Hello lovelies!

So I told you that I would have this chapter up by next Wednesday, but I decided to post it a little early because why not? Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, but I do own Rose Singer.

Chapter Two

I followed the Impala on my Harley, grateful for the cool blasts of wind that kept me alert as the sun slowly began to rise. Nostalgia bubbled up in my throat as I drove. It had been so long since I'd been on a hunting trip. I'd never admit it to Sam, but I'd actually missed this life. My separation from hunting was never meant to be permanent, although I knew that Sam intended his to be. While Sam had studied Law and prepared himself for the normal life he'd always wanted, I'd studied Anthropology, specializing in mythology and folklore. I kept up with my skills, practicing whenever Sam wasn't around.

The sky turned gray, and the highway seemed to never end. My eyes drooped slightly. I knew I should pull over, but I also knew that Dean wouldn't hesitate to leave me behind at the first sign of weakness, so I pushed on. The horizon continued to lighten as dawn approached, and I thanked whoever was listening for the cold air that kept me awake. I could operate for a long time on no sleep, but I was quickly reaching my threshold.

Eventually, Dean pulled the Impala into a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere and I pulled in beside him, grateful for the chance to rest, even if only for a few minutes. Dean exited the car without a word to me and made his way inside the building. I noticed the sign on the pump that said "Pay Indoors." Groaning, I dismounted. Sam exited the car and gave me a speculating look.

"You're exhausted," he noted. I glared at him.

"Well, someone woke me up at 4:00 this morning. What did you expect?" I snapped. Sam raised his eyebrows slightly at my harsh tone.

"Are you sure you should be driving like this?" he asked. I waved him away.

"I'm fine," I assured him. Sam frowned slightly. At that moment, Dean came back out carrying an armful of junk food.

"Breakfast?" he offered to Sam. Sam shook his head.

"No thanks," he declined politely. Dean turned to me.

"What about you, Princess? Food?" I eyed the bags in his arms warily. The rumble in my stomach decided for me.

"Hand me that jerky," I ordered. He tossed it at me. I grabbed for the bag, but my fingers fumbled and it slipped to the ground. Sam looked up, fully alert now.

"You need to rest," he said, his jaw set stubbornly. I glared.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"Rose, you're no use to anyone when you're dead on your feet," Sam argued. I rolled my eyes.

"I missed the catch," I snapped, bending down to grab the jerky, "It happens."

"When was the last time you slept?" Dean interrupted. I turned to him. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held something that might have been concern.

"I was sleeping when you boys came banging on my door this morning," I growled. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah okay, and how long were you sleeping for?" he demanded. I kept silent. I didn't want to admit that I'd been asleep for less than an hour when they'd arrived. Dean nodded at my silence.

"Thought so," he said.

"Rose, when did you last get a full night's sleep?" Sam asked gently. I opened my mouth to reply, but then stopped. I frowned. I couldn't actually remember the last time I'd slept for more than a couple hours. Had it been last Tuesday?

"Alright, I've heard enough," Dean sighed, "Rose. Get in the Impala. You can sleep for the rest of the way. Sammy, you take the Harley and follow us into Jericho," he ordered. I opened my mouth to protest, but Sam and Dean both glared at me, daring me to argue. I knew I couldn't take both of them. With a huff, I climbed into the Impala, muttering about overprotective brothers. Sam smiled as he caught wind of what I was saying.

As I shut the door, I heard Sam talking to Dean.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby 12-year-old. It's Sam now."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean growled back. I could tell he was no more thrilled about having me in the Impala than I was, which made me wonder why he'd bothered. Jess's voice ran through my mind as she talked about her insane theory. I dismissed that thought quickly. Dean had made it very clear that I was just another pain in his ass.

"How'd you even buy this food?" Sam asked. I closed the door at this, uninterested in hearing Dean brag about his latest credit card scam. I leaned my head against the window, and allowed myself to doze off.

I woke again to find Dean casting anxious glances in my direction as we drove down the California highway. I yawned and stretched the kinks out of my muscles, ignoring Dean's stare.

"Feeling any better?" he asked casually. I shot him a wary look. His face was relaxed and earnest. He wasn't looking for a fight.

"Loads," I admitted. I felt more rested than I had in weeks, "Thanks." Dean shrugged.

