A/N: I mostly want to thank my beta BlackIceWitch for helping shape this chapter. Without her, it wouldn't be what it is. Thanks! :)

If you like what you are reading, then REVIEW! That's what makes me want to write more. After all, this story is for you all and that's what fuels me. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

"Jennifer…where are you?"

The voice sounded so close to her ears, it almost felt like she was in her head. Somehow, it seemed the person had implanted themselves into her mind. If they were able to get inside her head so easy, what else could they do?

Jennifer shielded her eyes from the bright fluorescent lights above each door that lined the length of the hallway. A few of the bulbs flickered, making a low humming sound. As she walked further down the hall, she could hear people conversing with each other. She listened closely – the voices were muffled.

"Sandra, I'm here! Where are you?" she called out, increasing her speed down the hall.

Turning to each door, she wiggled the door knobs but each one was locked.

"I'm here! Hurry! I don't have much time," Sandra yelled.

Jennifer could feel her heart racing. It felt like she had a stopwatch on her. Failing her once, she wouldn't do it again. Each second as she struggled to find the right door stole time away from finding Sandra.

Coming to the last door, Jennifer peered up at the three-digit brass numbers, reading one-twelve. Reaching for the knob, she startled as it unlatched, swinging back slowly. In spite of the hallway lighting, pitch-black darkness filled the room. Sensing a presence in the room, she felt against the wall for the light switch.

Flipping the light on, Jennifer gasped at the sight of Sandra, who stood in the center of the room. Jennifer couldn't make herself move. She stayed frozen in her spot between the door frames. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around Sandra and tell her she wasn't going anywhere this time.

"Why didn't you find me, Jennifer? I called out to you," Sandra questioned, sadness in her voice.

"Sandy, I didn't know where you were," Jennifer replied, reaching for her.

Jennifer felt her heart break when Sandra stepped back. She followed Sandra's forlorn eyes to her stomach. Watching a red stain form along Sandra's stomach, Jennifer kept her eyes on the spot.

Sandra rubbed her stomach lightly, blood wet on her hand. Glancing up, she asked, "Why?"

Before Jennifer could open her mouth to reply, Sandra let out a shrill scream. Jennifer stumbled back in shock.

Jennifer bolted upright in her bed, heart beating incredibly fast. Bringing her hand to her chest, she tried to calm her breathing. This had been the second time that night that she had tried sleeping and both times she had had the same nightmare.

She rested her back against the headboard and closed her eyes, letting out a breath. Somehow, she needed to calm herself down. She looked around the room, panic building inside her as the darkness closed in on her. Reaching toward her night table, she turned her lamp on.

Resting her head back against the mahogany wood, she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the soothing breeze against her arm. The familiar feeling brought her back to her teenage years of requiring the soft blow of her fan in her face to sleep. Unlike tonight, the comforting breeze normally relaxed her, allowing her to slip into a slumber quickly.

A glance at the digital clock told her it was five-eighteen a.m. She groaned, rolling her head back against the bed again. Staying awake in Lit class is going to be a bitch, she thought to herself.

Sensing movement across the room, Jennifer watched Liz roll over in her bed. Her mind replayed the earlier conversation between the two friends. Who was this Sam guy and how had he and his brother impacted Liz's life? She had never mentioned them once during their nine years of friendship. Was there a possibility she was hiding something?

Pulling the comforter aside, she crawled out of bed, tip-toeing across the room. The girls shared a mutual agreement of privacy. Jennifer didn't mess with Liz's possessions and vice versa. Jennifer had to be very quiet. If Liz woke up and saw her take the note, she would freak out on her. Jennifer didn't need this especially with the little sleep she had.

Jennifer glanced down at her friend. Liz was lying on her stomach, one hand under her pillow, her curly hair splayed over her face. Being careful not to wake her, Jennifer's eyes scanned the night table, spotting the crumbled napkin, peeking out from under Liz's datebook.

Jennifer heard the rustle of bedcovers, startling her. Frozen, she stared down at Liz as she lifted a hand and scratched her nose. Jennifer held her breath, watching as Liz's hand dropped back to her pillow. Her breathing softened and steadied, drifting further into sleep again.

Jennifer released the air she had held in. Close one, she thought, grabbing the napkin from the table. Checking Liz was still asleep, Jennifer smiled deviously, hurrying back to her bed. She unplugged her phone from the charger and snuck out into the hallway for privacy.

At that time of morning, the hallway was pretty much desolate, giving Jennifer ample opportunity to call this Sam guy. There were benefits to being awake at this early hour. Students were busy sleeping, anxious and dreading what college would bring to them next.

She pressed the side switch on her cell phone, lighting the screen up. Looking at the napkin in her hand, she dialed the number. After the fourth ring, someone answered.

"Hello?"

Hearing the half-asleep voice on the phone, she wondered if calling someone that early in the morning was a good idea. What had she been thinking when she decided to call? Oh, that's right. She wasn't thinking. A mix between the nightmare and lack of sleep was beginning to mess with her head.

"Um…hi. I'm calling for a friend of mine," she said, leaning her back against the wall. "Liz Lange? I think you may have left her a note with your number on it."

"Liz, yeah," the groggy, male voice confirmed. "Is she there?"

Sliding down the wall, Jennifer sat on the floor, legs crossed Indian-style.

"Actually, no. She's asleep right now but I had to call because if I didn't she wouldn't. There's no way I could pass up the opportunity," she told him, resting her head back against the wall.

"What time is it?" he asked, followed by a groan. "It's five in the morning. How come you're calling this early?"

"Liz wasn't going to call you guys so I had to do it when I knew she wouldn't be able to stop me. I figured if you didn't answer then I would've tried later," she said, her eyes getting heavier. "So, are you Sam?"

Opening her mouth, she allowed a yawn to escape, her eyes watering. She wondered if she would be able to sleep after she got off the phone. By that time, daylight would have made an appearance and things were safer in the light. But what if she closed her eyes again and Sandra's bloody body reappeared?

"No, not at all. I'm Dean," he said, a yawn escaping his lips. "I'm Sam's brother. Who are you?"

Hearing his name, Jennifer realized who she was speaking to. "Liz mentioned you," she pointed out. "I'm Jennifer, her roommate."

Stretching her legs out in front of her, she shivered slightly from the breeze circulating through the hallway. She should've grabbed a robe, she thought, running her fingers gently across the goose bumps sprouted on her bare arm.

