(The last chapter felt a little rushed, so I tried to take me time a little more on this one…enjoy)

Chapter Two

The Monroe household was empty except for Becca. She sat on the living room couch, wrapped in a floral comforter. Her mother had left for the store only moments before, but to Becca, it seemed like an eternity. Every time she turned around she thought a shadow was some kind of other-worldly creature come to force her down into the gates of Hell.

Becca had never been this paranoid. She had always considered herself the voice of reason. When all the other girls were sitting around telling ghost stories, she was in the library reading history books, learning about the real ghosts of the past. But now that Joanna and Adrianne were gone, murdered right in front of her, she couldn't stop seeing monsters everywhere.

In an effort to think about something else for a change, she turned on the TV. She regretted this instantly. It showed the old Jensen place, surrounded by cops and reporters. They were talking about the murder. It showed two gurneys being rolled into an ambulance, each covered with a blood-soaked sheet . She clicked off the TV and threw the remote as far away from her as she possibly could. Then, she wrapped up tighter with the blanket and hugged her legs to her stomach.

When she heard the doorbell, she jumped about three feet in the air. Chill she told herself. She looked through the peak hold in the door and saw two men standing on the other side. They didn't look like reporters, but then, who really knew what reporters looked like anyway? She opened the door cautiously.

"Can I help you?" She asked, ready to slam the door in their faces if they requested an interview with her.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam." one of them answered. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?"

"I'm sorry, but I've done enough interviews." She began to close the door.

"Wait!" the other one, Sam, exclaimed before she could close it all the way. "I know you've been through a lot. But we need to talk to you. We're not reporters."

"Then who are you?" Becca asked suspiciously.

"We were friends of Adrianne," Dean said, bowing his head in respect.

"Please, we just need a few answers," Sam urged.

"Yeah for…..closure and all that," Dean added.

Becca still wasn't sure whether or not she believed them, but she reasoned that if she were in their shoes, she would want the same thing. She reluctantly opened the door for them and showed them into the living room.

"So, you were there…..when it happened?" Sam asked delicately, obviously trying to be sensitive, unlike the many reporters who had come before these two.

"Kind of," she answered honestly. "I didn't see what happened to her, if that's what you mean." she hung her head in shame.

"What do you mean? I thought that you were camping with them," Dean asked.

"Well I was," she recalled that night, "You see, this is what happened. We were camping out by the lake when we got the bright idea to scare each other. It was so immature. Todd was telling ghost stories and trying to get a rise out of Joanna and me," a tear slid down her face as she said her late best friends name. "Anyway, he told us the old Jensen legend, which totally freaked me out. Then, he and Adrianne got the bright idea to check out the old house. I didn't want to go, but they were all leaving. I stayed behind for a while, but then got scared and went to catch up. When I finally did, I just heard screaming." she couldn't hold back the torrent of tears that now flowed freely from her eyes.

"So you didn't see what happened to them?" Sam asked quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder to calm her.

"No," she said miserably. "God, if I hadn't been such a wimp! Maybe I could've saved them."

"What about Todd?" Dean asked.

"When I ran up to see what was going on, he grabbed me and ran. He was saying something about a woman," Becca recalled.

"A woman?" Dean perked up.

"He was so hysterical, I don't think he knew what he was talking about." she shuddered as she recalled the horrified look on Todd's face. Until then, she had never seen his scared of anything, but that night pure terror was etched in his face. Becca shuddered at the memory.

"Thank you for talking with us," Sam said, getting to his feet, "It's really helped a lot."

"And if you remember anything, anything at all, give us a call," Sam took a scrap piece of paper from his pocket and wrote down his cell phone number.

Becca took the paper and looked at the men. "Anything weird?" she asked, "The whole night was weird."

"Yeah, well you know, just in case you want to talk," Dean said, attempting to sound sensitive.

Becca nodded and showed the two of them to the door.

