A/N: I don't own the Winchesters or the show Supernatural. I don't even own any AC/DC cd's which sucks because said show has got me hooked on their music. And now you can hear it in a weird commercial for "the Gap", of all things. Go figure. Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and this chapter is a little long, just couldn't stop. I considered breaking it up and then thought what the heck. Enjoy :)

Chapter 3

After a few moments, Dean ventured, "You saw it in a dream?"

Evie nodded, but before she could explain further the phone in the house rang. "I'm sorry, I have to get that. Her room is upstairs, second door on the left. All the others wanted a look; go ahead, I haven't changed anything. Just don't take anything."

She rose from the couch and walked off without looking behind her. Dean raised an eyebrow, and then the brothers rose as well and headed for the stairs.

Dean could feel Sam about to say something behind him as he began to ascend and shook his head, shooting a "not here" in the general vicinity of his brother. He was deliberately not thinking about it, fully into exploring his surroundings. From inside his jacket he took out his homemade EMF meter once he reached the landing, and began to pan it around.

No positive readings showed, however, even when he opened the second door on the left and carefully walked into the room. It was an ordinary bedroom, neat and clean, with nice looking furniture and nothing screaming 'something strange is here'. He opened the closet door, carefully, after seeing that Sam was there beside him and ready. Still no readings and the closet only contained neatly hung clothes and a filled shoe rack. Priscilla had obviously been an organized person.

He sighed, closing the door again. The only remotely interesting thing about the room was the bookcase in the corner filled with science fiction novels. Sam went over to have a look, and Dean wandered over to scan them, but didn't even get a peep out of the EMF meter. Shrugging, the brothers exited the bedroom, and just to be thorough, Dean opened the first door on the left. This bedroom was a little messier, with clothes strewn around and more books on dreams scattered all over. The modified walkman didn't tell any tales, however, so Dean turned to leave. He nudged Sam, who seemed to be looking at the furniture, and his brother nodded and followed him out. No readings screamed from the rest of the floor or the bathroom, so they went back downstairs. Evie was waiting for them.

"You looked in my room too, didn't you?" she asked without heat.

"Well, we-" Dean began, but she waved away his explanation.

"Don't bother; I know it's a mess. That was the realtor; she'll be here soon. I'm having the place sold. I decided I'm moving to a condo. Maybe get one that's furnished, I can't even sleep in my bed anymore." she said.

"Actually, I noticed that the furniture in your room was different from that in your sister's room." Sam said, hoping she would elaborate. Something was bothering him about it, but he couldn't quite pin down what it was.

"Yeah, Pris surprised me two weeks ago for my birthday, got me a whole new bedroom set. Now I can't even look at it; I've been sleeping on the couch since she…" Evie swallowed, and shook her head. "I'm sorry; I'm just not up for more questions right now. I need to clean up a little. Leave me one of your cards and maybe I'll call you. You're nice, you actually listened. I'm kinda interested to see what you make of things."

Dean had a card out and was placing it in her hand almost before she stopped speaking.

"Do you need any help?" Sam asked, waving around the book-cluttered living room.

Evie actually smiled at that. "No thanks, I can manage. Wait, do you have another card and a pen?"

Sam produced them and she took the pen and scribbled a number on the back of the card.

"It's my cell number, call me if you find out what happened," she said, handing the items back to him.

"We will," Sam promised her with an earnest smile. Then Evie shooed them out the door and closed it, and the brothers slowly walked to the Impala.

"Well, she was odd," Dean commented as he got in the driver's side.

"She was grieving; maybe it's not her normal behavior. Dean, the dream she had-"

"We don't even know what it was she saw. She never explained it. Maybe we should take a look at where some of these bodies were found; the houses the victims lived in are a bust." Dean said quickly, wanting to get Sam off the subject of dreams.

He'd be asking Dean about his next and for darn sure he didn't want to have to go over it. He knew Sam was going to obsess over this though. If this woman had really dreamed about her sister dying and it had come true...but Pricilla had frozen to death, not died in a fire. And she had been blocks away at the time. Something was definitely strange about this, but Dean wasn't going to make any assumptions until all the facts were in. The first victim had died in a fire, but what information Sam had dug up showed he also hadn't been at home at the time, he'd been found somewhere in the town, just like the others. The house hadn't burned, anyway, and they had found nothing odd. Like he'd told Sam, today's investigation was to get an idea of what was out there. If he didn't dream of falling bookcases tonight then they would visit the library and see what more they could find.