"I'm sorry I woke you. I really wasn't thinking about the time when I called. I could call back sometime later, if you want…?" she said suddenly, hearing the silence stretch out on the other end of the line.

"Nah. I'm up now. I couldn't get back to sleep if I tried," Dean interrupted. "Jennifer. It's Jennifer, right?"

"Yeah," she said, contemplating what to say next. He didn't sound annoyed anymore, giving her confidence to keep with their conversation. "So how do you and your brother know Liz?" Jennifer asked.

A faint pain throbbed in her head, a dull ache behind her eyes, causing her to close them. Lack of sleep, she wondered, getting to her feet slowly. Placing her thumb and index finger against her eyelids, she leaned her hip against the wall, concentrating on the voice in her ear.

"About ten or so years ago, Sammy and I lived for a short period of time in Kansas. She would come over and hang out with my brother. That's how I know her," he stated. "She was closer to Sam than me."

"I guess because of the age thing," Jennifer replied.

"That and I think little Sammy was a bit sweet on her, but if you ask him that, he'll deny it," he said.

She nodded her head in understanding, though he couldn't see her.

"I'm sure the feeling was mutual," she agreed. "I think I met her right after that. I've known her for almost ten years now. I met her at the beginning of high school," Jennifer said, rubbing the area beside her eyes to relieve the pain that still lingered.

A warmth spread over her, thinking about their teenage years – their late night talks of boys, the countless amounts of football games they'd attended, and the trouble they'd gotten into for staying out too late. There wasn't a thing that Jennifer wouldn't do for Liz and vice versa.

"Liz is a good girl," Dean stated. "Our dad used to go away a lot on business trips and I...I was always out doing whatever – getting in trouble. But Liz…she was there to keep him company. To watch over him in some sense. She was a really good friend to him."

"Dude, who are you talking to? Its six in the morning," Jennifer heard on the other end.

"How do you suppose we reunite these two?" Jennifer asked, hastily, pushing off from the wall.

From the silence on the other end, Jennifer thought interference had occurred during their call.

"Hello?" she asked, pressing the phone closer to her ear, as if by chance, the volume was lost on the call.

"I'm here. Sorry. I had to wait for Sam to get in the bathroom. I didn't want him to know that we were plotting to reunite him with Liz," he told her. "I'll fill him in later."

Hearing movement in her dorm room, Jennifer said, "I think Liz is up, so I gotta get off here, but listen. There's a party on KU's campus tonight. It's at the Alpha Kappa Lambda Fraternity House. Can you meet us there? I'll be sure to get Liz there if you can bring Sam."

"I'm in. I'll be sure Sam's there. See you tonight," he said, ending the call.


Dean flung his cell phone on the circular table sitting beside the window. Standing from his seat, he walked to the small, wooden desk. Grabbing one of the clear, plastic cups, he poured hot coffee from the maker into it.

Pursing his lips, he blew on the hot liquid, before bringing it to his mouth. He closed his eyes, relishing in the warm, smooth, rich taste sliding down his throat. Opening his eyes, his attention went to the double queen size beds that stood in front of him. The multi-colored comforter set made him question why motels decorated the rooms the way they did. Did they really think visitors would feel so at home with the cheap motel décor they would want to return?

Sam exited the bathroom, walking back to his bed. He hadn't combed his hair, leaving it in a disheveled state. Falling back against his mattress, he glanced to the clock on the night table, sitting between the two beds. It read six-thirty. Who in their right minds would be calling a person that early in the morning? Unless it was an emergency, but from the sound of Dean's voice that wasn't the case.

"Who was on the phone?" Sam asked, his eyes going to Dean.

Dean pulled the wooden chair from the table, sitting down. Placing his coffee cup on the flat surface, he ran his fingers around the rim of the cup.

"Liz's roommate," he stated, bluntly glancing at his brother for a reaction.

Sam bolted upright in his bed, wide-eyed. She'd called. It may not have been her, but her roommate was a start, at least.

"She got her roommate to call?" he asked, careful to hide the buzz of excitement rising in him from his brother and casually resting his elbow on his thigh as he yawned deliberately.

"Not exactly," Dean explained, propping his legs on the chair opposite him. "Jennifer seems to have figured out that like you, Liz would be too chicken shit to actually call, so she took it upon herself to do it for her. That's an awesome friend if you ask me."

Scowling, Sam replied, "I'm not talking about this."

There was no doubt in Sam's mind Dean still viewed him as his little kid brother, but so much went into seeing Liz again. Her friendship was a link to his past he hadn't thought about in years.

Dean leaned his head back, swallowing the last bit of coffee. "Oh, come on, Sammy! It's alright to be scared sometimes," he joked, standing up.

Watching his brother pour himself another cup of coffee, Sam said, "So, where're we going tonight? I heard you say we'd be there."

Dean walked to his queen-size bed. Placing his cup on the table, he fell back onto the mattress. "We, Sammy, are going to a college party," he said, closing his eyes and sighing.

Rolling his eyes, Sam walked over to the table and retrieved his laptop. "Dean, we don't have time to waste right now," he said, concern written on his face.

Dean stared at the ceiling and said, "It's about time we have a little bit of fun, don't you think? You need to loosen up a bit and this is just the thing that'll do it."

Taking his laptop out of his book bag, Sam sat the device on the table. He sat down, opening the computer screen, booting it up. Covering his mouth, he swallowed the yawn, his eyes watering.

"Dean, we're on a case right now. We should be focusing on that," he said, logging into his computer.

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he groaned.

"Come on, Sam!" he grumbled, propping himself on his elbows. Looking in Sam's direction, he said, "Let's just hold off for one night. Mingle with the locals. Then tomorrow we'll pick up where we left off."

Sam didn't bother acknowledging his brother. Instead, he typed in the address to the local newspaper, searching for any unusual activities within the last week or two.

Realizing Sam was ignoring him, Dean fell back onto his pillow, closing his eyes.

"Whatever, man. I'm going to get some shut eye. We'll head to the sheriff's office in a couple hours," he said, turning on his side.

Sam peeked at his brother and then, back at his laptop. There wasn't anything that popped out at him. Just the usual events. "YOUNG RESIDENTS ATTEND LAWRENCE POLICE CAMP", "LAWRENCE HEALTH OFFICIALS TEST WATERS AT LOCAL POOL", and "LAWRENCE PUBLIC SCHOOLS PROVIDE FREE SUMMER MEALS FOR KIDS". One news heading caught his eye. "KU student murdered; killer still at large".

