All right, school is over Thursday, so no more being slow posting chapters! yay! Except for camp week, of course, but that's not till the end of June. So anyway, here ya go. Let me know what ya think, and have a great day! Thanks so much! :)

Chapter 12

"Why can't I drive?"

"Because I want to drive," Dean answered immediately, slamming the motel room door behind them. He headed for the car without looking back.

"Dean, it's all of two miles. Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter to you?"

Sam stopped. "This is because I'm sick, isn't it?"

Dean pulled up abruptly and twisted, throwing his arms out. "Why would you automatically assume that?" But his posture and the look on his face screamed guilty.

"Because I know you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He chose to move on with his argument instead of puzzling up an answer to that one. "I'm not an invalid, Dean. I can still drive, for crying out loud." There was no anger this time. He'd been living with this Dean since before they'd left the hospital, and he knew his brother meant well.

But it was still awesomely annoying…and it hurt in a way he didn't want to think about.

"Like I said, maybe I just feel like driving this morning," Dean retorted, looking anywhere but into Sam's face.

"You just feel like driving two miles. At seven in the morning. When I could do it," Sam protested.

His brother shifted awkwardly on his feet, and swiftly turned to unlock the car. "Yeah…"

Sam huffed and moved in over Dean's shoulder. "Look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't have anything to do with my condition."

Dean was silent for a long moment; finally he held up the keys silently, still not looking at him.

"Thank you." Sam snatched them, elbowed his brother away from the driver's side door, and climbed in. "Sometime today, Dean."

Dean grumbled and went around to get in, but he still didn't look happy about it. Thankfully, he seemed to quickly decide to get over—or look like he was over it. By the time they were pulling out he had a new subject to annoy with.

"So, maybe we'll run into Abby."

"I doubt it. Colleges have lots of people," Sam deadpanned.

"This one doesn't have as many as some. It's a definite possibility."

"Uh huh."

Dean grinned. "Come on; you know you wouldn't mind seeing her again."

Sam sighed. Well, no, he wouldn't mind it at all, seeing Abby again. He really wouldn't. But…

"Whatever, Dean."

The student center at Cedarville University that included the dining room was on the edge of the lake that lay in the center of campus, and Dean glanced at the campus map he'd pulled out of his pocket as they climbed out of the car—dressed normally this time—and headed inside.

"Cedarville University in Cedarville, Ohio, and they have to finish it off with Cedarville Lake? Geez…"

"I guess they really like trees," Sam shrugged.

Dean smirked as they made it through the bank of glass doors that led into the building. "Okay…remind me why we're eating in a cafeteria?"

"Incase we overhear something."

"Something like how many cheerleaders got perms over the weekend?"

"I don't know if they have cheerleaders here."

"I'm kidding."

"Yeah, I got that." They fell silent for a moment, crossing the long carpeted lobby to the cafeteria entrance. "Anything could be a clue, remember? Someone could know something that could lead us to the vampire nest, if that's really what we're dealing with here. Someone could have noticed something strange, and this is the place I imagine they'd be talking about it."

Dean nodded. "Exactly. I get it. I'm just not crazy about cafeterias."

"You'll eat whatever's put in front of you," Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. When his brother shrugged, he smiled conspiratorially. "Relax and watch the girls."

"So I'm still allowed to look?" Dean grinned.

"Have at," Sam gestured. Then he lowered his voice even further as they approached the desk. "Discreetly. If that's even possible for you."

Dean elbowed him in retaliation—very lightly, he noticed with annoyance—before he turned to the older man at the desk to pay for their meal before they went in.

The cafeteria was high-ceilinged and open, with half of the walls covered in floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows. It was something of a triangle, with two straight walls were the food lines were. The third side was a series of short, straight walls in a staggered pattern he'd noticed from the outside of the building; those walls were the windows.

"Okay…so it's kinda nice," Dean admitted as they found a table—after waiting for a few minutes in one of the several lines. "Lines not bad, but could be better, though yeah….I guess the place isn't so bad. The deciding factor will be the food."

Sam settled by a window at the end of a table, and Dean went around to sit across from him. Dean dug in immediately, so Sam waited to see what his opinion of the food would be.

"Definitely not bad," he said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Sam smirked and started on his own food.

