A/N: Yeah, so done with that discalimer. I'm getting really into this, haha. I hope you guys are still with me. In fact, if I don't get 30 reviews by tomorrow, I'll just stop writing!

Not really... I think I'd actually keel over if that happened. ANd I promise not to hold the story hostage. Just let me know if you're still enjoying it, and let me know even more if you aren't!

---

"What do we do?" Sam asked, watching his brother pace.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, running a hand through his still wet hair.

After his shower, Dean had retrieved his clean clothes and immediately they locked himself in his room, trying to figure out what was going on, and what their next step would be.

Dean was torn between his desire to figure out just what the hell was happening, and his desire to say screw it, pack up, and go. In the end, he knew he wouldn't run. He wasn't that kind of person, even if there didn't seem to be an answer, he'd be in it till the end trying to find one.

Even Sam, the brains of the duo, had no ideas. A banshee screaming, the discovery of a backyard cemetery their hostess may or may not know about...it was a whole lot of somethings leading nowhere.

"Let's look at our options," Sam said.

"What options?" Dean snorted, still pacing at the door, a damp towel around his neck. "We can't ask them about what we found."

"Well, we could," Sam tried tentatively.

"Yeah, right," Dean said, stopping to look at him. "Have you guys noticed the mass graves in your back yard? Happen to kill anyone recently?"

Sam frowned. "Okay, you have a point."

"Fine, I have a point. Now, do you have any ideas, college boy?" Dean asked, resuming his pacing.

Sam thought for a moment, but came up with nothing.

"If we don't find anything tonight," he said a moment later. "Are we still going to leave?"

Dean sighed. "I don't see how we can. I don't know how we could walk away with that on our shoulders. We need more information."

Sam looked forlornly to the . "Something tells me these guys don't have an internet connection."

"So how do we find out what we need to know?" Dean mused.

"Library!" Sam said suddenly, the idea dawning on him. "If they don't have a computer there, at least they'll have records. We need to find out if that's a registered cemetery before we go off half-cocked."

Dan raised a brow. "I never go anywhere half-cocked."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just get the car keys."

"Music to my ears."

---

The town library was a tiny building a few miles down the road from the Davis Bed and Breakfast. The one story spread was long and narrow, holding dozens of shelves stuffed with dusty books. It was the kind of place that didn't seem like they would have any books from the past decade, but as Sam hoped, there was a small computer station in the middle of the shelves. Two newer model computers were places back to back, powered up and set to the library's homepage.

"Score," Dean remarked as Sam slid into one chair.

His brother went immediately to Google as Dean dragged a chair up to the computer, eliciting a cough and a glare from the librarian, an elderly lady with a scowl permanently affixed to her face. She glared at him over her large square glasses, and Dean gave her a cheerful wave before he settled into the chair, watching his brother work.

"I figure we can try this first, and if we don't find anything, we can look for local history and stuff," Sam said as his fingers danced across the keys.

"What are you lookin' for?" his brother asked, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

"Cemeteries?" Sam asked, looking thoughtful. "I dunno, really. I'm just hoping I get lucky."

He scrolled down the first page, clicking on this and that, and Dean found himself quickly growing bored.

"Let me know if you have any luck," Dean said, pushing back his chair.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm gonna do my own research," Dean replied evenly.

Sam watched him go. "Whatever."

Dean walked up to the librarian, who watching him approach cautiously.

"Can I help you?" she asked guardedly.

Dean leaned against the counter, putting on his best smile. "Yeah, I had a question I was hoping you could answer. You look like you'd know about everything going on here."

A small compliment, but it got her to stand up straighter and adjust her glasses.

"Well, yes."

"Good. I have a bit of a problem." Dean jerked his thumb to indicate Sam at the computer. "My kid brother and were taking a road trip, and, well, our family dog, he was real old. We had the vet take a look at him, but there was nothing he could do. He's been with us forever, we don't really want to cremate him...I know it's a small town, but you guys wouldn't happen to have a pet cemetery, would you?"

The woman frowned slightly, "Oh, no, no, we don't. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Dean said, shrugging. "It was a long shot, I just wanted to make sure. Thanks anyway."

The woman nodded and went back to her tasks at the desk, and Dean walked away, crossing that off his mental list. Unless the Davis's, or whoever had made those crosses, had bad luck with pets, and lots of it, there was something more sinister about that graveyard.

He walked back to the shelves of books, trailing his fingers along the spines. Going off Sam's tip, he looked for a section on local stuff.

There was a small section towards the back about the town's history, but the few books there offered nothing. He skimmed through a few just to be sure, but even if he knew what he was looking for, his gut told him he wasn't going to find it here.

Wandering back over to the computers, he saw Sam completely engrossed in the contents of the screen.

"What've you got?" he asked, reclaiming his spot.

"Nothing, at first," Sam said. "There's three cemeteries here, all small, but all located within the town itself. Nothing about any in the woods."

"It ain't for Fluffy, either," Dean said. "I checked. No pet cemeteries."

Sam nodded. "I tried looking for anything involving woods and graves. Nothing. So then I tried searching for missing persons or murders, but nothing. This town's record is spotless. Nothing's gone on here, at least, nothing that's been reported."

"Another dead end," Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"I looked up banshees, too," Sam said. "More of the same old thing."

Dean slammed his hand on the arm of the chair. "Dammit, Sam. We can't catch a break here."

Sam closed the browser and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know where to go from here, Dean."

H knew the look on his brother's face matched his own, frustration and anger at being so helpless.

"We'll figure this out. We will."

He laced his voice with confidence, but deep down, he was starting to question it.

What were they going to do?