Disclaimer: I only own this story, not Supernatural or Sam and Dean!

Sequel to Nightmares and Breakdowns...

Dean rolled the Impala to a halt outside the motel and sat inside it for a few moments, glancing over towards their room. The curtains were still closed, the door still tightly shut. It had been three days since their episode with the red-eyed demons, and they had moved on. Or at least tried to. Sam wasn't even pretending he was okay these days, he just spent his hours sitting staring at nothing or out on pointless walks around town. It was as if he had just died inside, lost his will to do anything at all. It made Dean feel useless, feel like he had failed as a brother. Failed to protect him. Dean sighed and picked up the two takeaway coffees and the newspaper in the passenger seat, then pushed his way out of the Impala. Thin curls of smoke coiled upwards, silvery spirals in the cold, grey morning light. Dean strode over to their room, pulling out his keys, and unlocked the door.

Inside, the room was almost completely devoid of sunlight. Dean stood in the doorway for a few moments, blinking hard as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He made out a lumpy mass on one of the beds and headed over to it, moving cautiously in case Sam was in a bad mood. The nightmares had stopped at last, so Sam no longer screamed at night. Now he just lay awake, staring at the ceiling in that deadened, blank way that terrified Dean even more.

"Sammy?" Dean called softly, stopping beside the bed. "I got coffee. You gonna get up today?"

Sam shifted slightly, but his head remained buried in the pillow. Dean reached down and shook his shoulder gently. "Sam. Hey, Sam. Its past eleven, man, kinda late for you."

"Go 'way, Dean," Sam mumbled.

Dean sighed and put the coffee down on the bedside table. "You know where it is," he said, glancing at the cups from the day before that were gathering on the table, each untouched. Dean put his own coffee down and began to clear them away.

"Hunters don't do tidying," he muttered. "Seriously, man, you're killing me here."

Sam muttered something incoherent. Dean shook his head and moved over to the table on the other side of the room, shaking open the newspaper. He hadn't come to this town for a hunt, exactly the opposite actually. He had chosen this one because it looked like there was nothing going on, and he didn't wanted Sam to take a break. Of course, when he wanted that he had to be sneaky and pretend that he thought that there was something there. And he was getting pretty fed up of acting all the time.

He looked down at the newspaper, more out of habit than looking for a hunt. Nothing on the first few pages, so he skipped to missing persons. Ryan Peterson, 23, last seen in Grove Street... Ian Brooks, 25, last seen in Godwin Park... Melissa Lisonburg, 19, Hartford Road... Peter Johnson, 22, Grove Street... wait, Grove Street again? Dean frowned. And wasn't Godwin Park somewhere nearby that road? He pulled a map out of his pocket (he normally kept one in there for when he was in the Impala) and spread it out beside the newspaper. He trailed his finger over it, stopping on Grove Street. It was right on the edge of town, and led onto the motorway which cut through the forest and headed towards the beach. And sure enough, Godwin park took up part of the forest beside the town, right next to Hartford Road. Dean frowned, and then packed the map back into his pocket. He turned his head towards Sam. Maybe his brother needed a hunt, and this could just stop in a dead end anyway...

"Sam!" he called. "Sammy, up. I need you."

Sam lifted his head and twisted around, his eyes bloodshot and cold. "What do you want, Dean?" he muttered.

Dean struggled not to just sit and stare at his brother's bedraggled, beaten appearance. "There's a bunch of missing persons from the same area, looks like there could be something going on down there. Can you look up these people's records while I go down to the police station and find out what happened?"

Sam sat up slowly and put his head in his hands. "Whatever."

Dean opened his mouth to tell Sam that it was time he snapped out of it, got back into the game, but the sight of his brother stopped him short. Instead, he asked,

"You okay, Sam?"

Sam looked up at him slowly. "I thought you didn't want any chick flick moments," he said flatly. Then he got up and went into the bathroom.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. He hadn't felt so utterly helpless like this since Jessica had died. And, just like then, he had no idea what to do. Dean rose to his feet and strode over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder one more time as the shower started up, and then ducked outside again, his heart heavy.

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"So your name's Lucy, huh?" Dean checked, leaning on the desk of the police station. "Might I say that you're the most beautiful secretary I've ever seen?"

Lucy grinned and tucked her hair back behind her ear. She slid the files across the desk towards him, and he flipped them open, trying to focus on the missing people instead of Lucy's flirty smile.

"So, the first guy... uh, Ryan Peterson, he vanished about a month ago?"

"Yeah. The next guy a week later, and the next a week after that. Then there was the first girl, Melissa."

"And its all in the same area, right?" Dean added, frowning.

"Yes, officer. But we can never find out who's going to be taken next. The victims didn't even know each other."

Dean nodded, frowning. "It says here that Ryan was on his way to the beach, where he worked at a cafe... and Peter was also on his way to the beach to meet his girlfriend when he was attacked. Ian was at the park... it doesn't say what he was doing there," he added, looking up at Lucy.

"No, but his friends said that he was pretty into baseball," Lucy replied. "We think he might have been just practicing or something, we found a bat."

"But no ball?"

"No. We don't know why there wasn't one there."

"And Melissa, she was returning from a party on the beach."

"Yes. We did think it was something to do with the beach, but one of the boys, Ian, was nowhere near it when he was taken."

Dean closed the files. "Okay, well thanks. I think this is all I need."

"Are you sure?" she asked quickly. "There's nothing else at all?"

He suppresed a grin. "Nah, I'll be okay. But maybe I'll come back here, you know, if I need some more info."

Lucy's face lit up. "Great. I'll be here."

