"It's all her fault…I know it is," the girl cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She buried her face in an older woman's shirt, keeping a firm grip on one of the sleeves. "And they're going to come after me next," she managed to say, her voice muffled in the fabric. "I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

"Who's going to get you?" Sam asked patiently, voice gentle and what he hoped to be trusting. He was both open and cautious of whatever it was she was going to say.

"She makes up friends because nobody wants to be hers. She doesn't think anybody noticed when we saw her talking to herself on the bus."

"Who makes up friends?" Sam's eyes softened at the girl's obvious distress, watching the older woman place a comforting arm around her shoulder.

"Kelly…" The girl looked at Sam incredulously, as if he should have known the answer already. "Kelly Mar-"

"Samantha," the older woman began admonishingly.

"I'm telling you, mom…she doesn't like us," Samantha protested. "It's true. And just because of her stupid-"

"That's enough," the woman said sternly, tightening her grip around her daughter as she raised her head to look at Sam apologetically. "I'm sorry, officer…three of her best friends just died and this really-"

"No, it's all right." Sam shook his head, holding his hand up in acquiescence. He nodded at the two, watching the girl's eyes darting in between the house across the street behind Sam and the one next to it. "Thank you for time, Mrs. Jackson. I sincerely offer my condolences."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Sam exhaled loudly as the door closed, turning around on the porch and heading down the short flight of stairs. He wasn't entirely convinced by the girl's story and suspected it had more to do with middle school social hierarchy than with something supernatural. Still, he couldn't completely dismiss Samantha's account and would have to look into Kelly Mar – he'd figure out her last name later – and see where that would take him.

Hearing footsteps, Sam lifted his head, taking one hand out of his pocket to brush the fringe away from his eyes so he could see his brother more clearly. "Hey," he said wearily.

"The Abbots and the Darlingtons wouldn't even talk to me," Dean responded, scoffing before looking at his brother questionably. "And I'm taking it that you didn't get what we need…or at least something that could help us," he assumed.

"Well, not much." Sam placed his hand on the back of his neck, fixing the collar of his shirt. "Apparently Samantha Jackson was best friends with all three of the girls: Paige, Courtney…and Jessica."

Dean raised his eyebrows, the beginnings of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.

"Don't say anything," Sam said crossly.

Dean broke out into a grin at the affronted look on his brother's face. "I didn't say anything." He held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Yeah, well…" Sam blinked, moving a hand to block the sun out of his eyes. "It's not much of a surprise considering Jessica was friends with Paige and Courtney."

"They were all best friends," Dean confirmed. "And something tells me Samantha is probably next."

"That's what she said, too."

"Really?"

"Apparently, Kelly is out to get her."

"Kelly?" Dean asked.

"I'm assuming she's in their class or at least around the same age," Sam added. "So…are we going to watch Samantha's house, then?"

"Yeah, that would be the first thing I'd suggest, but in a place like this," he paused, extending an arm to gesture at the neighbourhood, "I think something low-key is probably our best bet. Because the deaths happen in their rooms, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed.

Dean pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "I highly doubt anyone's going to believe us and for once, I can't think of something that would even get us remotely close to a little girl's room without sounding the least bit perverted."

Sam snorted but didn't provide any further comment to what his brother said. "Then we'll have to get this thing before it gets her," he reasoned.

"So…any ideas on what this thing could be?"

"I thought we agreed it was some kind of spirit or demon?" Sam wiggled his nose at Dean.

"Well, personally, I haven't really seen anything like it. And dad didn't mention any of the other deaths to me. But I don't doubt that it's one of our usual playmates."

"Something that attacks kids for no reason…" Sam thought aloud.

"Even demons have reasons," Dean subtly reminded his brother.

Sam sighed heavily, legs starting to cramp from standing in the same place for so long. "Then what about their connection to Kelly? When I was talking to Samantha, I don't really think she felt too bad about Kelly not having any friends."

"What makes you say that?"

"She sounded convinced that nobody wanted to be Kelly's friend," Sam replied.

"Sounds like a bully."

"What?"

"That's right," Dean said, smirking as if he was in the middle of remembering something. "You didn't have that problem."