"Kansas University student, Sandra Grimm, was found dead inside a local fraternity building. Coroner confirms cause of death to be from multiple knife wounds. At the current moment, the killer is still loose. University officials warn students to be careful and walk in groups," he read to himself.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he leaned back against the chair. His hazel eyes scanned through the article again. Grabbing his backpack, he pulled out a small notepad and pen. He scribbled down the university's name and the cause of the accident.

Was it merely a coincidence this murder occurred on campus around the time of his nightmare? His conscience wouldn't give him peace of mind until he ensured it didn't have anything to do with Liz.

Shutting his laptop, Sam stood from his seat and walked back to his bed. He fell back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Finally closing his eyes, he fell back to sleep.


Jennifer opened the door to her dorm room gently, trying not to wake her friend. Seeing the glow from under the bathroom door, she realized Liz was awake. She placed the napkin back on Liz's night table. She didn't want her to have any reason to be suspicious.

She hurried back to her bed and crawled under the blankets. Her mind worked overtime, playing over and over again Sandra's death. It wouldn't allow her to sleep which led her to wonder how long a person could go without sleep before they began to feel the effects.

Hearing the low beep of her cell phone, Jennifer glanced at it. Who on earth could be texting her this early in the morning? For a moment she stared at the blinking blue light on the front of the phone.

Pressing the power button, the screen lit up, showing she had a new text message.

Oct 31 midnight.

Furrowing her brows, she asked, "What the hell does that mean?"

Seeing there was no callback number, she brushed the message off. Someone must have sent the text in mistake. The date didn't sound familiar to her. Ignoring the message, she placed her phone on her night table. Resting her head against her headboard, she waited for her seven a.m alarm to sound, indicating it was time for class.


"Man, do we really have to wear these suits? I feel like a frickin' attorney or something," Dean scowled, tugging on his tie.

Opening the glove compartment, Sam grabbed two FBI badges, handing one to Dean. He placed his badge inside his jacket.

"We gotta look the part, Dean," Sam replied, stepping out of the car.

Looking over top of the car at his brother, Dean replied, "Yeah, whatever."

Sam walked around the Impala, taking his notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket. Flipping the cover, he skimmed the pen across his notes.

"A girl was murdered inside the Alpha Kappa Lambda chapter house. Her murderer is still out there. At the moment, there aren't any leads," he informed Dean, opening the door, allowing his brother to enter.

The two walked into the small police station. Grey-cushioned chairs lined one side of the wall. A thickened glass panel protected a blonde with shoulder-length hair, who sat, taking calls.

Dean walked up to the counter, tapping his knuckle against the glass panel. The woman looked up, opening the door that separated her from the room.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked.

Pulling their badges from their jackets, Dean said, "Hi, I'm Special Agent Tyler and this here is my partner Special Agent Perry." He motioned toward his brother, gazing over his shoulder. "We're here to speak to Officer…" he started, realizing he didn't know any of the officers' names.

Speaking up, Sam interrupted, "Yes. We're here to speak to Officer Staley about a murder investigation on the Kansas University campus."

Motioning toward the chairs, she said, "Have a seat. Let me go see if he's free to see you."

Dean nodded his head. Turning around, he followed Sam to the chairs and sat down.

Turning to his brother, Dean exhaled. "I gotta hand it to you. You really helped me out with that officer's name. I don't know what happened. I blanked," Dean explained.

"I just guessed," Sam said, interlocking his hands, placing them in his lap. "I remember reading his name from the newspaper article."

"Good thinking," Dean said, resting his palms on his thighs.

The two sat in silence briefly, waiting for the officer to see them. Shortly after, the blonde woman returned with another officer. They stood from their seats.

"Agents," the officer acknowledged, shaking each of their hands. "I'm Officer Staley. Want to come back to my office?" he asked, though it wasn't a question.

Dean and Sam followed the officer to his office, walking in. The office was a typical police station office. A glass window pane lined one side of the wall that separated the room from the waiting room. A bookshelf sat in the corner, holding award plaques and trophies.

Officer Staley motioned for the two to have a seat. Walking behind his desk, he sat down. He leaned back against the black roller chair, placing his locked hands on his overgrown belly.

"So, what brings the FBI to Lawrence?" he asked, alternating looks between the two men.

Sam spoke up and said, "We're looking into the death of a university student named Sandra Grimm. We understand that the murderer is still loose, is that right?"

"Yes, that's correct, but we've got several of our best men working on that case," he replied. "It's just so sad when young people like Sandra go too soon. She had a bright future ahead of her, that girl. She was an honor student in all her classes."

"She was found in one of the fraternity's rooms, is that correct?" Sam asked,

The officer nodded. "Yes, she was found in one of the rooms by some of the people who were there."

Scribbling the notes on his notepad, not bothering to look up, Sam said, "We're going to need the names of those students."

"Report says she died from multiple lacerations," Dean stated, looking up from Sam's notepad.

"That's what they tell me, Agent. At the time, the scene was just too bloody to tell anything. But I will say one thing. Whoever did this was one sick son-of-a-bitch," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked.

Looking down at his desk, he said, sadly, "The fact that someone would just murder an innocent girl inside a house full of people."

Standing up from his chair, Sam closed his notepad, placing it in his jacket pocket. "I think that's all we need, officer," he said, extending his hand.

Shaking Sam's hand, the officer said, "I assure you that we are doing all we can to find Sandra's killer."

Officer Staley led the two men to the entrance of the station. As soon as he was back in the building, Dean turned his attention to Sam and said, "Dude, this is not even our kind of case."

"What do you mean it's not our kind of case? It's definitely our kind of case," Sam argued, stepping into the black car.

Dean took his keys out of his pants pocket. Placing them in the ignition, he started the car. "Sam, it's just a simple murder case. Nothing paranormal about it," he stated, loosening his tie, looking straight-forward out the windshield.

"You don't think it's a coincidence that the murder occurred around the time of my dream," he asked, turning his body toward his brother. "Dean, we have to investigate this some more just to be sure that it's nothing to do with Liz," he said.

Turning his head to his brother, Dean rolled his eyes, putting the gear shift into drive. "Fine, but dude, if this is a dead end…" was all he said, as he pulled out of the parking lot.


Jennifer bolted through the double doors, gripping her book bag strap against her shoulder. She was late once again. She had no doubts that Professor Watson would once again chip in with his nasty comments and at this minute, she wasn't sure she would be able to deal with it today. Her mind was fogged and her body dragging as if she had a hangover.