He'd only gotten a few bites in before Abby passed their table.

It was all his own fault, really, what happened after that. He coughed in surprise, nearly choking on the bite of pancake in his mouth, and noise was probably what made her stop. She looked around, probably trying to make sure whoever it was was all right, and spotted him—them.

"Sam?" Dean was reacting.

"Are you okay?" Abby asked at the same time.

"Yeah! Uh…yeah…" Sam winced, clearing his throat. "I'm fine. Thanks."

"Good…" Abby said, and then frowned in confusion. "Hey…aren't you the FBI agents that talked to me yesterday?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, unsure of how else to handle this.

The girl looked at him, eyes narrowed in though. "Mayers and…Duncan, right?" she asked, glancing back at Dean, too, for confirmation."

Dean nodded quickly, and flashed her a grin. "Yes, indeed. But hey, we're not quite on duty yet. Please, call me Dean. That's Sam."

"Right. Okay…Dean. Sam. It's nice to see you again, I suppose." She glanced around again, uneasily this time. "Hey…do you mind if I sit here?"

Sam started to say no, that wouldn't be a good idea, but his brother chimed in before he could get it out—maybe, he thought later, because part of him didn't want it to get out.

"Not at all! Have a seat."

"Thanks," she smiled. Abby was on Sam's side of the table, and she set her tray down and sat beside him. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to impose, I just—"

"Not imposing."

"This is the first time I've been in the cafeteria since…well…and I'm not sure I could handle sitting with my friends just yet. I have no idea what they'll try to talk about, and I know things will be weird when I do go back, and…anyway, I was looking for a table by myself today."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her there. "It's all right; I think I understand."

Abby smiled brightly at him in thanks, and he found himself smiling back, just like yesterday. He chose to ignore the smirk Dean was sending his way.

"So, what brings the two of you here for breakfast?"

Sam shrugged. "We thought it was possible we might overhear something in here that could help on the case, but I don't think we can tell you any more than that." There went the role-playing again. Sometimes it sucked.

"Oh…"

"Sorry. Uhm…how are you doing, otherwise?"

Dean did exactly what Sam suspected he would do. He backed off and let Sam and Abby have most of the conversation. She didn't seem to mind, and Sam didn't either—except for the fact that he knew what his brother was trying to do.

He couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that it was working.

"Okay, I'm done. I'll head out to the car," Dean announced finally.

Sam glanced over at him curiously. "You're done?"

"Dude, we've been here more then forty-five minutes. I've been back to the line like three times."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Dean snorted, standing up with his tray of empty plates. "Anyway, come out when you're ready to go. We've got work to do today. No rush, though," he grinned.

"Uh huh." He was gone quickly, against his younger brother's protests, and Sam sighed and looked back down at his half-eaten plate of cold food. He quickly scooped up the rest, while Abby did the same from her own plate.

"So you should go?" she asked.

"Yeah, probably. We do have a lot of work ahead of us."

"Right," she nodded. "And is there any of that you can tell me about?"

Sam winced. "As soon as we know what happened, you'll know something. I can promise you that." Only something, because he probably wouldn't be able to tell her the truth—not if it was a nest of vampires doing the killing.

Abby sighed as he stood and picked up his tray. "Okay. Thanks."

Sam nodded, and he thought that was it, but then he heard her pipe up again just as he turned to go.

"Sam?"

He turned back. "What?"

"You don't have to work all day, do you?"

He looked at her curiously. "I guess not…why?" You should have said yes! Or 'pretty much,' or something! No telling what can of worms you're opening now…

Abby smiled sheepishly. "Well, I…was wondering something."

"Like what?" There he went, smiling back again.

"Ah, well there's a little coffee place, downstairs here in this building. I'm usually there late in the afternoons. I thought I'd start going back today. Maybe if you're not working then…you could join me?"

Dean's voice echoed in the back of his mind. Would it hurt anybody to take the girl out for coffee or something? She could probably use the company, at least.

Maybe…maybe he was right.

"I…ah…okay," he said, before he could change his mind.

"Really?"

"Sure," Sam sighed. "Why not? What time are you there?"

"Usually around five."

He smiled briefly. "All right. Maybe I'll see you there then."