"What are you talking about?"

"You didn't forget all the times I saved your scrawny ass when you were younger?"

"No you didn't," Sam denied. "Because besides what we hunt," he admitted almost reluctantly, "there was no one to save me from."

"You never stopped to think why?"

Sam looked confused at Dean's teasing smile before finally understanding; sucking his teeth and walking away from his brother.

"So it's a demon now?" Dean asked as he walked faster to catch up with his brother's long strides.

Sam paused, stopping in the section of sidewalk that placed them in front of the Impala. "Then that means either Kelly is summoning it or someone is doing it for her."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, looking offhandedly at his car. "Not like it hasn't been done before."

"But still…"

"What we need to do," Dean said, turning his head toward the direction of the house across the street from them, "is get into that house." There was yellow tape around the perimeter and a black Denali in the driveway.

"We could come back later tonight?" Sam suggested.

"No." Dean shook his head. "We need to get into there now before those guys move everything else or the family decides they want their house back."

Sam looked at his brother with wide eyes and despite his mental protests; his legs followed the other man as Dean began to cross the street. "Dean," he whispered harshly, now walking beside him. "Are you crazy or just out of your mind?"

Dean turned to his brother as he stepped on the grass, giving Sam one of his usual self-satisfied grins. "I promise we'll be careful."

"It still gets to me," Nick admitted to Greg, the other man licking his lips nervously. He grimaced as he took in the shirt Greg was wearing, some shade of blue and appearing to hang off his frame. His vest seemed to be the only thing keeping it from falling off his shoulders. He knew that Greg was fully capable of becoming a good CSI, but wasn't sure if Greg knew the price of being exposed to the impiety of humanity on a daily basis.

And maybe the thought of a cynical Greg was something that scared him more than Nick wanted to admit.

"Even now?" Greg asked.

"I won't say I'm used to it, but…" Nick hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to respond to the expression on Greg's face. "It's not something I wouldn't expect." And truthfully, there was nothing more he could say about it.

"Oh."

Nick turned his head at the disappointment clear in Greg's voice, looking to where the body of the victim once lay. He knew they wouldn't be able to finishing processing the house until at least a couple more hours and he was grateful for the small fact that David had already taken the body out of the house.

"Did you know Brandon found her?" Greg asked, examining a photograph on a dresser. "The little brother," he added.

Nick sighed in response, not really having anything to say. Mood changing, his eyes narrowed as he moved toward the window, catching sight of two men approaching the house from the side. They didn't look overtly suspicious, but Nick knew better than to make assumptions.

Especially when there wasn't an officer on duty.

He turned his attention to Greg, who was still engaged with the dresser, picking up another picture. The other man turned quickly at the sound of Nick cocking his gun. "I'm going to go check on something outside," he said carefully, paying attention to the sudden stiffness in Greg's posture. "You going to be okay until I get back?"

Greg nodded absently, his gaze focused on the weapon Nick was returning to his holster. He knew danger was always a possibility whenever they were at a crime scene. Whether people came back to the scene or left something behind, it was a risk he knew was part of the job.

It just was something he hadn't really run into until now.

Nick scrunched his forehead in concern, having second thoughts about leaving Greg alone. He didn't really have much of an option right now, but at the same time, he didn't want to make Greg feel uncomfortable. The younger man still didn't have a firearm.

Seeing that Nick was beginning to second guess himself, Greg was quick to reassure him. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice holding more resolution than he actually felt. "Do you want me to call somebody?"

Nick shook his head. "I think it's probably just a couple of neighbours," he said with a forced smile, trying not to pass off his unease to Greg.

Greg returned the gesture with an awkward smile of his own. "Yeah," he agreed, turning away as Nick made his way out of the room, footsteps faint against the carpeting and becoming louder as his shoes made contact with the wooden floor.

He refocused his attention, trying not to think of the implications of Nick's actions as he took another quick survey of the room; not wanting to overlook anything. He squinted; catching a glimpse of something small and burnished that was partially hidden within the carpet fibres. He lowered himself to the carpet; the faded denim of his pants brushing softly against the lush material.