Rushing down the sloping aisle, she ignored the few curious stares she felt from the other students. Everyone else had their attention focused directly ahead, at the board.

Jennifer stopped at the end of one of the rows and looked around for a seat. The auditorium was pretty much packed. Finally spotting one, she hurried to it before she caused any more distraction.

"Excuse me," she apologized, scooting behind a few students.

She sat down behind the desk top that stretched from one end of the row to the other. Leaning her book bag against the chair, she unzipped it, pulling her literature book out. She really had to put the little muscle she had into it.

She reached down to pull out some pens, placing them on the space in front of her. She was oblivious to the silence she had caused as everyone was staring at her.

"Are you finished, late student," she heard, breaking her concentration.

Adjusting her attention back to the professor, she answered, "I'm sorry I'm late. I really am," she told him, shaking her head slightly. "I tried to get here on time, but the halls were crowded. I know that's no excuse but its all I can tell you," she said, defending her lateness.

Mr. Watson stood in front of his desk with his arms crossed. "Young lady, I couldn't care less whether you complete your education. There are students in this forum who actually want to learn and make it their priority to get here on time. I will not tolerate anymore of your lateness. Consider this your warning. Next time, I will dismiss you from the class for the rest of the year," he said, sternly.

She nodded her head, watching as he returned to his lesson.

Feeling someone's attention, Jennifer looked around, making contact with a pair of crystal blue eyes. Jennifer felt a slight flutter in her stomach, all her thoughts disappeared.

Feeling a sense of attraction towards him, shyness overcame her. Bowing her head and lowering her eyelids, one side of her mouth curved upwards. She looked down at her book in front of her, bringing her attention back to the professor.


"Explain to me again why we had to come to this college party," Sam said, walking through the front door of the frat house.

Warmth radiated through the dark room. A white strobe light circled around randomly illuminating the few dancers in the room. Sam peered to his left, noticing a group of jocks wearing letter jackets. He felt a pained feeling inside his stomach. One of the guys was chugging a beer down while the others cheered him on.

Dean followed his brother's gaze around the room and replied, "We've been over this already, Sam. This fraternity house was listed as the murder site in the file. We're going to look around, ask some of the students some questions, and enjoy ourselves tonight."

"And how do you suppose we do that? With a beer in one hand and your mind on the cleavage in the room?" Sam enquired, dryly.

They watched a pair of girls approach, both wearing barely-there halter tops, the only difference between them was one wore a micro mini and the other a pair of leather pants. Dean's mouth quirked up as his gaze wandered over them, returning to look at the tall brunette as they stopped in front of him and Sam, handing each of them a cup.

"Handsome boys like you shouldn't be at a party like this empty-handed," the tall brunette said, dark eyes gazing into his warmly.

"It's practically unconstitutional," the slender strawberry-blonde added with a smile at Sam, looking him up and down in a flirtatious manner. "I'm Sara, this is Melissa, you boys need anything tonight, you come find us. Just call us the Welcome Train!"

Flashing a smile at her, Dean took the cup, bringing it to his lips. "Well, thank you, ladies," he said, his voice a little deeper and warmer. Noticing the change, Sam sighed.

Looking at Sam, he gripped his shoulder and said, "Sam, loosen up a little. Let's have some fun tonight."

The two girls smiled back, leaving the guys. Dean watched them go. It had been a while since he had attended a party of any sort so he was prepared to let loose and enjoy the night. If that included taking one of these college girls back to his room, then Sammy would have to find somewhere else to sleep for the night.

Walking through a crowd of dancers, Dean let his attention travel around the room. He flashed a smile at each girl he passed.

"Hey! How ya doin' tonight, ladies?" he asked a cluster of scantily clad twenty-somethings, grinning as they giggled and whispered to each other.

Looking over his shoulder at his younger brother, he said, "I think I'll be putting in an application to KU next year. The girls here are fine."

He couldn't help but feel a sense of joy for his brother. After their mother's death, his brother became a protector over him. Their father practically forced it upon him. Instead of allowing him to attend school and socialize with kids his own age, their father had him out in a field, at six years old, shooting tin cans. Seeing his brother in this environment, with college students their age, made him happy.

Sam shifted his gaze around the room. Running into the one person he had returned to Lawrence for made him nervous. His heart beat increased and his mind raced as he followed his brother through the crowd of people.

Snapping his fingers in front of Sam's face, Dean said, "Earth to Sammy! I'm going to go ask around and see if anyone remembers anything about that night. Why don't you go find the refreshment table and get a beer or something?" Dean scrunched his face at his brother. "You really look like you're going to pee your pants right now."

Sam snapped back to reality, seeing his brother standing in front of him. "What? Shut up," he said, realizing what Dean had said. "Okay, go see what you can find out. But Dean, if someone asks what your major is, don't you dare say Chemistry or Anatomy. It's the worst pick-up line ever," he said, walking towards the other room.

"What the hell, man?" Dean yelled. "I used that line once! Maybe twice," he said, watching his brother pass the door frame to the next room.


"I party," Liz defended herself, sitting on the kitchen counter top.

Jennifer stood in front of her, bringing the cup filled with Mike's Hard Lemonade to her lips. She was definitely not a beer drinker. To her, the substance tasted like pee. Not that she had drunk pee before but it was what she imagined it to taste like.

"Whatever, Liz. You do not party. When was the last time you came out to one of these things?" Jennifer asked, leaning her hip against the counter.

Liz flashed a smile, leaning forward. Whispering in Jennifer's ear, she said, "You aren't even supposed to be here, remember? You said you were done with parties."

Jennifer leaned her back against the counter, shrugging her shoulder. "Yeah, but as long as you keep me from drinking more than two of these things, then I'm fine," she said, raising her bottle up.

Liz wasn't sure why she was at the party. Jennifer was right. She rarely ever went to these things because she had more important things to do. Studying for one and working at the diner for two. Jennifer had told her earlier that she needed to come out and relax for a change. To help her keep Sandra off her mind. Whether that was true or not, she didn't know.

She looked at her friend, who had her head bowed to the floor, staring mindlessly. Nudging the redhead's arm, she said, "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

"It's hard not to," Jennifer said, raising her head. Peering around the room, she asked, "How do I not think about her when everything in this house reminds me of her?"

Liz leaned down to Jennifer's level, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck. "Jennifer, it's okay for you to feel that way. She was one of your best friends…"

"You're my best friend," Jennifer interrupted, smiling, leaning into Liz.

