Thank you all for the wonderful reviews for the previous chapter. Here's Chapter 3 now ready. I do hope you enjoy. More notes at the end.

Chapter 3

The scene in Sandra's apartment was quite similar to the one in Marissa's place. A lot of blood and no trace of a body. No sign of a struggle, either, which was what baffled everyone. It was hard to believe someone could be that hurt and not put up a fight.

When they arrived there, Sam immediately crouched down to bond with the terrified Rottweiler, while Dean turned to the equally terrified police officer.

"Agent," he said. "I've gotta say, I feel really responsible for this. She came to us and we failed her."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. "You think this is her stalker?"

The officer shrugged.

"Looks like it. We told her there was nothing we could do. The guy was only sending her stuff. She didn't even know who he was. We never thought he would become violent. Sandra did, though. You know, she mentioned Marissa to us. We told her there was no way Marissa's attacker and her own stalker were connected. We were sure of it."

Dean frowned.

"How come you were so sure?" he challenged.

"Isn't this how this usually goes? These stalker types tend to fixate on one victim at a time. Maybe we misjudged the guy."

"Maybe you did," Dean conceded, not wanting to give the officer a break.

Part of him was telling him that, no matter what the officer had done, Sandra would still have been taken. She had fallen in the sights of something supernatural. Even if the police had offered her protection, it wouldn't have helped her much. Another part, however, was unwilling to cut the guy some slack since Sandra had gone to them for help and they had simply told her not to be hysterical.

Dean glanced at Sam who was still patting the rottweiler. The thing looked as if he had just entered doggy heaven. Poor bastard deserved it, Dean realized, after whatever he had seen happen to his mistress.

"Friendly dog," the officer commented. "Not exactly guard dog material. Probably why Sandra was taken."

"Whoever took Sandra bypassed a locked door and an alarm system before getting to the dog," Dean pointed out. "I don't think anything could have helped Sandra while he was in the house."

He went on a discrete search of the house, keeping out of the police's way. There was nothing on the EMF, just like at Marissa's place. But, just like there, Dean could not escape the feeling of wrong. Something unnatural had happened there. He just could not tell what.

When he got back from his tour of the house, Sam was still with his new found friend.

"Do you two need more time alone?" Dean quipped.

Sam rolled his eyes, but got up, giving the regretful dog another pat. He glanced at the police officer.

"What's going to happen to him without his owner?"

Dean bit his tongue to prevent himself from reminding Sam they were the last people who could take care of a dog. Besides, the poor mutt had been traumatized by the supernatural enough for his lifetime. No use adding the Winchesters into the mix.

"Oh, Sandra Hayes' sister is coming to get him," the officer said. "Trotter was a gift from her. A way for Sandra to feel safe. Too bad it didn't work out."

xxXXXxxxx

One visit to the travel agency Sandra had worked at brought the confirmation that, indeed, Daniel Heitmeier had worked with them. No one knew his address. He seemed like a nice guy, according to the manager, who gave him the address of Heitmeier's grandmother. Daniel apparently visited her often.

Katherine Heitmeier lived in a cookie-cut neighborhood in the kind of house that made Dean cringe. Sam described it as cute, which, of course, offered his brother ammunition that would last for several weeks after their case.

"Yes, Daniel still visits sometimes," Katherine told them, as she placed a tray laden with cookies in front of them (she had never fed FBI agents before, so she claimed, and she insisted the two eat as much as they liked). "Once every couple of months. Used to be once a week, but that was before."

"Before what, Mrs. Heitmeier?" Sam asked, discreetly kicking Dean's leg under the table since his brother apparently intended to lay claim on all the cookies. "Does this have anything to do with him discovering his roots? We've heard he was excited that he was descended from some Germanic population or other."

Heitmeier snorted.

"Family legend," she dismissed it. "I told him he should not take it seriously. Yes, we do have German roots – the name's kind of a giveaway, after all. But Daniel came once and started spouting some legend about this miller who had made some demonic deal in exchange for magical power. He said it would be the answer to everything." She paused and shook her head, then eyes her two guests uneasily. "He's not in any trouble, is he? He hasn't done anything he shouldn't have, I mean."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. The truth was, they could not really tell exactly what Daniel Heitmeier had done, and they did not think it would go well with the grandmother to let her know he might have been involved in the brutal murder of two women.

