A/N: I was going to wait til tomorrow to post this since I'm cramming for a test tonight, but decided I'd go ahead since I got such lovely comments . Thank you guys!

Chapter 2

The woman sat across from them crying into her friend's broad shoulder. He did his best to comfort the grieving woman, but nothing was working. Her sobs echoed throughout the room, causing the brothers to cringe in sympathy, especially Sam.

"Ma'am, I know this is difficult, believe me I do, but I need you two to talk to us," Sam finally said. "We want to be able to help you. I know you want to see justice for your boyfriend. You have to let us talk to you in order for that to happen. I promise we are just here to help."

"Come on Kate," the friend whispered into her ear as he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

She nodded into his shoulder. "Ok, Mark," she mumbled to him. She then turned towards Sam and Dean. They sat on the chairs opposite her, both clad in average suits with matching white dress shirts and black ties. They looked every bit the agents they were trying to be. "You boys said you are FBI?"

"Yes," Dean replied. "We've-"

"You look so young, though. All the agents on TV are always a lot older."

"Well, you know how TV can be. Always twisting things around," Dean laughed, hoping it would be convincing enough. "As I was saying, we have been brought in to handle the possible serial killer that has been going after victims on 1st Street Hill. I assure you we are going to bring this guy down."

"Good," Mark piped up beside Kate. His hands clenched into fists in front of him. "I want that bastard caught."

Dean nodded towards the man. Sam did as well before leaning forward in the seat.

"Now, Mr. Shaw, you were the last one to speak to the victim that night. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Rick called me on his way home. He…he had gone into town earlier that evening to pick up an engagement ring for Kate." Beside Mark Kate took a sharp inhale of breath. It hitched and sounded more like a choked sob. "I'm sorry Katie," he apologized. He rubbed his hand across her slender back as she tried to compose herself. "He wanted it to be a surprise. He was planning on popping the question for Valentine's Day. It was cliché as hell, but you know how he is. Was," Mark corrected somberly. "He wasn't creative, but he had it all planned out for months. He was just so damn excited."

"I'm sure he was," Sam spoke up sympathetically. He knew he had been so excited about popping the question. He had been a ball of nervous energy the whole way to the jewelry store…

"Were you on the phone with him when the wreck occurred?" Dean asked, drawing Sam back to the present.

"No. He had hung up with me a few minutes before from what I can tell. He said the roads were getting too slick and he didn't want to talk and drive. That's the last time I talked to him." Tears began to shine through Mark's eyes at the admission. "The roads weren't supposed to be that bad. And it was barely even raining that bad here. I don't understand how he could've hydroplaned like that. I don't get it!"

"I know. We're very sorry," Sam placated. "I know this is hard, but we have to try to get some more information. We don't have a ton to really go on at the moment. Now, do you know which jewelry store he had gone to?"

"Zales," Kate replied. "He would've gone there. It's the only one in town unless you head over to Lynchburg. And Rick always loved going to the local stores. Thought the city was too crazy and was going to ruin our little town one of these days."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sam said softly. He reached across and took her hand in his. "We'll figure this out. I promise." He then let go and rushed out of the house to get some fresh air. Seeing her pain was starting to take its toll on him, and he couldn't allow himself to start crying in front of her as well.

Dean sighed as he heard the front door shut with a bang. "I'm sorry about him." He stood up from his own chair; Mark and Kate followed suit.

"Is he ok?" Kate questioned with concern. She absently wiped a few tears from her blotchy cheeks. She been doing it so often of the past couple of days that it had become habitual.

"Probably not, but he will be." Kate looked confused. "He…he lost someone recently. He's still trying to move on. I'd say this is just hittin' a little close to home. He'll be fine; he's good at his job, ma'am. I assure you this won't effect the investigation any."

She nodded. "Just, please tell him how sorry I am. I wouldn't wish this on anyone." Kate choked on the words and had to turn back into Mark's broad chest. He gathered her in his arms and mumbled soothing words into her ear.

"Thank you." Dean sent her a sympathetic smile before heading out of the house to find his brother.

Sam was already leaning against the side of the Impala with his head hung. Dean could tell his little brother was fighting back his emotions, despite how well his bangs hid his eyes.

"Sammy-"

"Let's head into town and check out that store. Maybe they have records and we could see if all the victims went there."

"Sam I don't think that will do any good. Maybe we should just hit a mot-"

"We need to cover all bases. There could be some connection there. We should go and-"

"Fine," Dean sighed. "We'll check out the store. Just cool it, Sammy." With that, they both climbed into the car and took off towards the main area of the town.

The ride was done in silence. Dean knew Sam was upset and that any attempts at changing the plans would just piss him off. So Dean maneuvered the car around streets until the jewelry store came into view. He parked in front of it. Sam was out the door before the engine had even been turned off.