Sam grumbled but subsided, opening a local map with the locations of the strange deaths marked in X's. The tabloid had listed where the deaths had occurred, but then warned the public not to interfere in any police investigations of the areas. They definitely wanted the tourism, Sam thought.

He gave Dean directions to where George Tucker had been found and shortly they were pulling up beside a plain looking alleyway. Dean brought the EMF meter and a salt-filled shotgun, concealed beneath his jacket, and Sam dragged out the thermal scanner and shoved a gun loaded with silver bullets in his waistband.

They spent a few minutes checking things out in the empty area, but there were no cold spots and nothing beeped. There weren't even any charred markings on the ground, only a now grimy chalk outline.

Giving each other a shrug, they got back in the Impala and drove to the next X, where the drowning victim had been found. Again it was an alleyway, and again they got the same results, "A big fat zero," as Dean put it.

Once in the car again, Dean sat for a moment before starting it. Sam looked over at him, already with the map out and ready to give directions to the next location.

"I'm getting hungry, what say we check out that coffeehouse? I keep seeing it as we drive." Dean said, and now that he had mentioned it, Sam realized it was hours since breakfast.

"Okay," he replied, and was putting the map away when he stopped.

Dean had already put the car in gear when he glanced at his brother, noting the preoccupied look. "What?" he asked.

"Dean, did you notice something? All of these deaths occurred within blocks of this same coffee place. You think maybe it could be involved?" Sam asked, eyes shining with excitement at a possible lead.

Slowly Dean grinned. "Well, guess we'll just have to check it out then to see."

----------

The Bean Place coffeehouse was larger than they expected, with a wide L shaped serving counter and an airy room filled with comfortable looking chairs and tables. It was also very crowded, and Dean gestured with his chin for Sam to grab the only empty table by one of the windows while he went to place their order. Sam sighed but trudged over to it, unconsciously listening in on the conversations as he passed the other patrons.

"I can't believe it happened right behind here! There's still police tape up and everything!"

"It was a rabid dog. I heard howling the other night and made sure my Butch was inside. They ought to get animal control out to patrol the streets."

"-knew it was an ax murderer! I heard that some inmates escaped from that jail over-"

"-was the family, I bet, for the life insurance money, that brother of his will be set now-"

"-fifty percent off, I swear! And it's the genuine article too, the shop owner said so-"

Sam grinned at the last and plopped into the seat. He was joined shortly by Dean, who was holding a coffee in each hand and juggling a bag by the last two fingers of one of them.

"So, think anyone'll notice if we check them for possession?" Dean said, taking a ham and cheese croissant from the bag and then gulping a sip of coffee.

"I think they might," Sam drawled, taking out the other croissant.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, and then Sam said, "We could check out the latest place of death when we leave, apparently it's a tourist hot spot."

Dean nodded, and finished with the food he took a look around and then surreptitiously reached inside his jacket, Sam's eyes widening as he did so.

"You're going to check this place out now? With all these people here?" he asked, incredulous.

"Not like they're noticing. If you whine about it though you'll get attention we don't want. Just look like you're not doing anything-shouldn't be too hard." Dean smiled in glee, and Sam shook his head.

"Oh that's it. When we leave here I'm driving." Sam stated and Dean grinned.

"In your dreams," he replied, and then the smile dropped from his face with a lurch. Dean swallowed, and looked around again, and noticed a couple bookcases against the walls that he had somehow missed seeing through the crowd when they arrived. They were thankfully filled with volumes, but still...he shivered.

"Dean?" Sam asked, noticing that his brother had suddenly paled.

"We're leaving," Dean said abruptly, crumpling up the bag and then rising to walk to the nearest trash container to dump it. He tossed the empty coffee cup in as well, and Sam followed suit, mystified.