"Yeah, but she was the one you did all this stuff with," she said, referring to college parties and social events.

Jennifer brought her cup to her lips. Feeling the liquid's tanginess slide down her throat, she shook her head and bowed her head again. She couldn't help but let the sadness in, thinking if she left Liz by herself the same thing would happen to her.

"Why don't you go out and have some fun? I'll just stay here and mingle with these folks" Liz joked, motioning towards a few random strangers who clearly were wrapped in their own conversations.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself. Sandy went off on her own and she never came back. If that was to happen to you…" she stopped, her throat started to close.

"I'll be fine," her friend insisted. "Go. Have fun. If anything happens, I'll call you."

"I don't know…" Jennifer contemplated, gazing at Liz for a moment.

If anything happened to her best friend, she wouldn't be able to ever forgive herself. Liz kept her on a straight and narrow path in a world that oftentimes tempted her to stray off. Last year proved to be one of those times.

Pushing Jennifer away from the counter, Liz said, "Go."

Taking one last glimpse, Jennifer shook her head and reluctantly walked out of the kitchen.

Liz jumped off the counter and grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. There were several other people in the room, standing around the walls, some talking, a couple filling their corner with the strong scent of illegal substances and bluish smoke, another couple who looked as if they were looking for a sanctuary from the chaos in the rest of the house.


After circling the main area, Jennifer made her way to the stairs. She sat down on the second step, glancing around the room. Sighing, she leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a brief moment. It seemed going to these parties didn't feel much like fun anymore.

Feeling someone sit down beside her, she looked to her left. The same crystal blue eyes from the lecture hall looked into hers. The familiar shy feeling from earlier took over as she looked away quickly.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, nudging her arm.

In the past, Jennifer had no trouble interacting with the opposite sex, but as he sat down beside her, all her confidence dwindled away.

Jennifer noticed the way he studied her. Her heart beat increased, her breathing slowed down. Peeking at him, she took note of the black leather jacket he wore over a black t-shirt. One of his palms rested on his black jeans and the other was held out for her to shake.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself today in the classroom," he said, feeling her hand take his. "I'm Daniel."

Feeling her grip his hand gently, his thoughts went back to earlier that day in the auditorium. The woman before him was beautiful. When she had chosen the seat beside him in class, he'd been taken aback by his sudden attraction towards her. His stomach had filled with butterflies and his ability to speak left him, only to worsen when her eyes met his briefly, looking away. Spying the faint pink flush of her cheeks, he wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or the goofy expression he no doubt had on his face. He hadn't been sure if he could trust his feelings but looking at her now, he realized that first impression had been real, those same feelings rising again.

"Jennifer Scott," she said, the corner of her lip curving up.

Stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles, he rested them on the first step. "So now that we have a chance to talk, what do you really think of Professor Watson?" he asked, turning his head to her.

Jennifer rolled her eyes, looking toward the crowd of students.

"He's an ass!" she exclaimed, meeting his eyes.

Daniel nodded, agreeing with her. "Yeah, he's a real jerk! I don't understand why he feels the need to get his kicks out of humiliating his students, but from what I hear, he's been doing this sort of thing for years now," he said, leaning toward Jennifer, allowing a few students to get by.

Feeling Daniel close to her, she could smell the faint scent of cologne. It was an antique smell infused with alcohol.

"So, if he's been doing this for a long time then why doesn't anyone do something about it?" she asked.

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Students need his class to graduate. It's a required course and without it, they're screwed."

Looking at her hands, she laid them on her knees, shaking her head. "That's just ridiculous," she said, leaning toward him to allow another group of students to get by.

"So, what is your major? Tell me. What are your big plans when you graduate?" Daniel asked, smiling warmly.

Looking into his piercing blue eyes, she said, "Uh…I want to be a teacher."

"That's awesome," he said, placing his hand on her arm, enthusiasm in his voice. "What do you wanna teach?"

Jennifer looked at him, relaxing as she saw his interest was genuine and sincere.

"I'd like to teach elementary kids. Like maybe kindergarteners," she told him, crossing her arms and leaning forward on her knees.

Daniel looked toward the crowd of partygoers and laughed. "Oh, wow. Snotty noses and crying kids? I think I'll pass," he joked, winking an eye at her.

Laughing with him, Jennifer said, "No, it's not like that. I've got a little cousin back home. His name is Braedan. He's four-years old," she explained, running her hand through her bangs. "I don't get to see him that often but when I do, he brings a lot of joy to my life. He just radiates goodness and a sense of innocence and when I'm around him, I just want to be good. For him, you know? That's why I want to teach kids. I love them."

As she spoke, Daniel noticed the way her face lit up, seeing the pride and confidence – two of the many traits he loved in a woman.

"Kids are good. I love them too," he said. "They have this way of taking the worst day of your life and without even realizing it, brightening it up. Just by the silly things they do."

Jennifer laughed. "Yeah, they do. So, how about you?" she asked, turning her head, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Any siblings or little ones?"

He rested his back against the railing, smiling warmly. "I have a little sister named Cassie. She's thirteen-years old and thinks she's an adult," he said, laughing. "I guess all teenagers do. But I can already tell I'm going to have to beat the boys off with a stick. She's beautiful."

"Thirteen," Jennifer said, staring in the air briefly, remembering her teen years. "I remember those years of being boy-crazy and wanting to spend every moment with my friends."

Daniel sighed. "Me too. Except I was girl-crazy," he pointed out. "From my own experiences, I know what boys that age have on their mind and believe me, they're not going to get it from my Cassie."

"Cassie's lucky to have an older brother like you in her life. I'm an only child, so I never knew what it was like to have an older or younger brother or sister. My parents divorced when I was thirteen and became too consumed in their own lives to really think about me," she told him, pushing aside those memories as she looked down to her knees. "I surrounded myself with friends and yes, even boys," she said, her smile returning.

"That's why you're close to your cousin, isn't it? He's almost like the sibling you never had," he pointed out.

Jennifer nodded, looking at him. For a moment, they gazed at each other, not saying a word, both still smiling. Without realizing it, Jennifer felt something form between them - a bond, warm and sincere. Daniel got her and for that, she liked him. It surprised her and she realized she wanted to get to know him better.

Daniel looked away, realizing he was staring. It was too easy for him to get lost in her eyes and he wanted to know more about her beyond the beauty. Glancing down at her empty cup, he took it from her hand. "Hey. You're empty. Let me go fill your cup back up and we'll continue this conversation, when I get back," he said, the side of his mouth curving into a smile. "What'd you have?"