"In a hurry there?"

Sam looked sheepishly at Dean. "Just want to figure this out quick. Don't want it to happen again."

"Come on kid," Dean said as he approached his brother. He gently cupped the back of Sam's neck before he opened the glass door. The Zales logo was worn and cracking in places. A bell echoed through the store as they walked in.

"Good afternoon," a young lady called from behind one of the glass cases. The store was fairly empty. Besides her, there was just a male employee sitting in a small office off to the side with the door closed. There weren't any customers milling about either.

Dean smiled at the girl. "Hi there…Jackie," he said once her nametag came into view. "We were hoping you could help us out…"

"Of course," she said cheerily, her deep southern accent dripping from the words. "Are you looking for something for your girlfriends or wives?"

"Not exactly," Dean replied.

"Oh." Jackie then glanced over at Sam who was standing off to Dean's side. "Oh," she said more knowingly. "Well we also have an extensive line of men's wear that would be perfect for a young couple like yourselves. We may not have a need for it all that often 'round these parts, but we don't discriminate. Not sir! Now, if you just follow-"

"Wait! No!" Dean fumbled over the words. "He's just my partner!"

"I figured that out sweetie," she giggled. "It ain't a problem. Like I said, we don't judge here. Accept all kinds of couples. Love doesn't discriminate afterall, so why should we?"

"No! Not that kind of partner!"

Sam chuckled at Dean's frustration and decided to help him out. "We're work partners, ma'am." Sam dug into his jacket's inside pocket and pulled out his FBI badge and ID. "We're FBI, ma'am. We're in town investigating the wrecks and subsequent murders out on 1st Street Hill."

"Oh, oh God! I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Sam laughed. Dean was still grumbling a little beside him. "We were just hoping you could answer some questions for us."

"I don't understand. What do I have to do with that case?"

"Nothing really," Dean replied.

"But," Sam continued, "the victims were said to have had engagement rings in their possessions at the time of their deaths. Now, the rings are never with their bodies when they are found, but we are trying to get a better idea of what the victims were doing leading up to their deaths. Do you know if any of the victims had been here prior to the murders? I mean, we heard this is the only jewelry store in town."

"Well, I've only been here a couple of years. David," she pointed to the office door, "hasn't been here that long either."

"Do you have any records or anything?" Dean asked.

"Not that far back. You see, this store hasn't always been a Zales. Most of the older records never transferred over into the computer system. Wasn't a real point in it."

"I thought this was supposed to be one of the oldest shops in town?" Sam looked up in confusion.

"It is," Jackie continued. "The jewelry store itself has been here for nearly a hundred years, however it has only been a Zales for nineteen."

"And before that?"

"Up until the mid eighties, this place used to be a family owned store. Harris Fine Jewelry was the name. Had been in the family forever."

"Any idea what made them sell out?" Dean was starting to become interested.

"Old man Harris couldn't handle it. You see, back in '85, his daughter died. He might as well have died with her too. Never the same after that the way my grandma tells it."

"What happened to the girl?" Sam inquired.

"They were headed back from Lynchburg; it was raining something fierce. But they had had to go to town. You see, that daughter of his was engaged to a wealthy gentleman from over there and they had been over in Lynchburg for their wedding rehearsal. On their way home, their taxi slipped on ice and went off the road. Mr. and Mrs. Harris survived, but that girl didn't."

"Do you happen to remember where that accident took place?" Dean piped up.

"Not exactly, but I'd venture a guess that it happened out on the hill. That's the only way to get to and from Lynchburg." Jackie paused, realizing the implication. "Oh, God, you don't think this has somethin' to do with all these murders happening, do ya? I always heard that was just an accident. Is it related? That poor girl"

Sam and Dean just looked at each other as the impact of her words washed over them.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

Dean paced the tacky motel room as he tried to comprehend what Sam was saying. "So, this Harris girl is our ghost?"

"Looks like it," Sam sighed. His eyes were locked on the newspaper article pulled up on his laptop. "The girl, Elle Harris, died twenty years ago on the eve of her wedding to Garret Snider from Lynchburg. On their way back to the family home, Elle and her parents veered off the side of the road and into the hillside. Their small cab rolled multiply times before slamming into a tree. Elle's seatbelt malfunctioned and she went through the front window. By the time that anyone noticed the family missing, Elle had been dead for hours. The cabbie was paralyzed from the accident. Her parents barely survived the wreck, and from the sound of it, they couldn't survive the grief. Mrs. Harris died the following year from complications stemming from the wreck. Mr. Harris remains alive and in town, but has practically secluded himself from the rest of the world."

"Got an address for him?"

"Yep," Sam said as he shut his laptop.

"Let's roll then."

It didn't take long for them to find the Harris house. The house was extremely run down compared to the rest of the neighboring homes. Peeling paint lined rotting wood, windows were cracked or broken on every floor, and the flowers had long been dead.

