In the next two chapters, I'm gonna explain what this "Accident" is. It was a really big deal for Tate, tore her and Dean apart and was the reason she moved. I'm still working all the little details out, but I think it's going to be good. So keep the reviews coming Bright Eyez

Chapter 4-More Pictures

Tatum sat sideways in the front passenger's seat of the Impala, her feet resting on the asphalt below and a black eye liner pencil in her hand. She had been sitting there for a few minutes, redoing her make-up and fixing her hair; pulling it out of its braid and letting the long auburn waves to fall down her back. She kept both eyes on her reflection and her ears on the normal brother-bickering going on outside by the hood of the car. Sam and Dean had been going back and forth, snipping at each other as one decided which excuse to use so they could get into the college to see Professor Bowen. Dean had thrown out the idea of pretending to be students, but Sam quickly vetoed that one and then in turn, Sam's idea about being art critiques was shot down. As Tate capped her mascara and tossed it back into her purse, she dug out her newspaper ID and leaned over to the driver's seat. Honking the horn, she giggled when the two jumped and then laughed harder when Dean flipped her off.

"Was there are reason for that?" He yelled loud enough so she could hear him.

"Yeah, I know how we can get in." She said as she got of the car, grabbing her camera bag and equipment from the back seat.

"How?"

"Just follow my lead Dean and don't screw it up. Keep your mouth shut and don't ask any questions." She told him as she shoved her tripod into his chest and handed Sam the camera bag. "Drop the tripod Dean and I'll kill you."

A minute later the trio walked into the front entrance, Tate's press pass dangling around her neck and a warm smile on her lips. With two powerful strides, she stood in front of the receptionist sitting behind a wooden counter and dropped her purse down onto the polished surface. The woman behind the desk was an older woman thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo and had an overly bored looked on her face. She was probably pulling the late shift and wanted nothing more than to go home, knowing college Tate thought, the night classes didn't end till at least nine. The woman still had another hour or so.

"Can I help you Miss?" The woman asked, she sounded bored.

"Yes. My name is Tatum King, I work for the Boston Herald. I write the local art column out there and usually do a piece on the Department Chair Person in a near by art school. Since taking on the Art Institute of New England, my editor has been sending me to the A.I.N.E's sister schools and your school happens to be my latest assignment. Now, I heard from my boss that Professor Carl Bowen in the head of the art department, is there anyway I can speak to him tonight?" She asked sweetly. The woman now starting thumbing through an appointment booking, showing Tate there Professor Bowen was free for about an hour and pointed her toward the art building.

Dean stood behind her and watched with a smile as she fell right back into old schemes, it was if he was watching a movie. Tate's voice never gave away the fact that she was lying, even thought her lie wasn't a far stretch from the truth. She had interviewed the department chair person at the New England school; even though he'd never tell her that he read the article. He read her column every Saturday morning, when Friday's paper was finally posted on the internet. She didn't have to know that he had printed out her column about going to Paris to see the Mona Lisa and now had it folded into a small square in his wallet, right behind his real ID. Tate's voice pulled him back to reality.

"Hey! Dean are you gonna stand there all night!" Tate yelled from the side door, Sam next to her holding it open.

The two had decided to cut across the courtyard to get to the art buildings while Dean was starring off into space. When Dean met up with them, Tate grabbed him by the hand and somewhat dragged him across the narrow stretch of grass that was littered with picnic tables. From the look on her face, it was as if she didn't even realize she had hold of his hand and didn't seem to notice Dean jump when her heavy silver thumb ring grazed his knuckles. When they got to the art building, she let go and raced up the steps, trotting down the hall muttering room numbers as she passed each door while the boys paused in the arched entrance.

"She scares me sometimes, always throwing herself into whatever she's doing." Sam mumbled.

"It's like nothing changed." Dean added as his little brother looked at him and smirked.

"I saw her grab your hand, you flinched."

"I did not! That damn ring she wears hit my fingers…"

"Whatever Dean." Sam said as he rolled his eyes and went to catch up to Tate. Tatum had disappeared into a classroom; her camera that was attached to a black leather strap slung over her shoulder and knocked on the door. Professor Bowen's head snapped up at the noise in his silent classroom and looked at the young woman in the doorway. She wasn't one of his students, but the press pass dangling around her neck gave her away.

"I don't know what Linda said to you, but I'm not talking to any more reporters." He said shortly and then went back to his work.

"Please Professor Bowen, just a few minutes of your time." Sam said coming up behind her.

"Ah, her loyal crew. All right, since you're all here you might as well come in." The professor ushered the three of them in, taking Tate's thin denim jacket and hanging it on the back of a student's desk. "I take it you're all here about Lauren's death."

"Yes sir we are. Can I just ask you a few questions?"

"Be my guest Miss…?"

