Oops! I thought that chapter was missing something, and it was--the ending!! Here is the rest of chapter 20! Sorry!! (But while I'm here...)

Thank you Lover,

Thank you Stakemenow,

Thank you Shaz,

Hope everyone is ready for the fun stuff, because it's coming up fast... If I lose you, let me know and I'll be sure to explain. Enjoy and take care though!

I eventually deemed the equipment useless and unnecessary (because even if it was accurate, it was obvious that the entire town was evil, and I didn't need some stupid little machine beeping every instant to tell me that.) So I drove around for hours. Checked the bar, the train station, high ways, side streets—everywhere I could possibly think of—and after realizing that all that looking had gotten me absolutely no where, I knew I'd need help.

I never would admit to it, but, I also wouldn't risk not getting it. Not while Sam was in danger. No way. I had to find him, and I'd come to the conclusion that I'd need more information on the town. Some local that knew the legends, the stories, and the history of the place. I needed those girls.

More specifically, I needed Kiersa.

Mariah? She'd broken my heart, and I really didn't think I could look at her. Plus, I couldn't let myself become distracted with my own life, not while Sam's was on the line. On top of that, I knew Kiersa already knew about the kind of work we did, and, even adding to that, I knew she liked Sam—or, at least I hoped she did—because then she'd be eager to help. She'd do anything to save him.

When I knocked on the door, I prayed she'd answer.

She did, and the first thing she did after opening it was close it.

I had that much coming, I'll give her that. And as tempted as I was to reach out and stop that door from slamming in my face, I held back and simply asked her to wait. I sounded cheap, and weak, and the look she gave me made me feel like such a fool, but she must have heard the desperation in my voice because she listened.

"Sammy's gone." I said, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. "He's gone, and I need your help."

Her eyes turned away from me, for a moment, like she was bothered by the sight of me, but she still held off on closing the door.

"I don't believe you." She lied, turning her eyes back to me. Studying me to see if I'd crack. I knew she believed me, because she wouldn't have even bothered saying that if she truly didn't. She would have just shut me out.

She was still hesitant, though. I could see it in her eyes. There was a fear there—not for me or Sam, but for herself. For whatever reason, something had changed. She didn't trust me anymore, which was weird. She had trusted me when I was a stranger in her house and back at the restaurant. Heck, even after telling her about Sam's last girlfriend, she still technically dated me. Yet now, when I needed her the most, she was a stonewall.

"Please. I need your help. I don't know where else to go."

"Did you try the cops?"

"The cops?" I laughed, realizing then that my going there had been a mistake. When she said that, I knew I had to leave. I should have known I'd need to do this on my own. I mean, was she serious? Had I not been clear or specific enough when I'd dropped the werewolf-bomb? I guess I had grossly underestimated her. Seriously. The cops. I had to laugh as I turned and walked away. The cops.

"Dean, wait." I heard her call after me. I didn't turn to see her. Didn't want to. I just stood there, staring at my car, wondering if I should bother.

"What can I do?"

The reluctance in her voice had me wondering if she sincerely wanted to help or if she just felt obligated to. It really pissed me off, too, because I knew, had the roles been reversed, and she'd shown up knocking on my door, asking for help with her sister, I'd jump at the chance—but not this girl. As nice as she seemed, she didn't really seem to care. I just didn't get her, but I knew I didn't have the time to figure her out. When she invited me in, I accepted, and she immediately changed her tune.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Kiersa asked closing the door behind me. I made my way to the living room, but she chose not to follow. She just stood by the door, so I stopped and turned to face her.

"Uh.. Your sister called me. He had a hamburger. A paper. And that's it."

"That's it? That's all you remember?" She sounded suspicious.

"Yes! No.." I shook my head, and thought for a moment but that was all I could remember.

She must have sensed my frustration, though. Her voice became soft. Caring, almost, and I think, for a minute, she was honestly trying to calm me down.

"Okay, that's okay. A hamburger and a paper?" She thought about it before asking the irrelevant. Did you two have a fight? Does he have a cell phone? Where would he have gone? She really had her thinking cap on, I could tell. I tried my best not to get annoyed with her, but a new question soon popped into her head, and I lost it. "Why did my sister call you?" She seemed offended.