"Sammy's right," he explained, "You're no good to anyone sleep deprived." I rolled my eyes. Of course he was thinking about that. Ever the strategist. John trained him well.

"You know he really hates it when you call him that," I remarked. Dean ignored me.

"Are you having nightmares?" he asked. I tensed. Very few people knew about my nightmares, and Sam was the only one who ever brought them up. Dean waited patiently for my reply.

"I always have nightmares," I stated finally, careful to keep emotion out of my voice. Dean frowned slightly.

"I thought they'd gotten better?" he said. I looked away, focusing my attention on the passing landscape.

"Yeah…well, they didn't," I muttered.

"Rosie…could we just—

"Don't call me that," I snapped. Dean frowned.

"I've always called you that," he said.

"Yeah, well you don't get to call me that anymore," I said, "You made it very clear where we stand the last time we saw each other."

"Rosie—Dean paused as I glared at him.

"Rose," he corrected himself reluctantly, "I was…upset then, I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

"Whatever, Dean," I sighed, "I don't feel like rehashing the past. It's done. Let's just concentrate on finding your father and then I can get out of your life again." For a moment, Dean looked as if he might argue, but then he nodded.

"Fine," he agreed, "Why don't you check the glove compartment. There should be numbers to the local hospitals and morgues around Jericho. Call them and see if you can get a hit on Dad's description." I nodded, reaching for the glove compartment. I could handle orders. They were infinitely better than emotions when it came to Dean.

I hung up the phone and looked over at Dean.

"Okay so there's no one matching your father's description in the hospital or morgue," I waited for Dean's reaction. Nothing.

"Dean…this is good news," I prodded. He grunted. As we rounded the corner we came upon a bridge sectioned off by police tape. A group of officers were inspecting a car parked in the middle of the bridge, while another group was trudging through the water below, clearly searching for evidence. Dean pulled over.

"Check it out," Dean mumbled. Without warning he leaned across me and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a box filled with fake IDs. He grabbed one saying Federal Marshall, and began to get out of the car. I reached for the box, but Dean stopped me.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. I frowned.

"I'm looking for a badge, what does it look like?" Dean shook his head.

"No, you're staying here," he said. I felt a growl rise up in my throat.

"Like hell," I snapped, "I can help."

"I don't even have any badges in there for you," Dean argued. I smiled. I reached into my purse and pulled out my own badge.

"Lucky that I do," I said, dangling it in front of his face. He glowered down at me, but said nothing. Finally he slammed the car door shut and waited as I exited the car. As we walked towards the officers I heard him mutter under his breath.

"Bitch," he growled.

"Dick," I chirped back cheerfully. As we approached, I heard one of the officers speaking.

"So this kid, Troy—he's dating your daughter isn't he?"

"Yeah," said another officer.

"How's Amy doing?" asked the first man.

"She's putting up missing posters downtown," sad the second man.

"You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn't you?" asked Dean. I held back a slight smile. I'd always enjoyed watching Dean get information out of people. He had the ability to belong just about anywhere. It came in handy when investigating. The first officer straightened up from where he'd been inspecting the car. He eyed us both suspiciously, but I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on me just a little bit longer.

"And who are you?" the man asked.

"Federal Marshals," Dean supplied, holding out his badge. The man's eyes narrowed.

"You two are a little young for Marshalls, aren't you?" he asked. This time he blatantly ran his eyes over me. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or smack him. He was cute enough, I suppose, and the fact that he found me attractive could prove useful in the long run.

"That's sweet," I told him, flashing him my best smile. His chest puffed just slightly at the attention, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"You had another one just like this, correct?" Dean pressed, and I thought I caught a hint of annoyance in his voice. The young officer frowned slightly at Dean, but nodded.

"That's right," he agreed, "About a mile up the road. And there have been others before that."

"And you knew him?" I asked, placing just a touch of sympathy into my voice. The man nodded gravely.

"In a town like this one, ma'am, everybody knows everybody. Troy was a nice kid."

"Was there any connection between the victims?" I pressed, "Aside from the fact that they were all men, of course." He shook his head.

"Not so far as we can tell," he admitted. I nodded, taking a step closer.

"So do you men have any theories?" I asked. He shrugged.