When Sam looked like he was about to check out the place anyway Dean grabbed an arm of the jacket, the same jacket Sam had worn in his dream, and literally tugged his brother out the door into the afternoon sunshine.

"What is your problem?" Sam hissed at him, getting worried.

"No problem, you were right, we can come back when it isn't crowded. Let's check out that alley." he said.

Sam shook his head and followed his brother to the alley behind the coffeehouse. No one was there, and again there were no readings, but there was police tape and a brighter chalk outline and dark patches on the ground that the brothers took to be dried blood. Dean looked around on the alley walls and yep, there were dark patches there as well. But no cold spots and the EMF didn't register anything.

"Well, it's not a ghost doing this, but this is definitely where the guy died. Something really tore him apart. But the MO is different than the other deaths. There's definitely something weird going on. We should come back here tonight, see if whatever is doing this shows up." Dean said. Privately he was happy that it didn't seem to be a ghost, but he was worried about the bookcases in a place that seemed to be the center of the strange deaths. He resolved to be on his guard, and that he wouldn't let Sam out of his sight.

Sam looked at his brother and said, "Okay, sounds like a plan. We might as well go check out the other places just to rule them out."

Dean nodded and they headed for the car, which was parked across the street from the coffeehouse. Sam stole looks at his brother as they walked; wondering what was up with him. Maybe he could get Dean to talk tonight while they waited for the thing causing the deaths, whatever it was. He wasn't going to let his brother go this alone.

----------

They drove around to the places where the other bodies had been found, but got the same results-no positive readings and nothing hinting at what could be causing the deaths.

Sam suggested they talk to the family of the third victim, Casper Knight, as it was just beginning to turn dusk. Dean agreed and drove the Impala to the address, and once again the brothers brought out their fake ID's. At their knock, however, there was no answer. There was still a car in the drive, and sound came from behind the door. Dean knocked again, and the sound grew louder; Sam recognized it as the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It suddenly shut off, and moments later the door opened.

"Yes?" a plump woman said, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore casual clothing and seemed a little out of breath.

"Hello ma'am, we're with the Herald and wondered if we could have a few minutes of your time?" Dean flashed the press credential and his famous grin.

"Oh, you must be here for the Knights. They aren't home, and I can't let you in." the woman said, about to close the door in their faces.

"That's okay, we'd like to talk with you too," Sam said quickly, employing his puppy dog look.

"Me? I just clean the place. I don't want no trouble," the lady in question said.

"It'll just be for a minute. We like to gather background material. We'll keep your name out of it if you like," Dean said, backing up his brother's plan.

The woman looked at them for a minute to gauge their sincerity, then shrugged and opened the door.

"Okay, but make it quick. And we have to talk outside, I know what you'll do if I let you in. Run all over the house to see what dirt you can dig up on the poor family, and them suffering this double sorrow now," the housekeeper said, stepping outside onto the walkway beside the brothers and firmly closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, double sorrow?" Sam asked, looking quickly at Dean.

"You haven't heard? I thought you press people were up on all the latest news. What rag did you say you were from?" she asked, a little suspicious.

"The Herald? You know, on the internet? And I'm Richie and this is Hugh, and you are?" Dean said, whipping out a notepad and pen, looking prepared to take down her name.

"Oh, that explains it then. You're just muckraking for theories on aliens or Bigfoot having done it then," the woman said, satisfied. "I'm Rosalie, but I'm not telling you my last name, I don't want to be that kind of famous. You just care about the strange death, not the ordinary one."

"Ordinary death?" Sam asked, beginning to feel like a parrot.

Rosalie sighed. "Well of course. Poor Casper was drowned in mysterious circumstances, but his brother only died the next night in his own bed. Heart attack," Rosalie confided.

"Wait, Casper's brother died the night after he did?" Dean asked to verify the facts.

"Why yes, when they found poor Casper, Edmund looked like he would keel over right then, at least that's what Mrs. Knight told Marilee, that's my supervisor. They're good friends. And then the next morning when he didn't come down for breakfast they found him in his bed. Damn shame," she said, shaking her head. Her watch beeped, and Rosalie looked at it in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I have to be going, but don't you mention me or what I told you, all right? Won't fit with your alien theory anyway, it's not like they were beamed up anywhere." Rosalie chuckled and then turned to go back inside, shutting the door on Sam's "Thanks for your time!"