"Like you don't know." I snorted.

"She broke up with you, Dean."

"Yeah. That's why she called me." I answered the queen of obvious with a rude glare. "Do you have to rub it in?"

As hard as it was to say, I was glad I put it that way, because she definitely looked ashamed about asking. Or, at least I thought she did.

"That was almost three days ago. You're saying you haven't seen your brother in three days, and you're just now realizing he's gone?"

I laughed at the absurdity of the thought. "Three days? No, I just saw him. With ..the ..hamburger. Three days?"

Could it have really been three days? I placed my hands against my head and thought about it. Everything started to spin.

"Dean? The blood?" Her words were very clearly stated, as if she was trying to keep me focused. "Where did it come from?"

I tried my hardest to figure out what I'd missed, while I tried my best to keep from zoning out again, but everything was happening so fast. I thought about the blood—what blood? Whose blood? My blood? Sam's? I didn't know.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, glancing at my hip. I shook myself out of the trance and looked down to see the blood. Not feeling any pain, I lifted the shirt to check for any injuries I might have possibly not realized I had, but as I suspected, there were none. By the time I looked back up at her, she looked, as the expression goes, as pale as a ghost.

I knew what she was thinking. She was thinking that it was Sam's blood on my shirt—hell, I was thinking it too. Whose else could it have been? But it didn't make sense. It was a thin straight red line, as if I'd been cut. If the blood had belonged to anyone else, it wouldn't have been so neatly spread. Right?

Three days. Fresh blood. Not even a scratch. It didn't add up.

My mind started racing, the way it normally did when Sam was in danger, but this was something else. It seemed the more I tried to think about what had happened, the more I couldn't remember. It was a true mental block, and it scared me.

Sometime during this freak out, Kiersa had realized I was sincerely worried. She told me to calm down, smiled, and said it would all be all right, but what did she know? Neither of us knew a single thing--her even less than me--and yet there she was telling me it was all going to be okay—the nerve.

"I need to find him."

I barely recognized my own voice. It was hoarse and desperate—and I hated that I couldn't sound stronger. "But I don't even know where to start."

"Okay, why did you come here?"

That was the first thing she asked, and it really set me off. I think the look I gave her told her that too, because she immediately restated her question. "You came here because you thought I could help you—why me? What can I do?"

"This town. I need to know… everything about this town. This city, the history. Legends? The ghost stories? The odds the ends. I need to know everything. Every single thing."

"Okay, ..um. Well," She thought real hard about the question, but came up short.

"Anything, Kiers. Unsolved mysteries, murders, anything out of the ordinary. Uh…" As I racked my brain trying to find some other way to explain this to her, a saw a lightbulb go off inside her skull.

"Two years ago, uh… this kid went missing from Emerson County. They found his body behind the coffee shop, but never found his killer."

"Okay, vengeful spirit. That's good. Anything else? No matter how crazy. Anything?"

"The hill—There's an old house up on Mill Hill, nobody's lived there for about seventy years. Everyone jokes about it being haunted. Oh, and there is this really weird tree in the valley, nobody remembers seeing it in all their lives, but it's there? That kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's good. Thank you."

I nodded my head to show my gratitude, but something in her eyes caught my attention. She wouldn't look at me directly; I knew she was trying to ask me something.

"So… all that stuff …about the werewolf, and, um, your strange, 'complicated' lives." She laughed, "This is it?"

"This is it." I laughed too, and thanked her again before I left.

It was all too clear that my brother had been right— we weren't dating material, and we certainly weren't cut out for happily ever after. Me and my foolish, selfish desires. Why'd I have to kid myself?

That poor girl would probably never sleep again, and it was all my fault. I'd scarred her for life. The uncertainty in her voice and that fear in her eyes? Made me hate myself for dragging her into this life. For telling her more than she ever needed to know. She didn't understand any of it, and she shouldn't have to.

Still, I was more than half glad that it was Kiersa standing there, and not Mariah; that was selfish too.