"Honestly? We don't know. It could be a serial killer, or a kidnapping ring."

"Well that is just the kind of crack police work I would expect out of you guys," Dean observed harshly. I glared at him, stepping on the inside of his foot to show my displeasure. He hissed and shot me a dirty look, which I ignored. I looked back at the young officer, who was frowning at the two of us, and smiled brightly.

"Well thank you Officer…" The man startled.

"Oh, Brady ma'am," he supplied enthusiastically, offering his hand to shake. I grasped it firmly and gave it a quick shake, keeping up my smile.

"Deborah," I lied. "We'll be in touch." Then I turned and walked away, grabbing Dean by the arm as I did so. When we were further away, Dean elbowed me in the ribs. I glared at him.

"Ow!" I hissed, "What the hell?"

"Why did you have to step on my foot?" Dean demanded angrily. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't be such a baby," I told him, "And anyway, why did you have to be such a dick? He's only doing his job." Dean snorted.

"Well evidently his job includes looking down your shirt." I rolled my eyes.

"Don't start with the big brother thing," I told him, "It's not appreciated."

"I'm not being your big brother!" Dean protested, "I just think that maybe he'd get a bit more done if he looked at the evidence instead of your boobs. I mean come on! They don't really know what they're doing. We're all alone on this. If we're ever gonna find Dad, we have to get to the bottom of this ourselves." We passed a couple of men with FBI jackets on our way back to the Impala. The man leading them looked like he might be the sheriff of Jericho.

"Can I help you folks?" he asked as we passed. I shook my head and smiled at him.

"No sir, we were just leaving," Dean told him. "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," he greeted the two agents. I held back a chuckle at his reference and shook my head. I didn't say a word as we walked back to the Impala.

As we drove away, I tried hard to ignore Dean's eyes on me. I didn't want to get into an argument, and I knew that was inevitable with him.

"I think Sam is probably downtown, waiting for us. I'll call him," I offered before taking out my phone and pressing the number for Sam's speed dial. The phone rang twice before Sam picked up.

"Where are you guys?" he asked urgently. I could hear the worry in his voice.

"We stopped to question some officers over at the bridge just outside of town," I explained to him, "Apparently there's been another disappearance. Some guy named Troy."

"Yeah, I noticed the missing persons posters around town," Sam noted grimly, "I guess it happened some time last night."

"Yeah one of the officers mentioned that his girlfriend was hanging up posters," I agreed, "We're on our way into town. Where are you?"

"I'm at this internet café downtown," Sam said, "It's called 'The Bean.'"

"Okay, we'll be there soon," I offered.

"Got it," he said, before hanging up. I turned to Dean.

"Sam's at this internet café downtown called 'The Bean,'" I explained, "I told him we'd meet him there." Dean nodded. There was nothing more to say.

"Is he happy?" Dean's voice cut through the silence.

"Sorry, what?" I asked.

"Sam," Dean explained, "Is he happy? At college?" I studied Dean's face carefully. His jaw was tense, and he was avoiding meeting my eyes.

"Yeah," I answered finally, "He loves it there. And he loves Jess." Dean nodded.

"What about you?" Dean asked. I jolted in surprise.

"What about me?"

"Are you happy there?" Dean prodded. I thought about this.

"I have Sam, and Jess," I responded slowly, "And I guess there are worse places to be." I knew there were worse places. I'd been to them.

"But are you happy?" Dean pressed. He met my eyes this time. I'd forgotten how green his eyes could get.

"I don't know," I answered finally. Dean frowned.

"How do you not know?" he demanded, "It's a fairly simple question."

"Is it?" I whispered, "Because it doesn't feel simple." I looked at him, waiting for an answer. The car stopped.

"We're here," he said finally. He was out of the car before I could call him back. I sighed heavily. This was why I didn't like to spend too much time alone with Dean. It was exhausting. I followed him into the café and looked around for Sam. He was sitting in the corner with his computer out. I pushed past Dean and made my way over to him, grinning as I sat down.

"You've no idea how good it is to see you," I told him. Sam looked up, smiling. He raised an eyebrow as Dean sat down next to me with a grunt.

"You two have fun?" Sam asked, smirking at Dean and I. I huffed. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Fun is not the word I would use to describe this morning," Dean answered honestly. Sam looked at me and I shrugged.