Greg reached out his hand, picking up the item between his fingers and looking at it carefully. It was similar to the two charms they found earlier; this time a starfish instead of the previous seashells. He bit his bottom lip as he brought it closer to his face, the charm almost slipping from his grasp.

The starfish was vaguely familiar and made him feel somewhat nostalgic; reminding him of something given to him by his older cousin at one point in time. That feeling that he was missing something was back again, and even if it wasn't prompted when they found the other charms, this one somehow enforced his sense of helplessness. It was like a blank slate, some kind of gap in his memory and he still couldn't understand why this case in particular was forcing him to retrace a time in his life twenty years ago.

Greg smiled sardonically. While it was true James had given Greg a bracelet with similar charms, there were probably many generic bracelets people could add things to. The idea that someone had the same bracelet was silly if anything.

Even if James did live in Henderson when they were younger, Greg received the bracelet while he was California. It came in the mail shortly after James' best friend died; becoming some kind of symbol for the unexplainable rift between him and his cousin that Greg still couldn't explain to this day.

The bracelet was a serendipitous find for James and would temporarily serve his fascination with beaches and more specifically the ones in California; something that connected a twelve year-old Greg with his eighteen year-old cousin. But the year Greg received the bracelet was the year Kyle died and the same year James moved to Delaware for college. Greg tried to send to send the bracelet back before James moved; a naïve attempt to close the distance between them.

But he never bothered to ask what James did with it.

Greg sighed heavily as the put the starfish in a small bag, the first piece of evidence in his nonexistent pile. He stood up quickly, turning around and blinking when he came face to face with his reflection; the confrontation startling and unexpected.

He stared into the reflective glass; the mirror somehow obscure in the middle of the room. And if the entire room wasn't so disturbingly white, maybe he wouldn't have felt so uneasy with Nick leaving him alone in it. Everything seemed to bleed into one another and he almost felt trapped, suffocated in an ambience of white. With the exception of the open door, the mirror seemed the only – if misleading – way out.

He didn't want to imagine how he would feel if the door was closed.

Then the room seemed to drop in temperature and Greg felt his body become rigid on its own accord. With his attention fixed on the mirror, he forgot to inhale when he saw something pass behind his reflection; a shadow, black and stark against the colour of the room. He turned around quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, but saw nothing but white.

"It's nothing…" he said to himself as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and puffing his cheeks. He pushed away the fear that was burgeoning from the pit of his stomach; inwardly chiding himself for being so jumpy. "It was just my imagination…nothing else but my imagination," he tried to assure himself, once more.

Greg opened his eyes, staring into his reflection again in an attempt to prove that he was overreacting. He walked closer to the mirror, dark spots appearing in his vision. He scrunched his nose, eyes narrowing and previous scare forgotten as he noticed a substance on the top of the white frame of the mirror; almost imperceptible within the embossing. He slid his finger in between it, taking a sample and holding it to the light.

He rubbed it gently in between his fingertips, the substance powdery and leaving a yellow residue on his gloves.

"Hey," someone called out, and Sam groaned when he saw a man coming towards them. "What are you doing here?"

"We didn't even make it to the driveway." Sam looked at his brother reprovingly, speaking through clenched teeth.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean replied irritably. "Of all the times for a cop to do their job…" he muttered to himself.

The man approached them warily, and neither Dean nor Sam was unaware of the gun resting on his hip. He wore a black vest, one side displaying the letters CSI and the other Stokes, which they presumed was his name.

The man looked at the brothers sceptically and inwardly Sam didn't really blame him, but that didn't stop him from trying to dispel the look from the other man's face. "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean." He pointed at his brother, and then gestured to a house near a street intersection. "We're neighbours and we just got back from vacation." He paused to make sure the surprise in his voice more believable. "What happened?"

Dean shook his head in agreement, softening his features and giving his look of – what Sam deemed as – fake concern.

But Stokes didn't seem to be persuaded by their attempts. Though, Sam was somewhat satisfied to note that his hand didn't linger as close to his gun as it did a few seconds ago. "I'm sorry, but I'm not able to disclose that information," Stokes replied guardedly, his mouth still set in a thin line and the tone of his voice betraying his words.