"Damn," Dean whistled. "These place looks like it should be haunted."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Definitely looks like this guy never got over his daughter's death. You sure this is a good idea man? I don't think us questioning him is gonna get too far."

"Worth a shot." Dean bounded up the creaky and termite invested steps to the front door. He knocked, feeling the wood give way a little under his hand.

No one answered at first. The brothers were about to give up when the door finally creaked open, revealing a gray haired man. He looked frail, mostly just skin and bones. The soft sunlight cast down on his pale face.

"Can I help ya'll?"

"Yes," Dean replied strongly. "We are looking for a Mr. Brian Harris."

"May I ask who's looking for me?"

"Sorry for not introducing ourselves, sir," Sam spoke. "I'm Agent Young and this is my partner Agent Zandt." He flashed the FBI badges. "We're investigating the murders out on 1st Street Hill and we were hoping we could-"

The front door slammed closed on them, making the windows shake from the force of it.

"That went well," Dean grumbled.

Sam sighed and nodded. They made their way off the porch and back towards the Impala, figuring it wouldn't do any good to try knocking again.

"Excuse me!"

They turned to see an elderly woman on her porch across the street. She waved them over to her.

Dean looked over at Sam, who only shrugged before crossing the street.

"Yes ma'am?" Sam exhaled.

"What're you boys doin' over there at the Harris place?" Her voice dripped with the southern accent. She was sitting in her rocking chair, wearing a checkered cotton dress, and wielding a cane in her boney hand.

"We're FBI, ma'am. We were hoping to get some information about Mr. Harris's daughter and her death on the hill. We noticed it was in the same location as the subsequent murders and were just checking into it." Sam ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. "None of the records showed much on the accident except for the basics."

"Ah, you won't get much outta Brian these days. Buryin' that little girl of his did him in. She was his world. Hasn't been the same since then, I tell ya."

"We're sorry to hear that," Dean said with sympathy. "But we just needed to see what type of girl she was. You know, to see if maybe she could've actually been the first victim of this bastard."

"Now, she was a good girl, through and through. She wouldn't have been into anythin' that would've gotten her killed. Not Elle! No sir."

"You knew her?" Sam perked up.

"Yes I did. I've lived in this here house for over fifty years. I saw that angel grow up from right here in this rocking chair." She tapped her metal cane on the porch surface for added emphasis.

"What about her fiancé?" Dean asked skeptically.

"That boy thought she hung the moon from what I saw. They were so in love. Elle always wanted to get married! Ever since she was a lil girl. She'd drag all the boys on this block down to the lake and have her own play weddings." The woman paused as her memories took over her. "She was so happy when Garrett gave her that ring. She went around showing it off every chance she got. She was just so proud! Real shame they never found it."

"What do you mean?" Sam moved so that he was sitting on the steps.

"Well, that accident tore up her whole body. The glass shredded the flesh 'round her ring. It fell off in the woods and was never found again. They wouldn't have been able to burry her with it anyway. Her body was so mangled that they just cremated the poor girl. But I know that boy of hers always wished he could've had the ring."

"Do you know where he is?" Dean questioned.

"Got married to another girl, had some children of their own, and moved away to another town. Couldn't take living 'round here I'd imagine."

Sam nodded as everything sunk in. "Thank you ma'am. We'll keep everything in mind." He then looked up at Dean, signaling that they should head back to their motel room.

SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN-SPN

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, throwing his tie across the room. "How the hell are we going to find that damn ring when we got the spirit there too?"

"We'll need to distract her." Sam discarded his own tie and the traded his dress shirt for his hoodie.

"How we goin' do that, Sam? Last I checked, the bitch only goes after guys with engagement rings. And I sure as hell know we don't have any lying 'round the Impala!"

Sam closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"So, our only options are to go find some poor bastard to use as bait or go steal a ring ourselves. Judging from the fact we don't know anyone in this town and that that store had enough security cameras for five stores, we're screwed!" Dean slammed his hand down on to the motel's table, startling Sam.

"Dean-"

"We'll have to figure out something quick too. Valentine's Day is next week, and you know those lovesick bastards are gonna be buying rings out the wazoo!"

"Use me!" Sam snapped.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Bait," Sam replied more calmly. "Use me as bait while you go look for the ring. It's gotta be somewhere around that tree I found. That's where they wrecked twenty years ago."

"Sam…the chick only goes after guys with engagement rings who are planning on proposing. Last I checked-"

Dean stopped midsentence when Sam dug into his pockets and slammed a little black box down onto the surface of the table.

"Sammy," Dean said softer this time.

Sam's hands shook as they opened the box, revealing a princess cut diamond ring set into a white gold band.

"Like I said, use me as bait."