"Maybe?" An eyebrow went up.

"It'll still depend on what my partner and I are doing…"

"Of course. Okay…"

"Okay."

Then Sam dropped his tray off and left quickly, wondering what in the world he'd just gotten himself into.


Sitting alone in the Impala waiting for his brother, Dean couldn't help but wonder if he'd done the right thing when they'd left the motel.

He could have lied. He could have looked Sam in the eyes and told him that his condition had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't thought to let Sam drive…that it didn't have anything to do with a lot of things he thought these days.

But, of course, it wouldn't have been true.

Instead he'd handed the keys over, backing down from the challenge, and Dean knew what he'd been saying by doing it. He'd been admitting to the worry, admitting that to him things were very different now. He'd known Sam suspected that, even after the compromise they'd made, but now he knew for sure. He had to know now.

It wouldn't make things any easier, but at least that was one less lie. Maybe they would both keep pretending normalcy for a while, and maybe that was all right for now…but at least it was one less lie.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Sam didn't look so good when he finally made his way out and climbed into the Impala beside his brother, and Dean looked at him in curiously.

"Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah…" he frowned.

"Then what is it?"

He took a breath. "I think I just agreed to meet Abby for coffee this afternoon."

Dean grinned, relief washing away the concern. "Well that's great."

"No, it isn't," Sam protested.

"Why the hell would you say that?"

"I don't know! I just...you heard what I said last night…"

"Yeah, I heard you," Dean admitted. "Didn't you hear what I said?"

"Yes, but—"

Dean held up a finger. "No buts. It'll be fine; it's just coffee, remember?"

Sam sighed. "Fine…"

"Good. Now we're going to find that other kid, and that professor, talk to them, check out the place where the bodies were found and meet up with Bobby, and have you back here by what time?"

"About five?"

"About five?" he questioned.

Sam shrugged. "It's more of a she's-going-to-be-there-anyway thing."

"Ah. Okay. Well, ya gotta start somewhere."

"Shut up."


After heading back to the motel to don the suits again, it took time to track down Blake Allen's roommate. He didn't give them any more information than Abby had. After that it was off to find the professor.

They didn't have to look farther than his office to find Professor Jarran Ray—a fit, middle-aged African-American man with graying hair that didn't quite reach his forehead anymore.

"I don't know that I can tell you anything that might help. Everything is already in the police report. I don't know what happened; I just came home that night, and she was…on the floor…in the kitchen…"

Dean watched Sam give his usual sympathetic wince. "Sir, we know this is hard for you, but anything you can remember…"

"I really can't remember anything else," the man admitted.

"You're certain?" Dean pressed.

"It's all a blur, really."

"Right." He tried to keep the automatic skepticism from his voice, because he knew Sam would bag him for it later, but a little of it slipped out anyway. Sam shot him a look right on cue.

"What about Blake and Kaylah? Did you know them at all?" Sam asked.

Ray nodded slowly. "I certainly did. They were both in one of my classes this semester. They were two of my best students…" He shook his head sadly. "I just don't understand what's happening here."

"Well, that's what we're trying to find out," Dean said. "So, Blake Allen and Kaylah Bowman…did you happen to notice anything in the days before their desks? Anything out of the ordinary? Maybe they were acting strangely? Skittish? Was there anything different at all?"

"Not that I can recall, no. Why do you ask?"

"Standard procedure."

"I see…" The professor trailed off, looking at them strangely. For reasons he couldn't put a finger on, Dean's hackles went up. They quickly deflated when the man shook it off and sat up a little straighter, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling.


Bobby met the boys—who were already back in their own clothes--for a late lunch in the diner in town, and they all kept to a secluded corner booth to avoid anyone overhearing their case conversation.

"Well those poor kids were bled out all right, but the wounds are inconsistent. I'm not sure it's vampires we're dealing with here," he reported immediately.

"Aww damn, really? I wanted to kick some vampire ass," Dean grumbled.

"Wouldn't that be 'neck' instead? You have to cut their heads off, after all," Sam retorted.

"Doesn't matter; you wouldn't be doing it either way," Dean snapped back.