"Oh," Sam said disappointedly, moving his gaze from Stokes to his brother, who was actually the one responsible for their current situation.

Seeing Sam rolling his eyes and turning away, Dean bit his tongue, trying to not to comeback with a crass remark for the officer. "You know it's going to be on the news, so I don't-"

"Then you can wait to watch it on the news," Stokes said in an overtly cheery tone as he crossed his arms, his posture and assumed authority taunting Dean, who was only somewhat quelled when Sam took hold of his arm.

Ignoring his brother's firming grasp, Dean was going to say something else when the door to the house opened again and another man emerged. He appeared to be younger but wore the same vest as Stokes; the names Sanders written on the left side.

"Nick," Sanders called out, seemingly unaware of Sam and Dean's presence as he made a beeline for Stokes.

Nick turned around at the sound of Greg's voice, keeping the other two men in his peripheral vision. He knew he wasn't gone long, probably less than ten minutes. He was going to ask if Greg finished processing the room when he noticed something in the other man's hand.

Holding up a small bag, a yellowish substance barely visible inside of it, Greg blinked when he stopped beside his older colleague. "I think this is…" he began, trailing off when he looked in the direction of the two unknown men, his focus on something further in the distance.

There was something making its way to them. Blurry and unfocussed like an apparition, it flickered as it continued to move forward and Greg could almost hear the static of the disappearing and reappearing picture. He cautiously took a step back as it faded away again, only to materialise even closer and now no more than a few feet away from him.

His mouth opened but Greg lost the ability to speak as he watched it pass through a large tree, image somewhat recognisable and discernable as the form of a person continued to make its way to him; body crooked, walk distorted and aberrant. It looked like a young girl, head tilted and perpendicular to her neck. Her cheeks were sunken in and her skin was sallow; made even more so by the long, dark hair framing her face and cascading down a pure white dress, too bright for her complexion.

She paused. One arm was stretched out awkwardly as she slowly straightened her head; the movement making her neck twitch until she stopped; looking at Greg with large, black eyes.

They were no more than an arm's length apart and though she didn't even come up to his shoulder, Greg still found his heart beating in trepidation. He made another attempt to speak, but the intention to say Nick only came out as a strained gasp; his mouth drying as he found he couldn't take his eyes away from the girl in front of him.

Her image began to waver again, blinking in and out of time as she angled her head slightly; the action causing her to jerk as confusion began to mar her features. She looked at Greg quizzically, her lips tightly pressed together as if she was assessing him.

A flash and she was gone, reappearing just as quickly; extending her arm and reaching for Greg's chest. Rectifying the position of her head, her fingers began to curl, almost eager to grab something. Then they were spreading out, stopping short of making contact with Greg's vest, her palm hovering over where his heart would be.

She narrowed her eyes and then she was gone, a man Greg didn't know taking her place as he walked through her and another man looking at Greg anxiously. Almost jumping when he felt a something take hold of his arm, Greg turned and sighed in audible relief when he realised the fingers curled around his skin were noticeably larger. He raised his head to see Nick looking at him worriedly, familiar lines appearing around the corner of his eyes.

"Greg," he heard Nick say, even distinguishing a trace of fear that crept into the older man's voice. He didn't know what happened, who that little girl was, and why, apparently, he was the only one who could see her. He was pretty sure the three men around him would have said something by now if they saw her, too.

He licked his lips, trying to brush off the hand on his arm that didn't seem to want to let go. "I'm fine," he told Nick, wondering why even bothered when he knew the older man wasn't going to believe him. "Really," he tried again, not noticing that Nick was supporting his weight until he tried to balance himself.

"You sure you're all right?" one of strangers asked softly, the other one simply frowning and looking at Greg strangely.

Greg nodded his head as Nick began to loosen his grasp, letting the younger man stand on his own. Satisfied when he didn't feel on the verge of falling, Greg bent down to pick up the evidence bag with the small sample of sulphur he must have dropped somewhere between seeing the little girl and realising he was the only one who did.