Smiling, she nodded and said, "Mike's Hard Lemonade. Thank you."

He got to his feet and pushed himself through the crowd of students, leaving Jennifer to look after him in anticipation for his return. There was an undeniable spark beyond physical attraction between the two and she wanted to explore it more.


Sam walked into the kitchen. It was pretty crowded for a small room. There were people leaned against the sink and counter, deep in their private conversation. In the left corner stood a couple who seemed wrapped into each other, seeing who could shove their tongue down the other's throat the furthest.

Witnessing the display of affection, his mind went to Jess. Memories so fresh, they hadn't settled yet. She had been everything to him – best friend, partner, and soul mate. He couldn't help but feel guilty for not being there to protect her. She should be here with him. That should be me and Jess, he thought, staring at the couple.

He closed his eyes, briefly squeezing them. Opening them again, he walked to the refreshment table, one shaky hand grabbing a beer.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" he heard the familiar voice behind him.

Sam turned and his heart dropped. The nervousness he felt before returned as his heart beat increased.

"Um...I...I was told that this was the place to be tonight. I had no idea you would be here," he lied, his hand trembling, gripping the bottle tighter.

Liz walked past him and leaned back against the counter. Her heart felt like it was going to come out of her chest at any minute. She crossed her arms to hide the tremors in her hands.

"My roommate dragged me here. I don't normally socialize with the "it" crowd on campus," Liz explained, gesturing to the kids around her.

An awkward silence settled between them. Liz took that moment to look him over. He had definitely gotten taller since they were kids. His hair was still the same, bangs falling over his eyes. She still felt her knees go weak when his hazel eyes met hers.

Walking to the refrigerator, Liz glanced behind her. "Why didn't you say anything at the diner yesterday?" Liz asked, opening the door, retrieving a beer.

Sam lifted a hand and scratched his brow nervously, running his hand through his bangs. Shaking his head, he wasn't sure what to tell her.

"Honestly, I don't know. I want to say it was nerves, but that would be a lie. I guess I was just waiting for you to make any sort of acknowledgement that you remembered who I was," he said, his lips curving into a smile. He took the beer from Liz's hand.

"You've changed so much! Look how tall you are!" she exclaimed, looking him up and down. "You're like what? Ten feet tall?" she joked, smiling.

Sam laughed a throaty laugh, bringing out his dimples. Looking down at his beer in his hand, he replied, "You're funny. I'm only six-four."

Bringing his cup to his mouth, he took a drink. "So, tell me. How have you been?" he asked, looking her over.

Seeing her standing in front of him brought back memories. Her smile that could brighten any room and her glowing tan skin awakened old familiar feelings inside him – feelings he hadn't felt since Jess.

Placing her hand on her hip, she teased, "How have I been? Sam, I'm rather upset with you. You never called when you left. I mean, you told me you would call, but you didn't once."

Sam's face softened. "I know I didn't. I'm sorry for that. It's just my life got hectic," he told her, watching as her blue eyes sparkled against the fluorescent lights. "My dad had my brother and me moving all over the place. I never forgot you though. That's why I'm here now, Lizzie," he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

Liz took in a sharp breath, hearing his former nickname for her. She quickly turned her head to hide the warm sensation creeping up her neck.

Sam looked down at her, wondering how much to tell her. Should he tell her about the dream he had of her? If he told her she was in danger, would it scare her away? He never had forgotten her, but that wasn't why he was here now.

"Liz, there's a lot of stuff I haven't told you…"

The music from the other room blared louder at that particular moment. Sam and Liz weren't able to hear anything the other said. Moving closer, Sam touched Liz's arm. Liz looked up at him and smiled shyly.

Moving her lips to his ears, she yelled, "I can't hear you! Wanna go somewhere more quiet?"

Sam nodded, agreeing to follow her.

Breaking from her grasp, he said, "Wait! My brother's here. I need to go tell him I'm leaving. I'll meet you outside."

Without another word, he turned to go find Dean.


From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed someone come to the staircase. The stranger didn't sit down but instead leaned against the railing. Her gaze went from his blue, holey jeans up to his bright green eyes.

The man extended his hand, a smile on his face. "Hi, I'm Dean Johnson," he said, waiting for her to shake his hand.

What was tonight? Come-hit-on-Jennifer night she wondered? She took his hand and shook it.

"Jennifer," she said, looking behind him for Daniel to return.

Dean sat down beside her and leaned his back against the lower part of the rail.

Jennifer took note of his confident stance. Unlike Daniel, this man had a smell that was mixed between motor oil, leather and alcohol. He was cute but unlike Daniel, he was no pretty boy. When they shook, she had felt his calloused hand, evidence he performed handy work.

He leaned his head back against the railing. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Shrugging her shoulders carelessly, she allowed herself to smile. "Actually, this party is getting to be quite boring," she said, sighing.

Leaning toward her, he said, "Well, it's a good thing I came over here when I did, now isn't it? Maybe we can liven this party up."

"So, are you a student here?" she asked, changing the subject.

Peering behind Dean's shoulder, Jennifer noticed Daniel standing a few feet away. He was holding two cups in his hands. Before she could motion for him to come to her, a couple guys walked up to him, urging him to follow them, pushing him further into the crowd.

Her shoulders dropped and she sighed. She felt disappointed that she would have to wait until tomorrow to talk to Daniel again. She felt the two had made a connection, allowing her to feel both nervous and shy again. Something she hadn't felt since Jeremy.

"Hey, Dean!" Jennifer heard, looking in the voice's direction.

She saw a tall male wearing a red Polo walk up them. While he spoke to Dean, Jennifer looked the stranger over. She found that, like Dean, he was rather handsome. His golden-brown skin accentuated his brown shaggy hair and hazel eyes. His shirt hugged against his body, revealing the contours of his arms.

"Sam…" Dean said, standing from the step. "Don't tell me you're done with this party."

"Yeah, I am," he said. "I ran into Liz, which I'm guessing is what you wanted and we're gonna head out of here," he told him.

Hearing the name Liz, Jennifer straightened up. "Liz? Like Liz Lange?" she asked, turning her attention to Sam.

Nodding slightly, he said, "Yeah, you know her?"

Jennifer stood up and extended her hand. Everything began to make sense. These were the Winchester boys. The man in front of her was Sam Winchester, the guy Liz was friends with so many years ago. If he was Sam, then that meant the man she had been talking to was Dean Winchester.

