Happy Halloween!

"That was a waste of time," Dean's voice echoed through the cell phone clutched to my ear. I rolled my index finger over the mouse, the internet page scrolling down. The photo of the angst, gothic teens glared back at me; two girls in the picture matched names on Dakota's list.

"Tell me about it. I got nothing on this list; just a bunch of pissy goth kids who think they're bad asses."

"Nothing checked out?"

"Nope."

"Same on my end. Carter played golf every Tuesday, drove a Hybrid, and had dinner with his family every single night - a regular family man. His record's spotless and according to his wife, the man had no enemies." He gave a frustrated sigh. I could practically see his passive face staring down the road as he drove. "Do you have an address for Logan?"

"Yes," I mumbled into the receiver. Reaching across the table, I snatched up the file. Flipping open the manila folder, my eyes scanned the page. "Ready?" Dean gave a quick 'yeah' and I read, "Eight-oh-six May Branch Boulevard. It's in May Park apartment complex."

"Alright. I'll be at the library in about five-"

"What?"

"I'm coming to pick you up."

"You want me to go with you?"

"Yes. This is part of the job too. You need the practice, Lori."

Hesitantly, I muttered, "But…I'm just…I don't do this kind of thing. I'll mess it up."

"No you won't. I'll be there." Though Dean's simple response was meant in context to the hunt, I found a hidden meaning. Well, not a hidden meaning really, more like a hidden truth. "I'll be there" was meant to be taken as, "I'll help you question Kai and stop you if you trip up"; I took it as, "I'll be there and we will survive this war". Though Dean didn't mean this outwardly, it was still a comforting thought.

Quietly, I nodded, though he couldn't see me. "Okay."

"Meet me outside."

I snapped shut my phone and slid it into my pocket. I exited the internet page, not before deleting browsing history, and shut it down. Gathering all the papers, folders, and such, I tucked it away in my thin jacket. Once I was sure I had everything, I embarked outside. The instant the double doors opened, the chilly Portland air smacked against me. It cooled my skin. The hairs rose slightly. I took a sharp breath. My eyes scanned the parking lot and surrounding streets. The Impala was nowhere in sight. A shaky breath left my lips, a cloud of white puff resulting. I was gradually beginning to freeze. Rocking back on my heels, I tried to mentally warm myself.

"Lost, babe?" A voice to my left startled me. A shaggy-haired man, nearly a foot taller than me, had walked over; his American Eagle sweatshirt hung loosely and I immediately grew jealous of his warmth.

"No," I replied. "I'm waiting for someone."

"Someone like a husband?" I held up my ring-less hand. "Hmm, not married. Haven't found Mr. Right, yet?"

I snorted. "Look, not to be frank, but I'd like to wait alone."

"Oh, am I not your type or something?"

"Sure, let's go with that," I mumbled, hoping he would just walk away. Sadly, he didn't.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, baby." He cocked a grin at his own cheesy library joke. Oh yeah, great play Dr. Smooth. "And if I may say so myself, this covers actually pretty damn nice."

"Listen. I'm freezing, tired, and just did a ton of useless research. Please just leave me alone."

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. I didn't mean any harm, just though I'd give a pretty girl like you a chance at a guy like me. But, if you want to be a bitch about it, I can go else whe-"

"Good. Go away," I snapped.

The American Eagle stranger glared now, his playful, flirty smirk gone. "What is your issue?"

As the man took a quick, angry step toward me, the most marvelous sound filled my ears: the purring engine of the Impala. Since AE boy didn't know the Impala was my ride, he continued to move forward. Dean, who had changed into his black suit and tie, pulled the black beauty to the curb beside us. Leaning over, he called out the rolled down window, "Is there a problem, Lori?"

"Dean, this is-" but the stranger instantly tensed and stepped back. I watched him glance at Dean before shaking his head.

"No. No problem." He shrunk away politely, my eyes glaring a hole into the back of his over-eager head.

I slid into the front seat next to Dean. "Perfect timing, Winchester."

"Who was that?"

"Just a bored, horny guy." Dean's smirking eyes met mine, his chuckles quietly echoing in the car. Soon the laughter blended with the backdrop of Black Sabbath playing. Dean drove us to the hotel for a quick freshening up. I changed into the nice, black skin and white blouse I'd bought. I pulled back my hair into a high bun, allowing my bangs to fall loose and framing my cheeks. Once I applied makeup and put a few pieces of jewelry on, I exited the bathroom. Walking over to my things, I snatched up the brown paper bag and withdrew a handful of IDs. "Who are we going to be?"

"Get your detective badge," Dean spoke from the kitchen where he was blessing sink water.

"Holy water?"

"Restocking the trunk. We're running low on salt too." We both went about and finished getting ready for the next several minutes. When we were both dressed, locked and loaded, the brunette man faced me. "All set?"

"Let's go." I nodded, and then halted. "Hey, uh, Dean…how do I look? It's it buyable?"

Dean shot me a grin, his bold eyes traveling the length of my body. "Very."

For the duration of the drive Dean was constantly giving me tips on our present task, coaching me through it. 'Do not, under any circumstances, mention the devas.' 'Try to be polite. Work with her. Get the information.' 'Don't forget, you aren't Lori Davis, you're Detective Eve Norman.' By the time we got there, I felt slightly at ease. Only slightly, though. Dean turned the key, shutting of the engine, and asked, "Got your badge? Got everything you need?"

My badge, now clinging to my hip, silenced his questions. Dean sent me a reassuring smile. "Let's make this brief."

"Can I help you?" A young woman answered the door to Kai and Logan's apartment. Blonde curls framed her face; her blue eyes were hard and blurry, most likely from tears. "Well?"

