Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!

This update is a little longer. It was going to be two parts, but I didn't like how it divided. As a result, it's one long chapter.

I hope you like it!

Part 6 –Revelations

"I want to know how that wallet survived the fire and three years of weather," Sam frowned at the seemingly innocuous billfold.

The brothers were on their way into town. They had no luck finding the body, but felt that perhaps Lawrence merely wanted people to know he was dead. They could inform the authorities and point them in the right direction. After that, their work was done.

Dean suppressed a smirk. "With everything that happened tonight- the ghost car, our car being taken over, the strange light, the snapping twigs leading us to the area and finding the wallet of the very man who's haunting the place- you're worried about how it survived?"

"Maybe not the most pressing question," Sam acknowledged. "Still, there's no money in here, but there's a picture of a woman."

He held up a blurry Polaroid shot of a woman in a waitress uniform. The woman appeared to be in her early thirties. She was holding a tray and the picture had clearly been taken as she was in mid-sentence.

"Girlfriend?" Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged and flipped the picture over. "Nothing here but a name and the year- Susan, 2002."

"Could be that Lawrence wants her to know he's dead. Unfinished business is one of the main reasons for a haunting."

"We'll make sure to tell her before we leave."

The sky had already begun to brighten in the early dawn. The little town would soon come to life as people went about their business.

The small sheriff's office was apparently unmanned overnight. No cars sat in the gravel lot.

"I guess a town this size really doesn't need a night shift," Dean noted. "Wanna grab some breakfast?"

The lights were on in the little diner down the road and a sign proudly advertised the best bacon and eggs in the county.

"Sounds good," Sam agreed.

Dean parked the car in front of the diner.

"Let's go." He looked back as Sam paused. "C'mon. I'm hungry."

Sam glanced at the picture in his hand and then back to his brother. "Do you think she works here?"

Dean shrugged. "It's possible."

"If she does, we're going to really make a mess of her day; telling her what happened to Frank. She might have gotten over it and we're just going to dredge it all up again."

Dean nodded sympathetically. "It's still better that she knows, bro."

"I guess."

The diner was small, but clean. Sam glanced around as they entered, but there was no blonde woman working there. An older, fifty-something woman was just putting on coffee when they approached the counter.

Dean flashed the woman his most charming smile. "Hello, ma'am. We read your sign and we're here for the best bacon and eggs in the county."

The woman smiled in response. "Well, this is the place for them. Take a seat anywhere you boys like. Can I get you some coffee when it's ready?"

"That'd be great," Dean agreed. He turned to find a table, noting with a slight annoyance that Sam hadn't followed.

He looked back toward the counter and saw Sam speaking softly with the woman.

Dean pursed his lips. Sam was asking about the woman in the picture. His brother couldn't even leave it alone until after breakfast. He pulled out a chair at the table near the door and waited for the younger Winchester to join him.

Sam thanked the waitress and turned back to Dean.

"What'd she say?" Dean asked as Sam sat down.

"Her name is Susan Morris and she owns this place," Sam replied. "She inherited it from her father after he died last year. Trudy told me where Susan lives. It's right in town, so we can talk to her after breakfast. She'll be up and around then."

"Trudy, huh?"

"She was very helpful."

Dean nodded. "You went with the friend of a friend story, didn't you?"

Sam shrugged. "Just passing through and had a message to deliver from an old acquaintance."

"Lame," Dean commented, shaking his head. "You really need to work on that. You are horrible at cover stories, Sammy."

"It's Sam, and I'm not horrible at it. I seem to recall someone else getting a little too specific with his cover stories and nearly getting us arrested for impersonating police officers. You picked the wrong town to claim as your home base."

"Hey, I picked the most insignificant town possible. How was I supposed to know that a cop in another state knew the entire police force in the town I picked?"

Sam shook his head but his reply was lost as Trudy brought them steaming mugs of coffee.

"Thank you," Sam acknowledged, taking the hot mug and wrapping his fingers around it.

Dean nodded his thanks to Trudy before leaning forward to inhale the strong aroma. "Ahh, that's the stuff."

"Should I leave you two alone?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean shot his brother a withering glare.

Trudy smiled and went back behind the counter.