"I'm Jennifer Scott, Liz's roommate. It's nice to finally meet THE Sam Winchester," she said, shaking his hand.

Sam smiled, feeling the softness of her hand. He could see why his brother was drawn here. Jennifer's glow and gentle dimples reminded him of Jess' natural beauty and her warm smile seemed genuine.

"Well, Jennifer. It's very nice to meet you. I see you've already met my brother here," he said, feeling Dean's glare on him. Bowing his head, he scratched the back of his neck, snickering. "Liz and I are going to head out of here. Just to talk," he assured Jennifer.

Jennifer waved for him to go as she turned her attention back to Dean who smiled nervously at her.

"Dean Johnson, huh?" she said, starting to walk toward the kitchen.

"Wait," he said, following after her.

He couldn't let this girl get away from him. Not just yet. Besides the fact that she was beautiful and had an attitude he liked, he really liked talking to her. He couldn't help but think about their conversation on the phone earlier that morning. Hurrying after her, he grabbed her arm.

Jennifer looked pointedly at the hand on her arm.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, bluntly, "If you want to keep that hand of yours, I suggest you let go of me."

Letting her go, he looked to the ground. For the first time ever, he was speechless. He wasn't sure what was going on in his stomach, but something was moving around in there. Butterflies maybe? Nah! Dean Winchester didn't get butterflies.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized, holding his hands out in surrender. "Look, Jennifer. My name is Dean Winchester. We spoke this morning on the phone. Don't you remember?" he asked, his voice faltering.

Meeting his apologetic eyes, Jennifer gave in. "Yes, I remember," she told him, sighing. "I don't understand why you felt you needed to lie to me," she stated, noticing his gaze intently on her.

Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I guess it's what I do," he told her, looking around them. "It's my way of picking up girls I guess you could say," he said.

Shaking her head, Jennifer said, "Well you aren't going to get any decent girls that way." She grabbed his arm. "Come on! Let me get you another beer," she said, pulling him with her.

"Lead the way," Dean said, following her willowy form through the partying college co-eds into the next room.


"So, this is the big University of Kansas?" Sam asked, reaching the last step of the stairway.

Walking beside Liz, Sam took a moment to look around the hallway. The cleanliness of the hall made it obvious this was a women's dorm floor. Placing his hands in his pockets, Sam noticed the smile that never left Liz's face. It was obvious she took pride in her school.

Speaking up, he said, "Before my brother came and got me, I was attending Stanford."

As the two walked side by side, Liz had been focusing on the wall beside her, trying to figure out what to show Sam next.

Hearing the news, she gave him a heartfelt smile, nudging his arm. "That's amazing, Samwich!" Liz exclaimed proudly. "I always knew there was a brain up there some where," she joked, reaching up to shuffle his hair around.

Looking down at her, he shrugged his shoulders. "I WAS at Stanford," he said. Looking down at the blonde, he said, "I had an interview to get into law school…then Dean turned up on my door step asking me to go on this road trip with him. So, needless to say, law school has been put on hold."

Liz wondered why Sam would give up an interview to get into law school just to go on a road trip with his brother. Glancing up at him, she started to open her mouth to ask but felt it die in her throat, realizing that he wasn't the boy she'd known. The familiarity they had with each other back then was gone. She closed her mouth, realizing she didn't know him at all now.

The pair walked down the hall, passing room by room. Opened doors revealed several students inside. As they passed, Sam glanced into each one. One in particular caught his eye. The room was completely black except for the flickering flames of several candles situated in various areas. He found himself drawn to the room as if there was a line pulling him towards it. A shadow flew past the doorway, slamming it shut. A startled Sam snapped back to where he was.

Liz stood in front of her door, looking at an intrigued Sam who seemed to be staring at a closed door. She knew exactly which door he was looking at. Whenever she walked by it, the room gave her the heebie-jeebies. The rumor of the dorm hall was the girl who lived in that room practiced witch craft. Not the simple love spells but more dark stuff like black majik.

"Sam? Are you coming?" Liz asked, pushing her key into the key slot. The door swung loosely open as if it had never been locked.

Glancing at Sam, her eye brows crinkled, she said, "That's weird. I could have sworn I locked this before I left."

Taking a hold of Liz's arm, Sam pulled her behind him gently. "Hold on. Wait here," he said, entering the room and turning on the light.

Everything in the room seemed to be in place - nothing looked suspicious. He took a look in the closet, moving hangers of clothes. He looked under the bed. Still, nothing. Coming to the conclusion that everything was safe, he told Liz to come in.

"Everything seems to be okay. Maybe you did forget to lock the door," he suggested, raising his eye brows.

"Yeah, maybe," Liz replied, looking around the room.

Everything did seem to be in place but Liz still wasn't sure she had forgotten to lock the door. She dropped her coat on the edge of her bed, walking over to the small refrigerator that sat in the corner.

"Want a beer?" she asked him, grabbing a longneck for herself.

"Yeah. Thanks," he said, gazing around the room.

Sam looked at one of the beds, seeing that it hadn't been made for the day.

Liz took note of this and said, "That's my roommate's bed. She hates making it. Her logic is you're just going to mess it up that night, why bother making it."

He snickered. "Sounds like my brother," he replied.

Walking over to a bookshelf, sitting in the corner of the room, he looked at each of the picture frames. Each frame displayed a year in Liz and her roommate's life. He took note of a picture of some guy holding Liz from behind in a lover's embrace. A prom photo, judging by the formal dress and tuxedo they both wore.

Walking over to him, Liz handed Sam his beer. She took a swig of hers and allowed him to continue exploring the room. She saw his stare focus on a picture of Jennifer and her. Pom poms and high ponytails proved that she had been a cheerleader at one time. Sam started to laugh. Hearing his laugh again made Liz miss him even more. Whenever she heard that sound, it brought a smile instantly to her face.

Pointing to the picture, he looked at her, still laughing. "You were a cheerleader, Lizzie? Look at those legs," he exclaimed.

Nodding her head, rolling her eyes, she took a swig of her beer. "Laugh all you want but I was fairly good at cheerleading," she defended. "Our squad won many championships," she bragged, pushing his arm.

"Hey, I met her tonight," he indicated, pointing towards the girl who had her arm wrapped around Liz in an embrace. "She was with Dean tonight."

Smiling, Liz said, "That's my best friend and roommate, Jennifer. These are her pictures actually. She doesn't like to admit it, but she's a softy at heart. Always keeping things as memories."