"Kai Creo?" Dean asked, flashing his own badge. Taking his lead, I lifted mine. "I'm Detective Ford, this is my partner Norman."

"Not again," she snarled under her breath. "I've been through this twice, alright? I didn't kill Logan, I don't know who killed Logan, and I am about to flip out on your law enforcements asses."

"Uh…" Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Ma'am, we just need a few more minutes of your time."

"Yeah? Well, sorry, 5-0, my time isn't available."

"Ms. Creo, we're sorry for your loss and I understand this is frustrating," I began slowly. Fumbling over my thoughts, I clumsily spoke an excuse. "But, whoever did this is still out there and has killed another man already. We are trying to stop this and find who killed your boyfriend. Please, it'll just take a moment." I pleaded with my eyes. Kai appeared un-phased by my little speech. Failure consumed me. I tossed Dean a tight lipped look.

Clearing his throat, Dean put on his bitch-face and grumbled, "Or you can refuse to cooperate and we'll take you in."

Hastily, and angrily, she stepped aside and allowed us in. Once we were gathered in her living room, Dean paused by the fireplace. Nudging a photo atop the mantle, he asked, "Who is this?"

"My step-brother, Walker," Kai muttered. "Can we just get this over with?"

Dean shot me an annoyed look. "Was Mr. Greene acting differently in the days prior to the attack?"

"What?"

"Was he acting…odd? Scared maybe? Did he mention anything strange, out of the ordinary?" Dean continued. Kai peered back at him like he'd slapped her.

Sensing her pending anger, I quickly muttered, "What the detective means is the other victim thought someone was after him. We're just covering all the basis."

"No," Kai spoke, crossing her thin arms firmly across her chest. For such a tiny woman, she gave off a strong, demanding air. "Logan was fine. No one was after him."

"Did he-" but Dean couldn't finish as his phone was cutting him off. "Excuse me." He pulled out his phone and stepped into the hall.

With his lack of presence, Creo glared at me expectantly. I suddenly felt compelled to speak. Blushing, I racked my brain. I thought back on all my visions of the Winchesters interrogating witnesses. More importantly, I focused on Sam, who always had a way of making the various family members or friends or co-workers feel at ease. "Now when you found Mr. Greene was anything in the apartment misplaced or disrupted?"

"Everything was fine. He's…he was a writer. He was in his study working on his latest novel. I stepped out to get my nails done. When I got home the door was still locked and he was dead."

"I can't imagine how that must have felt," I said softly.

Momentarily, Kai relaxed, her facial expression easing. Then, abruptly, my words sunk in and she quipped, "No, you can't."

"Eve." Dean appeared in the doorway. "We have to go. Ms. Creo, thank you for your time. If we need anything else we'll drop by."

"Or you could leave me alone."

We departed for the Impala swiftly. Worried by our sudden leave, I asked, "What happened?"

Dean's expression was grim as he opened his door. "That was Dakota. They found another body." The sound of the slamming door reverberated throughout the apartment complex. Two kids playing jump rope two apartment buildings over became startled, and dropped their rope. Biting my lip, I climbed in after Dean. He was stiff and his lips slightly pouted.

"Dean…" I spoke. Silence was my only replied. "We've been in town a day. Not even, actually - half a day. There was no way you could have stopped this."

My traveling companion still didn't answer, but tightened his grip on the steering wheel instead. An uneasy feeling wormed into my stomach. He had a right to be upset, someone was dead, but it wasn't his fault. Not at all. I fiddled with my fingers nervously, unsure of what to say. Shifting in my seat, I faced Dean. "Who died?"

"William Hurts, 120 Brooke Street in Naples Trace," he read of a torn white receipt. He handed the slip to me; my eyes scanned the scribbled words. Dean's writing was messy from his quick script, I imagine. Staring at the words, I realized that this name wasn't just a name, it was a person, a man who might have been a father or a husband or a brother. He was a son and now he was dead, gone forever. There would be no angel to bring him back to life, no trickster to turn back time, and no deal made to give him more time. He was simply dead.

Pursing my lips, slightly depressed, I placed the paper on the seat between us. "I honestly don't know how you do it all the time….all the death…all the pain. I mean, I get why. Saving all the people you do, helping everyone. But, it must take a lot out of you. I can see it does at least a little. I can't imagine how much of the horror you hide."

"It's hard." Dean finally sighed after some time. He glanced at me, but his eyes remained on the road. "But, honestly…I can't see myself doing anything else. Sure, it would have been nice to have a different life - a real job, a nice house. Maybe have a family. Hell, I don't know…but I figure if it wasn't me doing this, if it hadn't been our family, it would have been somebody else. I get a little comfort knowing that by living the way I do, knowing the things I know, I'm stopping some other poor bastard from having to."

"That's a hell of a way to look at things," I spoke remorsefully.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'm surprised at you, Dean."

The brunette shot me a raised brow expression. "Why?"

"You hate talking about your feelings with anyone, especially women and, well, Sam."

"It's not like you don't know what I'm thinking anyway." He gave a shrug, as best he could whilst driving.

A small laugh left my lips. "I'm not physic. Just a prophet."

"Same thing."

When we finally made it to 120 Brooke Street, there were two patrol cars, one SUV, and a coroner's van parked outside. Crime scene tape had already been plastered around the house and the neighbors were nosily poking their heads outside. Winchester parked the Impala in front of the neighboring house and exited the car. As I followed he whispered to me, "No offense, but try to lay low for this one, and remember, you're Eve Norman. Now, let's go have a look at your first dead body."

Paling at his words, I gulped, and followed.