Sam took a cautious sip of coffee. Dean could say what he wanted, but if honesty was the best policy, then Sam would stick as close to it as possible.

The bacon and eggs had been quite good, and by the time the brothers had finished, the town had indeed come alive.

They left the car parked where it was and walked down the short main street. There was a car in front of the station and the main door was open to allow the morning breeze into the building.

Dean turned to Sam. "You coming to the sheriff's or going to see Susan Morris?" He allowed himself a moment of seriousness. "You know the police will handle it. They'll tell her what she needs to know."

"I'm going to talk to her," Sam replied. "I know the police would handle it, but something tells me she needs to hear it from us."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam always needed to complicate things. He shrugged. If that was the way Sam wanted it . . .

"Okay. I'm going to show the sheriff the location, then I'll swing back to pick you up. Shouldn't take too long, then we can blow this popsicle stand."

Sam nodded. "Sounds good."

With that, Sam turned and headed off towards Susan's house.

Dean shot a final look at his brother's retreating form before heading off toward the sheriff's office.

Deputy Sheriff Stuart Jones held the wallet aloft, staring at it intently. He opened it and flipped through it once again.

Dean bit back a sarcastic remark. Old Stuey was certainly taking his time.

The deputy sheriff appeared to be in his late thirties. He sported a crew cut and had the build of a man who had once taken great pride in his physical appearance, but had let it slide over the years. He was still muscular, but hints of a beer belly were beginning to show through his uniform.

Dean started to glance around the room. The little office was kept in a very tidy fashion. There were hardly any personal effects on either of the two desks that occupied the room.

Dean absently reached for the only picture on Jones' desk, only to have the deputy pull it out of his reach.

"You mean to tell me you found this while hiking in the woods?" Jones levelled his gaze to Dean.

Dean nodded and tried to look like a concerned citizen. The deputy just didn't seem to care. If Lawrence's body wasn't found, the ghostly manifestations could get more violent. They had to find his body.

Unfortunately, in this case, Dean had to acknowledge that Sam's close-to-the-truth policy might be the only thing that could convince the deputy to even drive out there.

"I heard that he's been missing for a long time," Dean stated innocently. "This could be a really important clue. Who knows? Maybe his body is in that grove somewhere. I really think you need to check it out."

Jones gave Dean a funny look before finally nodding. "Okay. If you're so intent on dragging me out there over a missing wallet, let's go. I'm not promising anything, though."

Dean nodded slowly. "That's fine, deputy. I just want to make sure something's done."

"I have to grab my gear," Jones sighed. "I'll meet you by my truck."

"Great." Dean knew his earnest expression was fading, quickly being replaced by one of disdain for the local law. He left the office, rolling his eyes once he'd turned away from Jones.

Jones watched Dean leave and shook his head. He'd just wanted a quiet day and now this. He picked up the phone on his desk. He had time to make a quick call before he left.

Sam was having much better luck with Susan Morris. He was currently sitting in her living room. Susan had dyed her hair a streaky blonde since the photo had been taken, but she was clearly the same woman.

She shook her head as she stared at the picture.

"I don't understand why he had this," she admitted. "I was never with him."

"Maybe he was just too nervous to tell you how he felt," Sam guessed. "I'm sorry if this is painful for you. From the picture, I really thought you were his girlfriend." He shrugged slightly, not really knowing what to say. "I don't know – I guess I thought that it might help knowing there was a clue out there that could indicate where he was. I didn't want to upset you."

"It's okay, Sam," Susan assured him. "I knew him, but I didn't love him. I thought he'd just run off when he disappeared. I guess everyone thought that. Do you really think he's in the woods somewhere?"

"I don't know," Sam replied evasively. "It's definitely possible."

More than possible, he thought dryly.

She put the picture on the table and sighed. "To tell you the truth, I never really thought about him much after he disappeared. It's horrible to think that he might have been out there all this time and no one cared."

Sam tried to force a smile to his face, but he failed. This was exactly what he had feared. He was giving upsetting news to someone who hadn't needed to hear it.

He glanced around, trying to figure out what to say next. His gaze fell on a picture of Susan with her arms wrapped around a smiling man. The pair looked happy and content.