"He's just a person of interest, Mrs. Heitmeier," Sam said. "He might have been connected to a case we're working on, but we're not sure."

"It would really help if we could talk to him," Dean said brightly. "I'm sure Daniel could help clear all this up."

Katherine did not look convinced.

"Right," she said flatly. "I'm sure."

"The only problem is, no one seems to know where he is," Dean went on. "We couldn't find him at home."

They expected Katherine to be worried, but she apparently was used to her grandson's strange ways.

"He does like to go on what he calls privacy retreats," she said. "Sometimes it's to places where he can take pictures. Other times it's at his dark room."

"Where is his dark room?" Sam wanted to know.

Katherine shrugged.

"He's never told me. I don't think anyone knows. Well, no, maybe that's not correct. Tilly knew."

"Tilly?" Sam repeated. "Who's Tilly?"

"She was Daniel's fiancée," Katherine said. "Nice girl, even though she did break things off. She said they were incompatible. Daniel took it bad for a while."

Dean smirked. It seemed they had found Daniel's trigger. Maybe all this was revenge on the one who got away.

Katherine got up and fumbled with something in one of her drawers.

"I have a picture of her," she explained. "I keep it hidden, because it upsets Daniel. Do you want to see it?"

The brothers nodded eagerly. Katherine handed it to Sam, who stared at it, then gave it to Dean. It was easy to spot – Tilly was a dead ringer for both Marissa and Sandra.

As the brothers headed back to the car, laden with a box of cookies, they were discussing their recent find.

"So, Daniel feels jilted," Sam concluded. "He looks into his background, finds out one of his ancestors might have dabbled in dark magic. Maybe finds a spell book, too."

"And decides to take revenge on the chicks who ignored him," Dean added. "Of course, that's bad news for Tilly. She might be next."

Sam nodded thoughtfully.

"We need to find Daniel's dark room," he said.

"We also need to find out what kind of spells he's using," Dean added. "Any ideas?"

Sam shrugged, non committal.

"Maybe. I should head to the library, though. There are some things I want to look over."

Dean nodded.

"I'll drop you off, then. I want to check out Tilly."

The corners of Sam's mouth tilted upwards.

"I bet you do."

Dean looked offended.

"Are you implying I'm unprofessional, Sam?"

Sam snorted.

"Right," he said dryly. "This is business, not pleasure."

Dean was leering now.

"Mixing business with pleasure is what makes life worth living, Sammy. Take it from an expert."

They drove off, not noticing the car coming from the driveway next to Katherine's and heading slowly after them.

xxxXXXXxxxxxx

Dean walked into the small library, searching for his brother. He found him quickly, since not many people chose to spend their afternoons surrounded by dusty books. He did not approach him, though, taking the time to assess Sam, without Sam knowing he was doing it. He recognized the small frown of concentration that Sam usually wore during research, and the small, unconscious gestures that were all Sam deep in thought. All the habits Dean had remembered about his brother when Sam had been away at college and Dean had been spending his evenings in the ratty motel of the week, with Dad goodness knew where and only a pile of weapons to keep Dean company. He had wondered many times then if Sam's forehead still scrunched up during research for some fancy college essay, if his hands would still play with the pen or some wrapper on the table, as he tried to take in some information that interested him. It was all there now, and the only thing Dean could think about was how much he had missed seeing Sam like this and how much he was relieved, despite everything that had happened, that he still had the chance to see him again.

When he finally approached the table, Sam did not even look up.

"I thought you were going to keep staring at me like a creep from across the room," he muttered.

Dean felt himself blushing.

"I wasn't staring," he said, using his go-to strategy to cover his embarrassment. "I was just watching the geek in his natural habitat. For research purposes, you know."

He had missed that small look of annoyance Sam would give him even more.

"So, how did it go with Tilly?" Sam asked.

Dean smirked.

"Tilly," he repeated dreamily. "She was wearing this cute tight blouse and those yoga pants…"

"Can you give me the PG-13 version instead of the one in your fantasies?" Sam interrupted.