"Tate King, these are my friends Sam and Dean." The professor nodded at the boys and shook Tate's hand.

"Did anything odd happen that afternoon?" Tate asked, but a prickling sensation on her shoulder caused her head to whip around at the familiar presence of something behind her, but only found Dean standing there; his arms crossed over her chest. Biting her lip, she turned her attention back to the professor.

"Nothing odd until Lauren showed up."

"What happened?" Dean asked, coming into the conversation for the first time. The professor recounted the young woman's entrance to his class and then told them about the door slamming.

"At first I thought Miss Mills pulled it shut rather too hard, the door sticks sometimes and I've been known to slam it, but this wasn't an ordinary slam. It sounded as if the wind did it. So I got up and went to see what was going on. The moment I tried to open the door, I swear on my mother's life, it locked itself from the inside. The only way to lock the door is with my keys, there's no hand turning lock anywhere on the door. I was standing there trying to get inside and then I heard Miss Mills' scream. When I finally got the door open it was too late. As I looked around the room, I found her body on the ground." He ended softly, toying with a stray thread on the hem of his dress sleeve. Tate looked to Sam, a question in her eyes and by habit, Sam knew what it was.

"Professor Bowen, would it be all right if Tate and Dean have a look in the dark room?" Sam asked him, taking a seat in one of the desks in front of his podium.

"No go right ahead. I trust you know your way around in a dark room Miss King?"

"I've been in one a time or two. Come on De." Tate knew that while her and Dean were sent to investigate the dark room, Sam would be outside asking the professor more questions. As she pushed open the dark room door, she felt something prick her shoulder again, but paid it no attention and headed in, Dean right behind her. Flipping on the white light, she saw that police tape still lined the area where Lauren's body had been found and Dean paid no attention to the yellow barrier. He was right in there where the outline of her body was.

"Dean! Get away from there!" She hissed as she walked over to an enlarger where a negative sheet still sat. Picking the sheet up and putting it in front of the light, she saw that the sheet was full of beach scenes; this must have been the last thing Lauren worked on.

"Aww Tate, calm down. Hey what's this?" Standing on her tip toes, Tate did have still had a shred of respect for the boundary the police put up and watched as Dean crawled under the large picture wash and pulled out a sheet of photo paper.

"Let me see, it's a picture." Taking the piece of paper from him, she dropped it into the chemicals and watched as a young man surfing appeared.

"It's nothing, just a guy."

"Well what about these?" He asked, handing her a couple more sheets of somewhat dirty photo paper.

"I have no idea, toss them in the developer too." She said as she rested her hand against the lip of the counter and watched the pictures begin to take shape.

Feeling warmth behind her, Dean had taking the position behind her, his hands almost on top of hers and his chin resting perfectly her shoulder. They fit together as if two pieces of a puzzle, yet they were both too stubborn and proud to admit they were great together. Something about having him there made Tate feel safe and as if she had gone back to being eighteen again when everything between the two of them never existed.Where the 'accident' never existed. The tension in her body seemed to ebb away and slowly, she allowed herself to lean back against his chest, her head placed right under his chin. If anyone dared to open that door, all they would see was a happy couple watching pictures, maybe of their last trip together, coming out. But that really wasn't there, all that was there was two souls fighting their minds and making themselves believe that the hatred they had yelled at each other was true.

"Look, there's something there." Dean whispered into her ear, trying not to ruin the moment. But the second a shape fully showed itself on the paper, Tate jumped from her place against his chest, a sigh slipping from Dean's lips as she stood up straight, and looked down at the liquid covered paper. Watching the lights and darks separate themselves, she saw a warped shape appear

"Claws? Dean, do you see this?" She asked as he stood back against her, looking down at the pictures.

"Yeah I do, what do you think it is?"

"A ghost maybe?"

"Pissed off ghost you mean." Turning around in his arms, only inches from his lips, she looked up at him and sighed. Any other time, she would've given in and kissed him, but this was business no matter how she felt.

"So do you think this is what killed those girls?" She asked, her voice wavering a bit.

"Must be." He said as the door swung open and Tate jumped into his arms. Hearing Sam laughing, Tate felt her face burn and quickly went back to the pictures.

"What's going on in here?" Sam asked, trying to hide his grin.

"Nothing Sammy! We're working!" Dean shouted, scrubbing his face with his hands and walked to the other side of the room, putting a good distance between him and Tate.

"Oh, that's not what it looked like."

"Sam, I swear to God."

"Knock it off you guys, Sam look at this." Tate said, breaking up yet another fight and handing Sam the pictures.

"Demon?" He asked, arching an eye brow.

"Maybe, but could we get something to eat, I'm starving." She said, putting the pictures away and walking out of the dark room. Dean's eyes followed her and Sam laughed.

"Shut up."