Sitting down, she brushed a curl from her forehead with her fingertips. Liz sat down on the end of her bed and motioned for Sam to sit down on Jennifer's that faced hers. She still couldn't get over how much he had grown. The last time the two had been in a room together, he had been this small, scrawny young boy and now he stood at well over six feet tall. Looking at his short sleeves, she could see his muscles pressed against it.

He sat down in front of her, bringing the bottle to his lips. Looking around the room again, he asked, "So, did your roommate decorate this place?"

His eyes fell on a flat screen television with several DVDs lying around it. The walls held a few movie posters; one of Titanic and the other of Casablanca.

"Another one of her many talents. If it wasn't for her, this place would be a plain ol' dorm room," Liz complimented her friend.


Walking into the dimly lit rec room, Jennifer sat down on the couch, located against the wall. A small crowd surrounded the flat screen television as a couple students played Guitar Hero. She patted the seat beside her for Dean to sit down.

Taking his jacket off, he laid it across the back of the couch and sat down beside her. The two-seater couch had just enough room for them to remain comfortable.

"So, I see our mastermind plan worked," he stated. "Sammy and Liz met up and we didn't have to do anything but bring them here. I say that's fate."

"Fate has a funny way of working like that. Stick two people into a building together and they're bound to find each other," she said, watching the men, strumming their guitars like rock stars.

Dean turned his attention to where her eyes were and shook his head at the video game. Who would waste their time on such mindless games when you could go outside and shoot something?

"So, I heard a girl was murdered here last night," he said, looking around the room.

The comment startled Jennifer, her heart accelerating suddenly, thudding against her chest. The statement had come out of nowhere but there was no way she would let herself break down. Not now. Not in front of a new friend.

"Yeah…there was a murder here last night," she confirmed, looking at him.

"Were you here last night?" he asked.

"I was," she said.

Dean turned his body to face her, resting his right arm on the back of the couch. "So, did you see anything? I heard it was a gruesome mess," he stated.

Realizing she would have to eventually talk about the murder, she bowed her head, the memories fresh in her mind. She raised her head, turning her body to the man beside her. Rising off the couch a bit, she rested her leg under her bottom, resting her hand on her knee.

"The girl's name was Sandra Grimm. A good friend of mine – best friend actually," she told him, looking at his face.

Eyes widening a bit, he realized he had hit the jackpot with this case. Forget the interviews. He had found the dead girl's best friend who was bound to know all. Sammy could keep his Google and research. Dean had found the answer.

"We were upstairs talking and scoping the place like we always do…and she insisted getting me another drink even though I told her I didn't want one," she said, looking down to her hands.

"She never came back?" he asked, searching her face for answers.

Shaking her head, Jennifer answered, "No. And it didn't even occur to me to go look for her. I figured she had just gotten tied up with some friends."

Dean rested his head against his hand, staring intently at the shadowed curves in her cheeks, taking in every word she said.

"What kind of friend doesn't know there best friend is in danger?" Jennifer asked him, her head bowing down.

His heart fell at the sadness he could see filling her eyes, from the memories of her friend. Placing his finger under her chin, he raised her head to look at him. He couldn't help but be mesmerized by the radiant energy she set off.

"That guilt you feel," he said, looking into her eyes. "Get rid of it now. There's no reason for it. Your friend was murdered and unless you killed her or know the person who did, you shouldn't feel guilty."

Jennifer nodded, looking into his eyes. The brightness of his green eyes and his kind smile made her feel comfortable and at ease.

Dean said nothing and stared at the girl beside him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lower his head to her lips and kiss her, but his conscience told him it wasn't the right time. He knew that. But something unexplainable was pulling him towards her and he was afraid one wrong move would mess that up.

Returning to reality, he asked, "Did your friend have any enemies? Anyone who may have wanted to hurt her?

"I know it's cliché to say that everyone loved her, but honestly, they did. Sandy was fun and knew how to have a good time. I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt her," Jennifer said, shaking her head as an unexpected yawn escaped her lips.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"Hey, there. Don't you be getting sleepy on me?" he said, touching her arm gently.

She shook her head, leaning against the couch. "No, I'm not tired. Tonight has just been really strange for me," she told him, wrapping her arms around herself.

"There you are." The two heard, looking up to see Daniel.

Jennifer's eyes lit up, seeing the dark-haired man standing in front of her. His bright blue eyes looked down at her and the familiar feelings returned. But as quickly as they came, they disappeared, remembering the man sitting beside her. Her heart accelerated faster scared of what Daniel would think.

"I tried looking for you, but you had already left. I looked everywhere for you except obviously here," he said, motioning toward the room, lips curving into a smile.

He glanced at Dean briefly, raising an eyebrow and looked back at Jennifer. He felt his heart sink, seeing her with someone else, but her smile gave him hope they still had a possibility to form some sort of relationship. Whether it be romantic or on a friendship level.

An uneasy feeling formed inside Dean's stomach as he stared at the man staring at Jennifer. He couldn't get over the fact that he somehow knew this man from somewhere but without knowing where or how, he had no idea if their encounter was a good one or a bad one.

"Daniel, I'm sorry. I just got to talking and the room was getting noisy. I had to get out of there," she said. "This is Dean. Dean, this is Daniel."

Looking up, he said, "Nice to meet you." Not able to shake the feeling he had, he asked, "Do I know you? I swear I've met you somewhere."

"Same to you and no, I don't think we've ever met" Daniel replied. Turning his attention back to Jennifer, he said, "I'm ready to get out of her. I'm not sure if you are too but if you want, I can walk you home?"

Jennifer got to her feet quickly, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in her stomach. She was relieved that he wanted to continue their conversation which could be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Dean winced inwardly, seeing the speed of her response. Standing up from the couch, he grabbed his jacket. He didn't know what it was about this girl, but he wanted an opportunity to find out more about her and he needed to know how much of her friend's murder she had seen.

Dean held his hand out. "It's nice meeting you, Jennifer. I'm sure we'll see each other again," he said, as she took his hand. Taking one last glance at Daniel, he nodded briefly, walking out of the room. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out where he had seen this man before.

Jennifer looked back at the man, standing beside her and smiled. "I thought I was going to have to wait to see you tomorrow," she said, bumping his arm.

Resting his hand on the lower of her back, he nudged her forward. "No, we can talk some more on our way back to your room. Let's get out of here," he said, following her out of the party.