The brothers looked at each other, and then headed back to the Impala.

"Dean, doesn't this case seem a bit odd to you?" Sam said as he settled in the passenger's side.

"Odd in what way?" Dean asked as he pulled the car back onto the road.

"Well, the victims all die in different ways, and we can't find a hint of any ghost activity, or any other clues, either in the places they died or in their homes, and one victim's sister saw her death in a dream and this one's brother died the night after he did? Something is definitely strange," Sam concluded.

"Yeah well, it's starting to get late. What say we head back to the motel and pick up dinner on the way, and then we can do some research online until it's late enough to check out the coffeehouse? We don't have all the facts yet and I'm not going to try and figure this out until we do," Dean said, privately agreeing with Sam. Something really was odd about this case. He couldn't help the worry that had gone through him after hearing that the victim had a brother and that they were now both dead, but he wasn't about to say anything yet.

"Fine," Sam said, settling back. He was worried too, but decided to wait until they had more information as well. "But this time you get to do the research online," he grinned, to lighten the mood. Dean only grunted.

----------

After picking up burgers and sodas at a fast food place they ended up back in the motel room, Sam idly flipping through the television's channels as he munched while Dean surfed on the laptop. A glimpse of a shaggy form made him pause at a channel. Then a wide grin split his face.

"Hey Dean? Guess what's on," Sam said.

Dean looked up from his research-which he admitted to himself wasn't going so well. Theories on the deaths ranged from UFO's to Blackbeard's ghost, apparently torturing the poor souls to find the location of treasure, never mind that the pirate had never been anywhere near this town nor indeed in this area of the country. "What?"

"It's a special on the Sasquatch," Sam continued to grin.

"Oh no, you're not serious?" Dean complained, and then as they continued to watch and the invisible announcer's voice tried to inject menace in his words about the sightings, he sighed. "Turn that garbage off; you know it's not real. They couldn't get their facts straight to save themselves," he continued, in a contemptuous voice.

"Well, what about the timing of this show? Maybe it was a Sasquatch that killed the latest victim. We don't have any other ideas right now," Sam said, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right. First, no self-respecting Sasquatch would be in the middle of a populated town, second, they don't drown their victims or toss them mysteriously from tall buildings or freeze them with icy breath. Whatever is causing the deaths, it's not a Sasquatch," Dean said with finality, turning back to the laptop.

"Whatever you say," Sam grinned, and continued to watch the badly made documentary. Dean glanced up from time to time, shaking his head and then going back to the research.

He found a mention of Edmund Knight's death, but it was not labeled as odd. He'd been examined and was judged to have died of a heart attack, just as the housekeeper had said. One tabloid, apparently a competitor to the Herald, thought he had died of a broken heart; that the family was close and the brothers had been home on a break from graduate school. Dean shook his head, hoping that their stakeout would give them better results. He resolved not to think about things until he had more facts.

"About ready to go yet? That is, if you're done learning all the wrong information from television?" Dean said snidely, waving at the credits rolling on the screen.

"I suppose so," Sam grinned, stretching. It was dark out now, and as they headed for the car Sam couldn't help but needle his brother a little.

"We should check that alley for tracks, you know, big tracks in the blood that normal investigators would dismiss as being weird," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're a comedian now, is that it? I already said it wasn't a Sasquatch," he replied, now fighting his own grin.

"Well, you never know. Maybe it's a Sasquatch with a flame thrower and a fire hose, that likes to drop people from buildings while freezing them with its icy breath," Sam continued, barely able to contain his chuckles. "It would explain the deaths pretty well."

"Why do I even bother," Dean mock sighed, but he was fighting his own chuckles.

By the time they pulled up outside the Bean Place coffeehouse, however, they were both in serious hunting mode. In unison they swung around to the trunk, arming themselves and taking turns as lookout for any curious passersby. The area was deserted however, it was full dark and apparently the local populace had taken the warnings to stay indoors to heart.