"Did you learn anything useful?" Sam asked. I shook my head.

"We learned that the latest victim had a girlfriend," Dean said, "And that cops are idiots." I elbowed him lightly. Dean glared.

"Be nice," I ordered. Dean grunted.

"Anyway, I think the girlfriend should be our next move," Dean told Sam, "If anyone might be able to give us an idea of why he was taken, she would." I nodded.

"Dean's right," I agreed. Both boys looked at me. Dean looked particularly shocked.

"What?" I demanded.

"You agreed with something I said?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Oh don't act so shocked," I told him, "You're a dick. It doesn't mean you don't have good ideas every now and then." Dean considered this.

"I think that was almost a compliment," he muttered incredulously. I rolled my eyes.

"We need to figure out what the connection is between the victims," I explained impatiently, "And the only way we're going to do that is if we dig deeper into the victims' lives. Amy seems like a good start." Sam nodded.

"Okay, so we need to find Amy," he stated firmly.

"But how are we going to do that?" Dean asked, "We don't even know what she looks like."

"It's a small town," Sam said. "It can't be that hard to track her down." I tuned out of their conversation, and stared blankly out of the window. There was a girl across the street hanging up posters. I straightened in my seat. She was hanging up missing posters.

"Guys," I said, getting their attention, "I think I found Amy." Both guys looked at me, confused. I pointed out the window.

"I think that's her," I told them. Dean and Sam both looked out the window.

"Right then, Princess," Dean smiled, "It looks like we'd better get moving." I narrowed my eyes.

"Don't call me princess," I told him as I followed him out of the booth. Sam followed behind us, looking on in amusement. I glared back at him.

"Do you think this is funny?" I asked. Sam smiled.

"Hilarious," he asserted. I rolled my eyes. Boys.

We crossed the street casually and made our way to where the girl, Amy, was hanging up her posters.

"You must be Amy," Dean greeted her. The girl looked up and eyed us suspiciously. She had dark hair and heavy eyeliner. She dressed the way I used to when I was fifteen, in dark colors that probably made old women glare at her when she passed by. A pentagram hung around her neck.

"Yeah," she answered warily. Dean smiled charmingly at her.

"Troy told us about you," he lied cheerfully, "We're his uncles. I'm Dean and this is Sammy." Amy's eye flitted between the two men and then turned to me.

"Who's she?" she asked suspiciously. I felt Sam snake his arm around my waist as he pulled me closer.

"This is my girlfriend, Rose," Sam explained. I leaned into him a little and smiled.

"Hi," I greeted her. Amy just rolled her eyes.

"Troy never mentioned you guys to me," she insisted. Dean laughed.

"Well that's Troy," he waved dismissively, "We're not around much. We're up in Modesto." Amy didn't look entirely convinced.

"We're looking for him, too," Sam jumped in, "and we're kind of asking around." A girl came up to us, eyeing our group uneasily. She turned to Amy.

"Hey, are you okay?" the girl asked. Like Amy, she was sporting the Goth chic look. I recognized the question. It was the same one Jess asked whenever she thought I was uncomfortable with the latest skeeveball hitting on me. Amy turned to her friend and smiled weakly.

"Yeah," she assured the girl. The new girl nodded, but didn't leave.

"Do you mind if we ask you girls a couple of questions?" Sam asked. Both girls shrugged.

"There's a diner down the street," Amy offered, "We could go there to talk." We all voiced our agreement and followed Amy and her friend as they led us into Joe's Diner.

Amy and her friend went straight to a booth in the back, and I had the feeling that this was their usual seat. Both girls slid into one of the booths, while I was forced to squeeze between Sam and Dean, opposite of them. Sam kept his arm around me, keeping up with the illusion of being my boyfriend. I went with it. Sam and I had always been very comfortable around each other, so it didn't seem too awkward when I leaned into his side, although Dean sent us a weird look.

A waitress came and took our drink orders, and then we got straight to business.

"Can you tell us about the night Troy disappeared?" Sam asked. Amy nodded.

"I was on the phone with Troy," she explained. "He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and he never did." Amy closed her eyes, and my heart ached for her. I couldn't imagine what it must be like to never know what happened to your loved one. The girl sitting next to her rubbed Amy's back, her face sympathetic.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked. Amy shook her head.

"No," she admitted, "Nothing that I could remember." She looked as if she were desperately searching through her memories of that night, looking for something that could help find Troy. I felt Dean shift beside me. He leaned forward on his elbows, his face hard.

"Here's the deal ladies," he said, "the way Troy disappeared—something's not right. So if you've heard anything…" He trailed off, leaving the conversation open. Amy's friend shifted in her seat.

"What?" I asked her, "What is it?" The girl looked away in discomfort.

"Well, it's just—I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," she smiled apologetically at Amy as she said this.

"What do they talk about?" I looked at Dean and Sam, who had spoken at the same time that I had. I almost wanted to laugh at how 'in sync' we all were. The girl sighed.

"It's kind of this local legend," she explained, "This one girl, she got murdered on Centennial like…decades ago." We all nodded. The girl seemed uncomfortable with all of the attention, especially in front of Amy, who seemed unhappy. "Well supposedly she's still out there," the girl continued. "She hitchhikes. And whoever picks her up—well, they disappear forever." We sat in silence for a moment and the girl blushed.

"Well it's just a story," she mumbled.

"Exactly," Amy said icily, "A story." Amy stood up.

"It was nice meeting you," she muttered before stalking away. The other girl stood hastily, visibly upset.

"I'm sorry," she called to us as she rushed after Amy, calling her name. We sat there for a moment in silence, before Sam slid into the opposite booth. I breathed a sigh of relief at no longer being squished into Dean.

"It sounds like an angry spirit to me," I told them. They nodded.

"We need to be sure though," Sam insisted, "We should stop by the library in town and see if we can dig anything up on this 'hitchhiker.'" I nodded.

"So what are we waiting for then?" Dean demanded. I glanced at him, confused. Dean seemed to be in a bad mood, although I couldn't really tell why. Sam shrugged and hopped up out of the booth. With a flourish he held out a hand to help me up, which I graciously accepted.

"Thank you," I said with a smile. Sam smiled back. Dean grumbled as he followed us out of the diner.

"Do we actually know where the library is?" I asked Sam as we stood outside. Sam nodded.

"I looked it up while you guys were interrogating those cops," he explained. "It's not far. Follow me." He led us onto a different street and into a large building. As we entered the library I breathed in the familiar and comforting smell of books. I felt the tension in my shoulders relax. We wandered through the building until we came across a computer where we could do our research. Dean sat down and immediately pulled up the digital archives for the town's newspaper. Sam and I both took seats beside him, watching as he ran a search.

Dean typed in the words "Female. Murder. Hitchhiking," into the server and waited. The computer beeped as it stated that there were no articles matching the keywords. Dean tried again. "Female. Murder. Centennial Highway." No result.

"Let me try," suggested Sam. Dean waved him off.

"I got it," he muttered. I huffed. Without a word, I rolled Dean's chair away from the computer and took my seat.

"Dude!" Dean protested. "You're such a control freak."

"And you're an idiot," I snapped back. "I study anthropology. Research is what I do." I started typing.

"So angry spirits are born out of a violent death, right?" I asked as I typed.

"Yeah…" Sam and Dean agreed hesitantly.

"So what if…" I mumbled to myself, "It wasn't murder." I typed in my search "Female. Centennial Highway. Suicide." The search brought up one result. I clicked on it. Sam leaned closer to read.

"This was 1981," he read, "Constance Welch, 24 years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge. Drowns in the river."

"Does it say why she does it?" Dean asked. I searched the article.

"Yeah," I answered quietly.

"What?" Dean demanded impatiently.

"She lost her kids," I responded sadly. "It says here that she left them alone in the bathtub for a moment, and when she came back, they weren't breathing. Both drowned."

"'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband, Joseph Welch." Sam read aloud. Dean pointed at the picture on the screen.

"Does that bridge look familiar to you?" he asked me. I nodded. It was the same bridge we'd been on earlier today.

"Looks like we better get a closer look," I noted grimly.

Well I hope you enjoyed that chapter! The story behind Rose and Dean's complicated relationship is something I'm really looking forward to exploring. Anyway I'm gonna go do writing stuff. If you liked the chapter feel free to leave a review.

xoxo,

Lani