"Thanks again for your time," Sam said

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"So what do you think?" Sam asked his brother, once they were safely in the car and out of hearing range.

"I think we need to talk to Todd," Dean answered, turning the key in the ignition.

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It was a regular night at Tipsy's Bar. Several local townsfolk here scattered here and there sipping from their mason jars while watching the football game that was playing on the big screen near the back of the room. Game day had brought out a fair crowd, husbands seeking an escape from their wives, single men looking for a good time, and the small group of high school seniors who were drinking cokes with their eyes glued to the TV.

Moe, the bar owner, didn't mind the kids coming in on game nights. His bartenders knew not to serve any of them alcohol and they usually kept it down, until their team started to lose, that is. The teens were cheering for a running back to make a touch down when Moe noticed Todd Forester walk into the bar. He looked down right miserable, but Moe suspected that he would be too if he had gone through what Todd had just a few nights ago. Moe nodded a hello and watched as the troubled teen took a seat at the bar instead of sitting with his pals.

Todd put his head in his hands as he tried to clear his mind. He had come to Tipsy's in order to escape the pitying looks from his father and his mother's hysterics. She had loved Adrianne like a daughter and was almost as upset as Adrianne's own mother at the young girl's death. She had spent this entire week sobbing and recalling every single date Todd and Adrianne had been on, every kind word Adrianne had every said, and recalling stories behind every picture of Todd and Adrianne in the house.

Todd couldn't think about those times, because no matter how hard he tried to only think about the good, he remembered watching her die. He was disgusted with himself. Why didn't he do more to help? What could he have done? He shook his head, trying to banish the image of his girlfriend's distorted face screaming for him to save her.

When he looked up, a man was sitting in the bar stool next to him. "Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger asked.

"Sorry," he replied a little thrown off by the man's sudden appearance, "I don't swing that way."

"Swing?" the man said indignantly, "Who said anything about swinging? I just know what a man who needs a drink looks like."

"Why not?" was Todd's reply. He didn't bother to inform the stranger that he was underage. He figured with the week he had had, he deserved a stiff drink. Apparently, so did Moe. He poured Todd a beer and accepted the man's money without any questions or comments. Todd drink the beer eagerly, hoping that it would wash away Adrianne's face from his memory.

"Wow," the man commented after seeing Todd down the last of the beer, "Must have been a hell of a day,"

"You have no idea," Todd answered bitterly.

"I'm Dean by the way," he added, ordering Todd another beer.

"Congratulations," Todd said sarcastically, accepting the second drink and downing half of it right away.

"So, who's the girl?" Dean asked, watching Todd carefully.

"Excuse me?" Todd asked, bewildered. Did this man somehow know about Adrianne?

"The way I see it, when a man drinks like that, a girl is involved." Dean stated wisely, sipped his own beer. "So, who is she?"

"She's dead, what does it matter?" Todd replied, his voice filled with anguish

"Tough break," Dean said, in what Todd guessed, he considered a sympathetic tone. "You need to talk about it?"

"What are you? My shrink?" Todd questioned as he downed the last of his beer and let out a long belch.

"Just think of me as Dr. Dean." he answered, "Like Dr. Phil, only with hair." he laughed at his own joke and took another swig of his beer, but Todd wasn't laughing.

"Do you really want to know?" Todd asked seriously.

"That's why I asked isn't it?" Dean reasoned.

"Fine, so long as you don't call the funny farm on me, I'll tell you."

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Outside of the bar, Sam sat in the passenger's seat of his brother's Impala looking at his laptop screen. He was looking at obituaries, something he did alarmingly often ever since his girlfriend, Jessica had died. He looked out the window and saw Dean approaching. Not wanting his brother to think he was too obsessed, he closed the laptop as Dean opened the driver's side door and got into the car.

"Well?" Sam asked as Dean started up the ignition, "What did you find out?"

"That high school kids are lightweights." Dean answered, putting in his favorite AC/DC cassette and turning up the volume as they pulled away from the bar.