Dean had already left the building when he realized that, for the first time, he had forgotten to get her number. Sam's bad attitude must be having a bad effect on him.

He was considering going back in and asking Lucy for her mobile number when another girl across the road caught his eye. His fingers on the file slackened and he almost dropped it, his mouth fell open and the only thing he could think was Oh... holy... jesus...

Her hair was the colour of moonlight, and cascaded down her back loose in a shimmering waterfall. Her skin was so pale that it was almost as white as snow, and her eyes glittered a deep, emerald green. Her body was slim and slender, her short, pleated skirt revealling long, delicate legs. Her face was small and pointed, slightly elfin. And Dean couldn't take his eyes off her, despite the fact that she had her arms curled around another man's neck. The man was looking just as in awe of her as Dean, his eyes fixed on hers as if he would never look away.

"Officer? Officer?"

Dean jerked and looked down at Lucy, who had emerged from the police station.

"I just thought you should have my number, just in case, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled taking the post-it she was holding out. She frowned in confusion and then looked across the road, and her face cleared.

"Oh," she muttered. "Never mind."

Dean tore his attention away from the girl and looked down at Lucy. "Huh? Why?"

"You want her, right? Everyone does."

"Who is she?" Dean knew that he should be comforting Lucy, but his mind was a complete blank. He couldn't think of anything but her.

"Her name is Alica, and every girl in this town hates here 'cos every man that sees her instantly dumps his girlfriend and goes after her instead."

"Whoa..." Dean noticed Lucy's dejected expression, and quickly changed his tack. "Uh, what a bitch."

Lucy smiled. "You're sweet, but don't bother. I can see that she's already caught you too." She turned towards the station again. "Don't try to pretend that you'll call, I'm not stupid."

Dean watched her go, and then turned to look back at Alica. She had finally released the man and was turning away, her long hair catching the sunlight. Dean couldn't help but suck in a small gasp as she left. Then he shook himself and turned away.

And bumped into someone else.

Dean stared up at the man, who looked like he might be even taller than Sam. He had spiked bronze hair which was swept back from his forehead, and his skin was just as pale as Alica's. His eyes were the same emerald green, but glittering and cold as he stared down at Dean, his mouth twisted into a cold snarl. Dean took a sharp step backwards, one hand automatically moving to his gun at the sight of him. The man's lip curled, and he looked away through the glass doors of the police station to where Lucy was sorting through something at the desk. He looked back to Dean, one eyebrow arching.

"Move," he snarled.

He pushed past Dean and into the building. Dean watched him go, his eyebrows raising. "What the..." he whispered to himself. Was this whole town full of ice cold super models?

He watched as he strode into the building. Lucy looked up, and her eyes went wide as saucers. She dropped the pen she was holding, and the man caught it before it hit the ground. Dean pulled himself away, scowling. There was no way he was losing to some pretty-boy... probably gay anyway... he turned and began to walk back towards the Impala.

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Sam stared at his laptop's screen and saw nothing. He knew that the victims had no connections whatsoever, and he couldn't care less.

Had Chelsea been special somehow? Had she fitted some sort of description so that the demons had chosen her instead of someone else? Or had it just been completely random... why were these questions even important to him anymore? Chelsea was dead. And no amount of going over what had happened was ever going to bring her back again. He closed his eyes and leant back in his chair, rubbing them. He had no idea why he was so tired, considering that fact that he hardly did anything anymore. He wished that he could have rewound time and changed everything somehow, run in a different direction the night he was captured.

And he wouldn't have been able to change anything.

God, I wish I'd never met her... No. He couldn't think that. CHelsea had been amazing, someone he had been lucky to meet.

Yeah. 'Cos I'm just so lucky.

He started as the door opened and Dean walked inside, a bunch of files under one arm. He had a strange look about him, one Sam recognized as a sign that Dean was probably going to get laid soon. He closed the laptop and pushed it away, looking away from Dean.

"So?" he asked expressionlessly.

Dean put down the files on the table. "So, I'm sure that this has something to do with the road that runs between here and the beach. Could be a haunting of some kind."

"No connection between the victims," Sam said in the same, flat voice. "There was nothing special about any of them. They were just ordinary people. So that gets us nothing."

Dean sighed and sat down opposite him. "Well, we know that there's definately something going on. Just have to work out what." He pulled the files towards him and began to shift through them.

Sam rose from the table and walked back over to his bed to lie down on it. He rolled over to face the wall. If he stayed at the table he knew that he and Dean would end up talking about Chelsea, and the last thing he wanted was to talk about her any more. Dean had tried to talk to him before about it, tried to get him to explain how he felt, but Sam didn't want to explain anything. He was fed up with going over things he couldn't change. Even thinking about her turned his heart to ice.

"Sam? I could do with some help with this."

Sam rolled over to look at Dean, his eyes narrowing. "Dean, I don't care," he replied coldly. "Go play with your stupid obsessions, just don't expect me to help you any more."

"Sam, you're just upset."

"Don't you get it Dean?" Sam snapped, sitting up abruptly. He was so fed up with all of this, with moving on time after time, hunt after hunt. "I'm tired," he said, realizing slowly that he was repeating Dean's words from earlier that year. "I'm tired of all of this. I can't take it anymore."

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about?"

Sam glared at him. "I'm done with hunting, Dean. I'm out."

He stood up and walked to the door and, without taking another look back, stepped outside.

Okay, so not much happened in the first chapter but just wait, I have some plans for the Winchesters... muwahaha... if you like it, tell me and I'll update. No reviews and I'll just give up ;). Hope you enjoyed it!

Yours, SUPRNTRAL LVR.