Sam frowned and sat back on the bench, crossing his arms, obviously not happy with the reminder of their deal—the one Dean had let Bobby in on before they'd left his place the morning before. He had to admit it was a good compromise, and it kept him from worrying as much as he might have otherwise.

Still, Sam didn't seem entirely satisfied with it, and Bobby couldn't help but worry about him anyway.

The three of them exchanged the rest of the information they'd gathered so far that day, but they didn't seem to have anything workable until Dean stopped short with an exclamation.

"'Hey' what?" Sam frowned.

"Didn't that professor guy say that both of those students were in one of his classes? I think he even said they were two of his best," Dean said quickly.

"Yeah…I think he said that. Why?"

"That makes him connected to all three victims."

Realization dawned on Sam's face, and Bobby now saw where they were going, too. "You think we should keep an eye on this guy."

"I sure do. If he's not in danger himself, he might be the thing we're looking for."

Sam scoffed. "You don't think that guy is—"

"Stranger things have happened," Dean shrugged. "Either way, whether he's a suspect or he needs to be protected from whatever this is…we should keep an eye on him."

Bobby nodded. "Agreed. Now have you checked out the place where the bodies were found?"

"Not yet," Sam answered.

"Then finish up your lunch, boys; we've got work to do."

The spillway was small, and one couldn't even stand up under the walkway over it. Now that he saw that, Bobby doubted the murders had actually taken place here. Rather, whatever had done it had wanted the bodies found, more than likely. He couldn't imagine why, but there were plenty of things out there that liked to show off their work.

The grass around the area had been cut and sprayed, but some of it was still tinted red, and the dried blood hadn't been quite washed from the concrete yet. They tried to pick up a trail in the grass, but it only led them down the hill to a gravel road before they lost it. From there, there were too many patterns and ruts in the path and the mud and the gravel to make any distinction between them.

"Okay…so that helped us absolutely none," Dean commented in annoyance.

The three of them ended up in the boys' motel room, Dean flipping channels and Sam buried in his computer looking for possibilities while Bobby made phone calls and sometimes glanced at whatever Dean wasn't really watching.

"Sam, get your nose out of the internet," Dean said finally. "It's past four."

Bobby glanced up from the notes in front of him, curious.

"So?" Sam replied absently.

"So, you've got a date at five, stupid."

Bobby blinked. "A what?"

Sam answered quickly, still not looking up from his computer—though now it appeared to be from embarrassment. "It's not a date. It's just the girl we interviewed yesterday; the roommate…"

"Who asked Sammy here out for coffee," Dean grinned.

"I see," he answered, feigning disinterest. He stood, shuffling his notes together. "Ah, Dean, could you help me bring a few things in here from the other room? We should probably keep our research materials together."

The older Winchester looked over and frowned a little, but he stood slowly. "Sure." But Dean knew Bobby didn't want to do anything with any books, and he let him know it as soon as Bobby's motel room door next door was closed behind them.

"Okay, so what is it now?"

"What's going on with this girl?"

"Nothing; she just asked him for coffee, and he's going." It wasn't a question.

Bobby grimaced. "Dean…"

The older Winchester became defensive immediately. "What? Do you have a problem with that?"

"I have a problem with you encouraging him."

"He never would have agreed if I hadn't been ribbing him about her since we talked to her. It was pretty obvious she liked him from the start, and I mean, he deserves a little happiness, don't you think?"

He held up a hand. "I'm not arguing with that, Dean, because you're right, but…I'm not sure if this is the right way to make that happen."

Dean scowled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Dean, you know how likely that boy is to get emotionally attached. It's just the way he is," Bobby sighed. "If that happens, anything could follow. He might feel like he has to tell her the truth about his condition, at the very least, but he won't want to hurt her, and that could open the door to any number of hurts for him."

"Bobby, we talked about this. We both agreed that it's just for good company. Hey, I even agreed not to try to hook up while we're here—Christian university, and all that. We get it. You don't have anything to worry about."

He eyed the younger man skeptically. "I'm sure you think so, but just be careful, all right? Watch out for your brother."

Dean sighed, and the defensiveness and annoyance fell away. "For once you don't have to tell me twice."

Bobby nodded, and the two of them grabbed a few of his books from the desk in the room to bring back, to keep up their ruse. But Sam was in the shower when they returned, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway.