Chapter Six- Another Death and A Warning

Tate stood straight backed in the rain, her eyes locking on the gray head stone below her. Large tears mingled in with the heavy drops that already covered her face. People didn't need to see her cry, even though they were too. Her father stood several feet away from her, leaning against the black limo that would take the two of them, plus the three Winchesters back to Tate's aunt Sophia's house where the reception for Garrett's funeral was being held. Her black pea coat and skirt were soaked through, even her dark purple shirt underneath clung to her skin; but nothing seemed to bother her. She felt nothing, well she felt something, it was emptiness. Half of her was gone, her best friend, her partner in crime, was gone and all she had left of him was the look on his face in the rear view mirror as the Ram Charger went over the bridge.

"Tate?" Hearing Dean's voice, Tate whipped around, her wet auburn braid cracking against her already numb face and for the first time in a week, her lavender eyes were blazing.

"I told you I didn't want to see you ever again." She yelled, her voice echoing off the rain

"I just came to see if you were okay." He said as he came toward her and tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

"Leave me alone." She breezed past Dean and her father, sliding into the car. Her wet clothes slipped off the leather in the limo, but she didn't care, she didn't want to be there anyways. Moments later, Ben came in next to her and attempted to do what Dean had tried to do and succeeded.

"Don't be like that to him Tate. He cares about you."

"Its his fault dad, he was driving."

"Baby girl, just because he was driving doesn't make it Dean's fault."

"He is the reason you have one child. Aren't you just a little pissed off at him?"

"It was a car accident, an accident."

"Whatever dad."

Tate woke up to the sun streaming in through the window across the room, the warm gold rays hitting her coverless body. It was earlier than she expected to be awake, only nine o'clock west coast time. That made it twelve in Boston, meaning she'd have to check in with her office soon. Stretching in the cheap hotel bed, she realized that she was still in her clothes from the day before and felt her upper lip curl; she hated sleeping in jeans. Hearing soft snores coming from her left, she turned to find Sam dead to the world in the other bed. All she could see of the younger Winchester was his mop of shaggy brown locks. So, if she was in one bed and Sam was in the other, where was Dean? From where she sat she could clearly see the Impala and his boots were on the floor, so where did he sleep? Seeing a familiar lump on the too small love seat, she watched as Dean's chest rose and fell as he slept on the very uncomfortable couch. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed the blanket that she had used during the night and tip toed over to the chair. Standing over Dean, she looked down at his handsome face and sighed, being around him was harder than she thought. Draping the blanket over him, she brushed her hand across his face and cupped his cheek, watching him move into the touch. As she stood back up and was about to back away from him, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.

"Hey." Dean rasped his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning. Why did you sleep here and let me have the bed?" He didn't give her a solid answer, just shrugged and gave her that lazy smile that still made her go weak in the knees.

"I just did, you passed out and looked so…I dunno, peaceful. I didn't want you to sleep on this piece of shit."

"So you decided to put your back through hell for me, how sweet."

"Well, you know me." He said as his smile grew wider and Tate swore the ground was beginning to come more into focus; her knees were too close to turning to mush.

"Get up." She said forcefully, her hands on her hips.

"Why?"

"I'm gonna go get something for breakfast and you're going to move over to the bed." Tate watched his eyes, knowing she'd know what he was thinking about it and he was taking his time on purpose.

"Fine, help me up. You're right, my back is in knots." He told her as he stuck out a hand. Rolling her eyes, Tate wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist, her thumb resting right over his pulse, the pad of her finger rubbing over the small dip there and with a wicked smile helped him up. As she pulled back, she lost her footing and out of instinct, Dean pulled her into him. Bare chest and well worn cotton crushed together and an excited gasped slipped past Tate's lips. Avoiding Dean and what happened to the two of them was getting too hard for her. With shaky hands, she splayed her fingers apart on his bare shoulders and pushed herself away from him.

"Go lay down, I'll get changed real quick and then go find bagels or something." She whispered as she finally backed away from him and hurried over to her duffle bag. As Dean made himself comfortable in bed, he kept his jade colored eyes locked on Tate's blurring form and watched her run from one side of the room to the bathroom; slamming the door behind her and locked it. She came out twenty minutes later, wearing clean clothes and with a long ponytail at the base of her neck. Before walking back into the main part of the room, she looked around the corner and saw that both Winchesters were asleep and slowly moved from her hiding place. Grabbing some money and Dean's car keys, she ran from the room and gracefully slid behind the wheel of the Impala.

As she rode into the brochure perfect college town, she listened to the last guitar riff of an AC/DC song and sighed. She needed to focus back on why she was really there, she had only been on the west coast one day and Dean was already all the way under her skin again. Shaking her head, she guided the sleek black car into the small parking lot outside a college coffee shop and headed in, the guitar solo still buzzing in her head; reminding her of Dean. Walking inside Tate saw the place was filled with students, sipping coffees, nibbling on whatever pastry was being sold and gossiping about something. Stepping behind some one in line, she looked around and sighed. This was normal and what Dean had pulled Sam from. Closing her eyes she focused on some of the mindless gossip around her and heard something behind her.