He felt Nick's eyes piercing the back of his head as he stood, but he turned to the direction of the two other men, where the girl first came from. He didn't look to the other man when Nick moved to stand beside him, welcoming the more distant form of solace.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Nick asked, seeing the other two men drift away from his peripheral vision. But he wasn't too concerned with them, as long as they weren't heading towards the house.

Greg continued to stare absently at seemingly nothing, and Nick sighed heavily at the vague reply he received.

"I should have remembered something."

"Nobody came to our house, yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not expecting them," the woman said curtly into the telephone receiver. "You know I think it's only a matter of time before they start accusing someone. I'm actually surprised they haven't come today…considering the latest one happened next door." She snorted. "I don't believe what's on the news either. I think they're trying to cover something up."

"I know," she said, nodding her head as she leaned against the marble counter in the kitchen. "It's only today and tomorrow, but her school is closed for the rest of the week…so I took her to the hospital." She glanced at the little girl sitting on the couch and watching the flat screen television propped on the blue wall. The woman frowned, wondering why her daughter seemed squished on one side of the couch when she normally took up more space. But she thought nothing more of it when the person on the other end began speaking.

"No…no, they couldn't find anything wrong with her. But there was nothing wrong with those other little girls either…at least that's what they told us. It doesn't seem like the flu. But then again, I only have a DBA…and you know that has nothing to do with medicine."

"I already made her another appointment with a different doctor for next week. Daniel's going to take her because I'm going to be out of town that Thursday. I'm going to be overseas to make final negotiations with that takeover in Japan."

Her lips flattened into a straight line. "Daniel and I have tried talking to her, but she doesn't want to say anything about it. Yes, I'm worried about how this is going to affect her, too. I just…there's so much going on right now. She wasn't too happy when we first moved here, but she's told me she's getting along fine in school."

The woman snorted, releasing a bitter laugh. "And I told Daniel about that. I don't know what he wants me to do. Then he-" She was interrupted by the person on the other line. "That too, but it was really more for him than it was for us. I have no qualms with relocation, but I still have to take Kelly into consideration."

"A lot of parents are talking about it, but nobody knows what to do." She shook her head, reaching her hand to turn on the oven light. She kneeled down, the high heels of her shoes clacking against the tiled floor as she peered into the oven; the skin of the chicken beginning to brown and but the meat not yet finished. "No, not that I know of. I don't know their parents that well, but they were all in Kelly's class."

Fourteen year-old Jessica Fischer was found dead this morning. Hers is only one in the string of recent deaths still puzzling experts and authorities. Though no official reports have been released, we are being told that each of the girls died due to heart complications. And while not unheard of, our own medical correspondents do admit that it is rare to have-

"Kelly," the woman began, the palm of her hand covering the bottom of the phone as she spoke to the little girl. Her voice travelled from the kitchen to the living room, overwhelming the voice coming from the newscaster on the television. "Why don't you watch something else, all right?" She didn't want to hear anymore of the neighbours' deaths and much less wanted her daughter to be exposed to any more of it.

"No, that was Kelly. She was watching the news and – I know. It's all they're talking about and those families…I wouldn't want to hear about it, either."

Finger posed over one of the channel buttons, Kelly stiffened when she felt something brush against the nape of her neck, finding its way beneath her hair. A faint tremor travelled through her frame, caused by the brief contact of skin upon skin; her body heat beginning to dissipate. The four charms on her bracelet were cold against her wrist, delicately piercing the skin as her fingers moved to turn down the volume instead.

Looking to see her mother still preoccupied with her phone conversation, Kelly slowly leaned over to put the remote on the small, glass table in front of her. She sat back against the couch, her other hand moving to rest on top of the small crevice in between the lavish cushions.

Her fingers not quite touching her palm as she squeezed her hand tightly.

This probably created more questions than it answered, didn't it?

I hope the perspective changes in the third section weren't too confusing. I've done this type of thing before, but that doesn't mean I do it well. Also, I tried not make everyone buddy-buddy, which is mostly because I honestly see an immediate tension between Nick and Dean for some reason. It escalates somewhat and is part of Nick revealing why he wasn't too worried with Dean and Sam (chapter five).

And thank you for reading and I do have a name, silverrayne666, and GregsLabrat for reviewing.