Chapter 2

The young brunette eyed the Winchesters warily. Though she'd invited them into the apartment readily enough, she made no move to sit. Instead, she leaned against the table in the combination living/dining room with her arms crossed firmly against her chest, watching them skeptically. "I'm sorry, what newspaper did you say you were with?"

"We're with Tompkins Weekly, Ms. Johnson," Sam supplied, whipping out his most sympathetic expression. "I'm Albert Bouchard and this is my partner, Barry Goudreau. We promise not to take up too much of your time. We'd really like to give our article a more personal touch. Gather information from the people who know Andrea best."

"The police advised me not to speak to reporters."

"Well, sugar, the police don't know everything. The right article could help them locate your friend before it's too late." Dean tried to be patient, but really, this woman was looking at them like they were cockroaches. Sam shot him a warning look.

"Really, we just want to help, Ms. Johnson," Sam entreated.

"Becky." The brunette corrected. She paused, examining the brothers critically for a moment, then notably relaxed. "What do you want to know?"

"Andrea was your roommate?" Sam began.

"Yeah, for almost three years. We met as freshmen at Ithaca College and hit it off immediately. We started rooming together the next year. It's strange to think that she might not graduate with me next spring. I mean, we've been through everything together. She just..." Tears filled her eyes. "Andi's such an amazing person."

"Did you noticed anything out of the ordinary about her before she disappeared? Changes in her behavior, her routine, anything? " Dean redirected before the waterworks began to fall.

"Which time?" She answered with a teary shrug.

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned.

"Well, she disappeared over a month ago for a couple of days. No warning. She was in her room Saturday night finishing a term paper that was due the following Monday. As far as I knew, she'd planned to work on it all weekend, but the next morning she was just gone. Never said where she went or anything."

"Then what happened?" Sam's compassionate voice was like a warm caress.

The girl dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand and began to explain. Once she started, it was as if a dam had burst and she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Well, she changed. Like, overnight. All of a sudden, she just wasn't Andi anymore." She glanced from one brother to the other, her teary eyes begging for understanding before continuing.

"One minute, Andi was a neurotic political science student, neat freak, vegan, all that. But when she turned up again early on Monday morning, she acted like nothing had happened. She never even turned in her paper. She started skipping classes, leaving her stuff around everywhere, eating red meat... eating anything she could get her hands on, actually. You know, Andi used to be a conservative dresser... not a nun or anything, but just simple outfits, comfortable without being overly revealing. After she turned up again, she started dressing like a tramp... tight clothes, low-cut dresses, tons of makeup."

Becky paused, her expression changing to embarrassment. "This second time, I didn't report her missing right away because... well, she'd been acting so strange. I thought she'd show up again any time because, even with her strange behavior, she usually came home every day or so to change clothes. When she hadn't shown up in almost a week, I realized something was wrong."

The brothers exchanged knowing glances before Dean inquired, "Do you mind if we take a look around her room?"

"Go ahead. It's at the end of the hall."

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The motel room door banged open in the wake of Dean's anger. He stomped into the room, tossing his keys down on the nearest surface. "Well, that was a total waste." He turned on his brother, who calmly closed the door behind himself. "What are we doing here, Sam? Four days of interviewing and hours of trudging around the sewers looking for signs of a shapeshifter. I'll never get that smell out of my clothes! And we're still no closer to figuring this thing out."

"We've collected more information, at least."

"Yeah, but it doesn't make any sense, Sammy. I think we're looking at this all wrong."

"What're you talking about, Dean?"

Dean sighed. "For one, these old dudes don't fit the pattern." He gestured at the wall covered in the faces of the missing people Sam had printed earlier that week.

"They fit the six-week turnaround."

"Yeah, but that's all they have in common with the others. I mean, look at her..." He pointed to a picture of Andrea Payne. "She could be a supermodel." He gestured to another picture. "And this guy looks like he was sculpted out of marble. Look at that jawline! I'd do him... you know, if I swung that way... which I don't..." Sam's eyebrows rose questioningly. "Shut up. I'm just saying that these old guys don't fit."

Sam looked skeptical. "Well, let's look at what we do have. Except for the two old rabbis, each victim disappeared for one or two days, then reappeared without any explanation for where they'd been. Then for the next four to five weeks afterward, they displayed uncharacteristic behavior. In each of these cases, family and friends described them as being a completely different person."

"Right, all but the old dudes."

"Yeah, but when we talked to Chava Levy..."

"The younger rabbi's wife."

"Right. So she admitted that her father-in-law and husband had been acting strange before they vanished... distracted and preoccupied, working long hours, meeting at strange times... and that they would only say they were working on a project."

"That's right. And a third rabbi dude, the other brother, uh..."

"Nachum Levy."

"Yeah, him. He was committed to the nuthouse at the same time his father and brother disappeared."

"Nut house? Is that the official term?"

"Damn right. So that looks like one big ol' coincidence to me, going bonkers just when his daddy and bro go missing. Whatever it is, though, I just don't think it's a shapeshifter, Sam."

"Okay, so if it's not a shapeshifter, what is it?"

"I don't know yet, but there's one more thing these victims all had in common." Dean waved his hands dramatically, his face beaming with pride. "Dirt!"

"Dirt?"

"Yeah! You remember Andrea's room?"

"The place was a mess, but..."

"Not just a mess, Sam. There was a layer of gritty dirt all over everything. Remember how Carl Hayden's wife mentioned the covering of dirt she kept having to clean for the last few weeks after he disappeared for good? I bet if we looked closer, we'd find an unusual amount of dirt in all the victims' homes."

Sam considered this for a second before grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. "I've got an idea. There are still a few hours before the Cornell University library closes. I think I'll head over there and do some research."

"I'll drop you off. It's a good excuse to check out the college girls. You know, for after..."

Sam tried to frown at his brother, but the shine in Dean's eyes was infectious. "Okay, just don't get into any trouble."

"Hey, you know me."

"Yeah, I do, Dean." Sam couldn't stop his grin that time.

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Sam stamped his feet and clapped his hands, trying to bring warmth back to his extremities. He paced the sidewalk outside the library. This late at night, the campus streets were quiet. His brother was supposed to pick him up when the library closed, but that was over a half-hour ago. Most likely, he'd found himself one of those cute college girls and lost track of time. Sam sighed and pulled out his phone for about the hundredth time.

"Hey." Dean's voice on the other end of the line sounded slightly annoyed.

"Dean, where are you? The library's been closed for half an hour."

"Sorry, man. I've been elbow deep in engine grease. Had a little car trouble."

"You manage to fix it?"

"Yeah, sorta. It took some creative jerry-rigging, but she'll last a little longer. Dude, we can't put it off any more. As soon as this job's over, we're heading straight to Bobby's. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"No hunts until you fix the car. Got it."

"Alright, I'm about 10 minutes from you. Please tell me you found something."

"Actually, I did." Sam wedged the phone to his ear with his shoulder, freeing his hands, and began rifling through the papers in his bag. "The old rabbis gave me the idea. They were both professors at the University, and Chaim Levy taught a class on Hebrew lore and mythology."

"Yeah? So you think this thing is Jewish?"

"Well, it originated from Hebrew mythology. I think it's a g... Ugn!" A sudden blow to the back of his head sent Sam sprawling on the sidewalk, his phone flung onto the curb. Sam observed denim-covered legs over women's sneakers before darkness filled his vision. He wasn't aware of the petite hands clasping his ankles and dragging his body away, nor did he hear the tinny sounds of his brother's anxious voice coming from his phone.

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"Sam! Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone, but received no response. He floored the gas and hoped he wasn't too late.

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