Dean strove to hide his amusement. Sometimes his little brother was so predictable, it was way too easy to mess with him.

"Right," he said, turning serious. "Tilly and Daniel were high school sweethearts. They lived together for three years. Then Tilly started to realize Daniel was a bit off. Too clingy and intense, according to her, too obsessed with what she did in her free time, if it didn't involve him. They were supposed to get married but Tilly decided to break it off, not surprising. He reacted badly – stalked her for a bit. Tilly actually managed to get a restraining order against Daniel and hasn't seen him in six months."

Sam nodded taking all of this in.

"She might be in danger now, though," he said. "Maybe Daniel has been working up to her all this time. Maybe Marissa and Sandra were just small slights and acted as the dress rehearsal, so to speak."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"I gotta say, you speak pshyco way too fluently, Sammy. Should I be worried?"

Sam snorted.

"I took a course during my second year. Profiling and such."

"What like training to catch serial killers?" Dean asked intrigued.

It surprised him, really. Sam, who had been running from the family business had still been drawn to hunting evil, just in a different way. It actually said a lot about Sam.

"Well, it's not like we haven't impersonated feds or cops ever since I started to look of age," Sam pointed out. "Anyway, I couldn't have done it. They need too extensive background checks. Nothing I had would hold to scrutiny."

Dean didn't have any answer to that. He could say he had not wanted this sort of a life for Sam until he was blue in the face. What good would it do to anyone?

"I have some good news, though," he said, changing the subject. "I'm pretty sure I know where the dark room is. Tilly told me Daniel was renting some place in a shady part of town. She sometimes picked Daniel up from there, but she always waited in the car. Daniel forbade her from ever going in."

Sam tilted his head.

"That's consistent with a dark room. If she entered when he was developing photos, they would be ruined."

Dean grunted.

"Or he hides his crazy there."

"Or both," Sam pointed out. "I think we should have a look."

Dean pointed to the books.

"Do we even know what we're looking for?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "I'd need to see the place to be sure. Don't worry, Dean, I'm sure we're safe during the day."

Dean had to wait for Sam to put all the books where he had found them and gather his notes. He noticed his brother was squinting like he was developing a headache – probably from the poor lighting in the library and reading all that small faded print. He decided to cut Sam some slack for now and tease him about his OCD tendencies later.

xxxXXXxxxx

The condo Daniel Heitmeier had rented was actually two rooms. One of them was, indeed, the dark room. There was nothing much to be seen there. Daniel had developed some pictures, most likely from his trip abroad. Sam looked very interested in one of them, though. When Dean glanced at it, he saw it was of a mill at night.

"This telling you anything?"

Sam pocketed the picture.

"Maybe," he said. "Let's check the next room."

The next room was separated from the dark room by a heavy velvet curtain. Sam and Dean walked inside and stopped in their tracks. Dean whistled.

"That's something you don't expect to see in the house of a normal, well-balanced individual. I know I shouldn't be one to judge, but really…"

There were half-burnt candles scattered all over the room, along with vials filled with Dean was sure he did not want to know what. There was an altar in the middle, and the pictures of Marissa together with some guy, Sandra, and Tilly were arranged there. The corners of Marissa and Sandra's pictures were burnt.

"His two victims," Sam said. "Tilly's next, but he hasn't got to her yet."

"So, you think that mumbo jumbo he was telling the manager at the wedding store was true?" Dean asked. "Heitmeier really found some wizard rootswhen he was in Europe?"

"It's the mill that confirms it," Sam said. "I managed to dig up this Wendish legend. The Wends were a group of Slavic populations near German settlements. There is a surviving community in Germany and they even have a diaspora here in Texas. Many of them came here in the 1800s. I found something about a place that loosely translates as the Black Mill. Heitmeier's picture is of that. It's a tourist attraction, but there are some seriously dark legends about it."

"How dark?" Dean prompted.

Sam moved aside the bowl on the altar. There was a burnt spot on the table.

"The miller was supposed to have sold his soul in exchange for the art of witchcraft. People later referred to him as the Wendish Faust. Some variants of the story even say that he turned a mill into a sort of magic school. Drawing others to the dark arts. So his knowledge was passed on. I think that was part of the deal."

Dean frowned.