"Is that your boyfriend?" Sam asked.

Susan glanced up. "Yes," she answered with a smile. "That's Stuart. He's my fiancé."

Sam grinned in response. "That's great! Congratulations."

"Thank you, Sam," Susan replied. "Can I get you a drink?"

Sam was going to refuse, but remembered Dean was going to be gone for awhile. He may as well kill some time here. He could always ask about the wedding plans. That would definitely keep a conversation rolling. He'd talk about anything as long as it wasn't Frank Lawrence.

"That'd be great," he answered.

Susan opened her mouth to ask what he would like, but was cut off as the phone rang. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" she asked before heading into the kitchen to answer it.

Sam sat quietly until he heard Susan answer the phone with a cheerful, "Hi, baby!"

Realising he didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, Sam rose to his feet and walked to the window. He hummed softly to himself, but could still hear when Susan's tone hardened. It sounded like a fight, though Susan was clearly trying to keep it unnoticeable to her guest.

Sam could understand that. He wandered over to the mantle and studied the pictures lined up along it. There were pictures of Susan with an older man; most likely her father. There was another of a woman who looked a great deal like Susan. Sam surmised it was her mother.

There was another picture of Susan with her fiancé. Something caught Sam's eye and he picked the framed image up to see it more clearly.

Susan's fiancé was wearing a badge.

He looked at the other picture of Susan and her fiancé. The man was wearing a badge in that photo as well. Sam frowned. Why was the sheriff calling home to fight with his fiancée when he was supposed to be going to the grove with Dean?

The sound of footsteps behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

Sam hadn't heard Susan finish her conversation. He turned to face her but any greeting he might have said died before it left his lips.

She was pointing a gun at him.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said softly. "Apparently your brother is at the office and is pretty insistent someone investigate that grove. We can't have that."

Sam stepped back slightly, holding his hands out to his sides in an unthreatening manner. "We?" Sam questioned. "What's going on?"

Susan shook her head. "He didn't mean to do it. He was drunk and Frank had been bothering me. He was just trying to protect me."

"The sheriff killed Frank Lawrence?" Sam said in disbelief. And Dean was with him . . . He lowered his hands, now more concerned with getting to his brother than keeping Susan calm.

Susan's eyes hardened. "We have to go."

"Go where?"

"Stuart's taking your brother to the grove. We're going to meet them there."

Sam felt his muscles tense. "Then what?"

Susan bit her bottom lip. "We can't have anyone asking questions. Stuart and I have too much to lose. I'm sorry."

Susan seemed to shake off her momentary weakness and her expression hardened once again. She took a step back, ensuring that she was far enough away to shoot Sam before he could reach her if he tried to disarm her. She tossed a pair of handcuffs to Sam, who caught them instinctively.

"Put those on and don't try anything," Susan warned. "Stuart taught me how to shoot and I'm pretty good at it."

"Someone will hear the gunshot if you shoot me," Sam pointed out.

"I'll tell them you attacked me," Susan replied easily. "These people know me. They'll believe me."

Sam didn't move.

"I can do this here, or at the grove," Susan warned. "It makes no difference to me."

It made a lot of difference to Sam, however. Dean was heading out to the grove, unaware that he was with the very man responsible for Frank Lawrence's death. He didn't have too much of a choice.

Susan frowned and adjusted her grip on the gun. "I'm not a very patient person," she warned.

Sam slowly complied, fastening a cuff around his wrist, but leaving it just loose enough that he could slip out of it.

"Behind your back," Susan instructed, watching him closely.

When Sam had followed her orders, Susan approached cautiously. She pointed the gun at Sam's head and reached out to tighten the cuffs.

Sam swore under his breath. "Your fiancé is going to kill two innocent people to save his own skin. He's already killed a man. Is he worth all this?"

Susan stepped back. "Stuart didn't want to kill Frank. He just drank too much one night and he'd had enough of Frank hitting on me. That was before he was a deputy. He's sober now."

"A model citizen," Sam muttered sarcastically.

"He's a good man and he loves me," Susan stated firmly. "He just made a mistake."

"He's about to make another one," Sam insisted, hoping Susan would listen to reason.

His hopes were dashed with her soft reply.

"No one will ever know."