - minus the weird aura that seemed to radiate out from it. Maggie didn't personally know Susanna, but she was one of those people that everyone knew. She was top of her class in the Med program at Colombia University, second only to Maggie herself, but she was so full of energy. While Maggie tended to keep to herself, Susanna was always scheduling study sessions for the class to join in or she was tutoring an undergrad. She was the equivalency of the cheer captain in high school, but a million times more heartfelt. She was just so happy all the time, which tended to make Maggie a bit nauseated, but it was sweet all the same.

Most importantly, though, Susanna never would have killed herself, it just didn't add up. This is what concerned Maggie. She tried to take it at face value when Michael Sigmont jumped because that actually made sense. She became a bit more suspicious when Kelsey Bates jumped the next day, though. Kelsey was a performing arts major that tended to keep to herself, similar to Michael, but more in the introvert type and less in the "probably having a psychotic breakdown" type. Yet when Susanna jumped Maggie realized twice is tragic, three times is a pattern. Something else was at play here and Maggie had that feeling like her past was coming back to bite her in the ass.

So here she was now, in full study gear: sweat pants and a hoodie with her blonde hair piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun, torn between what she should be studying and what she actually was studying. She tried to reason with herself, reminding her that she was retired and she truly needed to be studying for her Patient Psych final that was the next day, which she was trying her best to do. Except the little annoying voice in the back of her head kept telling her another person was going to show up dead tomorrow if she didn't go and do her freaking job.

—

"I don't know, Sammy, don't you think Colombia freaking University is a little high profile for us?" Dean asked from the driver seat of his car. The squeal and creak of the passenger door opening was muffled for once by the sound of upper Manhattan.

"It will be fine, Dean," Sam reassured as he stepped onto the busy sidewalk, "Just go and take a look at the apartment complex and I'll see what I can dig up here." Dean only nods, too distracted by the small trio of coeds chatting and giggling while making their way to class.

"You know, we can probably conquer a lot more if I stay here too," Dean says while wagging his eyebrows.

"And that is what I'm afraid of," Sam sighed, "Just go check out the apartment." Sam tapped the hood of the Impala and started to make his way up the steps towards the University library as Dean pulled away from the curb.

The heat of the furnace was welcoming from the winter cold when Sam entered the building. The second floor housed all of the reference section and small cluster of desktop computers. Dean had been right after all about it being finals week, so Sam wasn't surprised when he found all of the computers taken. Unfortunately, that meant he was going to have to do this the old fashioned way - by hand.

Sam approached the reference desk to find a baby faced freshman who was probably on the work study program working the station. "Um, hi, I was wondering if you had any collection of newspapers that went back a few years or so?" Sam asked. "Trying to write a research paper and I kinda procrastinated a bit."

The clerk scratched his head, "Yeah, man, we have a cart of them that go back to like 1900 or something like that, but we only have one copy and that girl over there kinda has a monopoly on them at the moment," he indicated over Sam's shoulder. "You're welcome to try and convince her to share, but all I can say is 'Good luck'."

Sam thanked the kid before turning in the direction pointed out to him. Towards the back of the study area Sam could see what he would have called "The Great Wall of Research". Boxes upon boxes were stacked on top of each other around the table and on the table top. At first Sam thought she may have abandoned them on the table for the clerks to take care of until he saw a pile of gold hair pop out of the top of the wall she had built around her.

Based on how the clerk spoke of her, Sam didn't really feel like being on her bad side, so he walked around in order to approach her from the side and hopefully not spook her. As he rounded the corner of her makeshift fort she had built, his sense of fear vanished. Hunched over one of the papers, sat a girl around his own age that possibly could have passed for 5'4". He watched as she held her breath and straightened her spine out as long as it could go. She was bundled up in an oversized hoodie and her large framed glasses were perched on the bridge of her small nose. Her finger traced over a line in the article before she turned to her notepad to scribble something down. Sam walked up to her and cleared his throat in order to get her attention.

"Keith, didn't I tell you I would return everything when I was done?" She snapped without even looking up from the paper, "Do I look done, Keith?"

Only now did Sam Winchester actually understand what the clerk, Keith he assumed, had meant. "Well, um, for one: I'm not Keith," Sam said. That got her attention and her head whipped up, throwing her sloppy bun over to the side. "And two: I just wanted to know if I could possibly use some of the newspapers for some research?"

The girl's eyes were full blown showing just how frazzled Sam had made her. They were a dark brown, but he could just barely see flecks of gold in her irises. "Uhh.. umm… yeah," she stuttered. She released a sigh in an attempt to compose herself. "Sorry about that, Keith is always on my ass about this stuff, I just assumed… Anyway, uhh, help yourself."

Sam smiled and nodded taking up a seat next to her, "Hi, I'm Sam." He offered his hand to her and she took it, shaking it firmly.

"Maggie."