AN: Thanks as always to my reviewers, I really appreciate all of the support! I know this chapter is kind of short and crappy, but it's been a long week. Things will improve in the next chapter.

Chapter 7

"Now let me get this straight," Emily paused to take a long pull on her Diet Coke, knowing the caffeine in the drink would only put her more on edge. "You two are hunting the guy who murdered the Finches?"

"Guy, thing, same difference," Dean said under his breath from his seat beside the girl. The three of them were seated at a booth in Hooter's, an untouched basket of wings steaming on the table.

Sam shot his brother a dirty look. "I know it sounds a little crazy, but you have to believe us," he leaned closer to Emily, setting his forearms on the table.

"Then why do you think I'm in danger?"

Dean twirled his beer bottle in his fingers, staring at the brown glass as he answered. "Two weeks ago, a man in Richmond disappeared after his family was strangely murdered. A week and a half ago, a woman in Knoxville did the same. Two days ago, Bill Freemont's family ended up dead. Now, the Finches are dead and your friend is missing."

Emily had a 'so what' face as she glanced from one brother to another. "But that still doesn't explain why my life is in peril," she said calmly, as though explaining the obvious to two children.

"There's a connection between all of the families," Dean went on just as calmly. "At least one member went to UT in seventy six. In your family, that person is your dad. Your entire family may be in danger because this 'murderer' doesn't like leaving any survivors."

Emily's brow creased with worry. "Do you have any idea who could be doing this?"

Dean sighed. How could he explain this? Tell her about a psycho demon with a really serious grudge against Tennessee fans? Nope, just have to lie. "We think we have an idea, but we can't tell you," he said, turning to look at her.

She folded her arms. "Why not? Wouldn't it be beneficial if I could recognize my attacker?"

Too damn many questions! Dean wanted to scream. Why couldn't Emily have been one of those gullible bimbos who hung on every word he said? No, Dad had to send him after one of the clever ones.

Thankfully, Sam saved him from answering. " You're just going to have to trust on this," Sam's deep eyes were earnest as they searched Emily's face.

The girl looked back and forth between the two brothers, switching from those puppy-dog-brown eyes to the fierce hazel ones. Finally, she sighed deeply, like a tiny brunette balloon deflating before them. "Fine," she said, resting her elbows on the table and folding her hands beneath her chin. "Although it goes against my better judgement, I believe you guys."

Dean's relief was evident as he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and hastily scribbled down his cell number. "Here," he said, placing the paper on the table in front of Emily. "I want you to call me if you notice anything out of the ordinary. I mean anything. If your mom changes ketchup brands, I wanna be the first to know."

Emily chuckled softly and tucked the phone number into the pocket of her jeans. "You take this whole fake detective routine pretty seriously."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam across the table. If only she knew just how seriously…

-O-

It was after two when they headed back to the Impala and the car show was still in full swing. There were now three other cars that had joined Sean in a battle of sound systems and Dean could hardly stand the rivaling hip-hop beats that seemed to make the air vibrate. He threw a wave at Sean, who nodded in return, and he and Sam climbed into the car.

"How do people listen to that? It's just noise!" Dean ranted as he backed the Impala out of its parking space and threw it into drive.

"You know, there are many people who say the same thing about the crap you listen to," Sam said with a grin.

In response, Dean cranked up the volume and blasted his brother with heavy metal.

They spent the rest of the afternoon trying and failing to gain any further information on all of the victims. Everyone from Freemont to McPherson had outstanding grades in college and none of them were registered in any of the same clubs or school organizations. They knew that there was a vital piece of information they were missing, but had no clue as to what was.

"You know," Sam tried to avoid yawning as he climbed from the car in front of their motel. "I'm starting to wonder if we're gonna be able to stop this thing."

"What are you talking about?" Dean raised his eyebrows, daring his brother to say anything more. "This is our job, this is what we do, Sam. We always get the bastard in the end and you know that."

Sam sighed, Dean's response had been quick and was intended to put an end to the conversation, but had come out sounding more like a plea. He didn't want to let Dad down, and Sam knew it. "I know we do, Dean. But face it, we're stuck right now."

Dean jerked open the back door and reached in for his duffel bag. "You think I don't know that?" his voice become impatient. "You don't have to…"

"What? What is it?" Sam asked, trying to peer across the roof at his suddenly silent brother.

Dean's spiky hair appeared, followed by his perplexed face. He had something in his hands that was wrapped in newspaper and he set it on top of the roof. Sam watched as he unwrapped the package and saw the post-it note that threatened to blow away in the breeze. Dean snatched up the note and scanned it quickly before handing it to Sam.

Dean – I know this isn't much, but it's important. It was under the girl's bed, but don't ask her because she doesn't know about it. It was her father's.

Sam looked up from the note to see Dean grimacing. "Dad," Dean muttered and his Adam's apple bobbed so hard that it looked as if it might tear through the skin.

"Well, what is it," Sam asked quietly.

Dean sniffed loudly and picked up what their father had left them, a book. It was old, the edges of the pages were tattered and yellowed, and it was bound in leather. "The Servant's Prayerbook," Dean turned the cover towards Sam so he could read the title as well.

Sam reached across the car and took the book. It was heavy and the cover was worn smooth from years of handling. "Let's get inside and see what we can pull up on the laptop about this thing."

Dean shook his head and flipped Sam the room key. "See what you can find, I've got someplace I need to go."