Dean carefully picked the lock and undid the simple alarm system; apparently since the proprietors removed all the cash when they left for the day they didn't see the need in the small town for strong security measures.

The brothers entered carefully, but the coffeehouse was quiet and dark, with a few pools from the night lights left on to gently illuminate the area. The next two hours passed uneventfully. Again there were no strange readings. Dean made sure he kept Sam in his sight and away from the bookcases, but nothing was happening. As far as supernatural events went, the place was dead. Shrugging, Sam looked at him.

"We could check the alley," Dean said grudgingly. He was tired, and knew Sam was as well-they had started the day early.

They left, Dean resetting the alarm and locking the door, leaving the place as they had found it. He hadn't even stolen a cookie. Then they walked to the alley, again checking it out. It was as quiet as it had been earlier. Dean looked at the ground, noticing a lack of huge footprints, and caught Sam staring at him, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Shut up," he said, and Sam smiled. They waited in companionable silence for another hour, alert to any strange sounds, but nothing happened. Sighing, the brothers mutually decided to give up for the night. Dean even let Sam drive back to the motel, and too tired to go over any plans for the next day or bounce any more theories, outlandish or otherwise, they got ready for bed.

Dean listened as Sam's breathing soon evened out in sleep, and finally allowed himself to drift off.

He was running, feet flying over the ground, to where he heard the screams coming from.

'No, no, no' he thought as he ran, 'I shouldn't have left him. We shouldn't have split up. This is my fault' he berated himself. They had found out what was causing the deaths in the town, it was a very pissed off ghost of a pirate. Dean hadn't believed it at first, but when it had suddenly materialized in front of them, EMF meter screaming a warning, he had put aside his disbelief and shot at it with rock salt. The ghost disappeared, and Sam suggested that maybe there really was a pirate haunting the town, and they had better find his bones. So they had split up to cover better territory, Dean knowing it was a bad idea but Sam had insisted he would be fine and he promised to keep in touch. He'd just called in to say he might have found the bones when suddenly he yelled in surprise.

"Sam! Where are you?" Dean had shouted urgently into the phone and his brother had managed to gasp out a location when he suddenly screamed in pain. "I'm coming, hang on!" Dean said and started to run.

As he skidded around a corner and stared into a dark alley his heart seemed to jump into his mouth. "Sammy!" he screamed.

Sam's body was being suspended in the air, but not by a ghost. Two large hairy arms held his brother aloft with ease, and as Dean watched with horror, one of the large hands drew back and then slashed forward, and Sam screamed again, blood pouring from a fresh wound in his stomach.

"No!" Dean shouted, aiming and pulling the trigger of the shotgun. The salt-filled blast didn't even stagger the hairy beast; it reached forward again, this time slashing across Sam's throat. The scream became a gurgle, and his brother's terrified eyes met his before his body went limp.

"Sam!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, firing until no shells were left. Evil looking eyes seemed to smirk at Dean, and then the creature dropped Sam as though he were a bag of potatoes and walked off, disappearing into the night.

"Sammy, oh god, Sammy," Dean cried rushing to his brother's fallen body. He cradled Sam in his arms, not even realizing that he was sobbing.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you, oh Sam, please be okay," Dean muttered over and over, seeing blood everywhere, his brother's blood, pouring onto the ground before he could stop it.

The walls of the alley seemed to whirl around him, and he shivered from sudden cold as he stared at the blood on the ground, it almost seemed to be forming a pattern, as though Sam was trying to tell him something with his blood. He could almost make out what it was when something began to tug at Sam, trying to take his brother away from him.

"No! Sammy!" he gasped, kicking out at whatever was trying to take his brother from his grasp, when something was suddenly shaking him, hard.

"Dean! Wake up!" Dean heard Sam's voice and cracked open his eyes. He was breathing hard and his chest hurt, like his heart was breaking from what he'd dreamed.

"Sam?" he asked unsteadily. Sam's worried face was framed in the light of the lamp on the night table between their beds. There was no blood on him.

"Dean, you with me?" Sam asked, sounding a little relieved.

"Yeah," Dean swallowed a lump. "I'm awake," he said. He didn't think he ever wanted to sleep again.

TBC