"And it was passed on until it got to Daniel Heitmeier several centuries later and on another continent?" he asked skeptically.

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe Daniel Heitmeier put some serious research into looking up his roots. He uncovered something of his ancestor's. He decided to try some magic of his own."

"So you're saying Daniel Heitmeier sold his soul for magic?"

But Sam shook his head. He bent down to examine something under the table that served as an altar.

"Look at this, Dean."

Dean knelt down next to Sam. He saw the same burnt marks that were on the table. But this time, they were shaped like claws.

"What the hell? You're saying Heitmeier's got some magic creature on a leash, right? Some kind of binding spell? He's siccing it on the women who reject him?"

Sam nodded grimly.

"That also explains why we can't find any bodies. Whatever this is must be needing some kind of nourishment and…well..."

Dean thought he was going to be sick.

"So, what do you think it will take to kill it?"

Sam frowned, deep in concentration. Dean did not like that look. It was more than a "steam-running-out-of-Sammy's head from thinking too hard" look. Sam knew what he was about to tell was something Dean wouldn't like.

"I don't think it can be killed at all, Dean," he said. "If it was brought from wherever it was brought through magic, killing it might not work. Heitmeier might just get another one of those things."

"Fine, then we deal with Heitmeier, too."

He did not need to be looking at Sam to know his brother did not approve of the statement and was about to get all self-righteous.

"He's human, Dean,"

"He's killed three people Sam! Or had them killed. And he's gunning for a fourth. What other options do we have?"

"We perform a ritual to free whatever Heitmeier has on a leash," Sam said quickly.

Dean did not find that the perfect plan.

"What happens to it then?" he challenged. "Won't it start killing on its own?"

Sam, however, shook his head. He got up from where he was kneeling and looked around the room.

"Generally these things don't want to kill, Dean. Especially not at someone's orders. It is quite likely that, once is freed, it will simply leave, taking Daniel Heitmeier's powers with it. As for Heitmeier, we'll just have to put the fear of god into him"

Dean snorted.

"I'll do better," he said. "I'll put the fear of Dean Winchester. By the time I'm done, the douchebag will think ten times before even looking at a woman. So, what's the plan? We wait for Heitmeier here?"

Sam hesitated.

"I think our best bet is to spend the night outside Tilly's house. We know that's where he's going to be."

Dean nodded, slapping Sam on the shoulder.

"Let's not waste any more time then."

XXXXXXxxxXXX

The figure waited hidden in the shadows of a building. It watched the two brothers as they left the building and drove away in their fancy car. It stood in the shadows for a little while longer – just to be safe – then made his way into the building.

Daniel had followed the two men ever since he had spotted them outside his apartment building. He had suspected they were after him, although he had no idea how they could have known what he was doing. He had driven his old battered car – not as flashy as theirs, which made it safe, as no one would look at it twice – after the strangers, panicking as he traced their steps to Sandra Hayes' building and even to his grandmother's house. When the two of them had split up in front of the library, and the Impala had driven on to Tilly's place, Daniel had a plan in his mind. He was not going to enjoy it. He had not enjoyed anything he had done so far and had never planned to have more victims than the three women he thought had treated him badly. But this was self-preservation. He had to do it.

He took out his camera and set on developing his most recent film. He watched as the image of the two men appeared on the paper. He would let them dry, and then set fire to one. Tonight, his ally would feast once more. Only not on Tilly, as he had intended. On someone else.

To be continued

-Wendish refers in general to old Slavic populations around German settlements. Some of them are extinct, some of them still have a few representatives, like the Sorbs, who are located mostly in the German province of Saxony and who have communities in Australia and in Texas (where they emigrated in the 1800 fleeing persecution). Those still left in Germany were more or less forcibly assimilated, and have undergone discrimination even as late as the 21st century (schools teaching Sorbian language often had their funding cut).

-The legend Sam is referring to is the story of a wizard named Krabat, who was known as the Wendish Faust, since he sold his soul for black magic. Later on he was turned into a folk hero (there's a novel with the same title, as well as a movie based on the novel) who was said to have founded a magic school. Some variants have the school placed in Schwarzkolm, which is a mill (the place is actually real and tourists can visit it).