"Did you hear about Kyle McKenna?" Turning around, Tate found a blonde and a redhead standing there, each wearing something with the letters S.F.A.I on it.

"No, what happened?" The redhead asked, obliviously not fully in the loop about the latest his said she said.

"I heard from Brandon that they found him in one of the Chem. labs, all shriveled up like Lauren."

"No shit! It happened again?"

"Yeah in Professor Summers' class, G Lab, she found him early this morning. They had to call Professor Bowen over and ask him if that's what Lauren looked like."

"Oh my God, that's horrible. I feel so bad for Professor Bowen. Kelly, move up. That girl in front of you took off." The redhead said as Tate pushed open the door to café and got back in the Impala. Breakfast could wait, another kid had died. Weaving through steady morning traffic, Tate made it back to the college in record time, parked in the visitor's lot and grabbed her camera bag before she fled the car. Walking toward the building with a purpose, she went the same way she had gone the night before when she came to see Carl Bowen and threw herself in with the crowds of students milling around. Every time she passed a group or just two friends, she heard gossip about this McKenna boy. Walking down the hallway where Bowen's classroom was, she saw him talking to a few other professors and when he looked up, he saw the younger woman. He mouthed for her to come over and that it was okay. Stepping toward the circle of who she guessed were his colleagues, she smiled and coughed enough to get their attention.

"Carl, I think you have a student who wants to speak with you." The only woman there said; she looked to be around her late forties with graying brown hair and warm eyes. She was an art teacher all right; Tate got that from her right away.

"Oh no, this isn't a student. This is Miss Tatum King, she's a photo journalist and is the one covering the case on all of these deaths. Tate this is Brian O'Hare, Paula Michaels, Mark DeLorrie, some of my fellow art teachers." Tate's smile grew wider and shook each of their hands.

"Its nice to meet you all and just as Professor Bowen said, I'm covering this whole case; did any of you know Mr. McKenna?"

"I had him when he was a freshman, wonderful young man. Had a real eye for art, a good painter." Professor Michaels said, pushing her tortoise shell glasses up onto her head.

"Professor Bowen, did you have him as a student?" Tate asked, wishing she had her note pad to write all this down and bring it back to Sam.

"No, but he was apart of the school's newspaper. Why do you ask?" Bowen asked, not really liking where Tate was taking this. Was she blaming him for the deaths? Did she know about what happened to him nearly two decades ago?

"I asked because all of the victims were photographers and up until now, female. Does anyone know who runs the paper?" She asked, digging into her camera bag and nearly let out a yelp when she found a slip of paper, of course, receipt for film.

"Shauna Monroe, she graduated two years ago, but came back to run the paper. She was one of my students," O'Hare mentioned and then continued. "She has an office in the main building, near guidance. I can take you there if you want."

"Thank you Mr. O'Hare, but I can find it and I need to talk to this Professor Summers before I do anymore." She said, smiling warmly. "I have to get going Professor Bowen; it was nice meeting you all. Professor, if I need anything, anymore information, I'll stop by." She said as she left and went back the way she came. On her way to the main building, she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket, let out a squeak and pulled it out; Dean's number flashing across the caller I.D.

"Hello?" She asked, pushing open the doors to the art wing and cutting across the same gardens she had cut across with Sam and hurried to the main building.

"Where the hell are you? You left an hour ago."

"Dean, something came up. Put Sammy on the phone."

"Tell me what happened."

"Put your brother on the phone or I'm not coming home with your car." Hearing a huff and a few muddled curses, she knew he handed the Sam the phone and waited.

"Tate what's up?"

"There was another death, a guy this time, found him just like the Mills chick but in a Chem. lab."

"What? A guy in a chemistry class? How is that connected?"

"Photographer for the school paper. I'm going to talk to the girl who runs the paper, maybe get some more on the kid and then I'm gonna try and sneak up to this lab. I have my press pass, I might get through."

"Gimmie a call when you get more. What's the kid's name?"

"Kyle McKenna."

"Thanks. And Dean says don't hurt the car."

"I'll crash it, love ya Sammy."

"Bye Ta." Hearing her old nickname made her smile as she put her phone away and came to the room marked 'S.F.A.I newsroom.' Knocking on the door, she waited and then saw a younger woman with red eyes pulled the door inward.

"Can I help you?" She asked, sniffing and blotting the corner of her eyes.

"Shauna Monroe?"

"That's me."

"I'm Tatum King of the Boston Herald; I'm covering the case on all of these mysterious deaths. I was told you knew Mr. McKenna."

"Yes, he was my photographer and my little sister's boyfriend. Are you here to ask me questions?"

"Yes I am, I need some more information on what happened and Mr. McKenna, would you mind?"

"No come on in." She said walking in first and leaving the door open for Tate. As Tate walked in, an odd breeze blew past her, ruffling her hair and causing it to fly all over the place.

"Is there a window open?"

"No Miss King, there isn't. Why? Would you like me to open it?" Shauna looked at her for a moment, cocking her head to the side.

"No, no thank you." Looking over her shoulder, Tate felt the breeze again and swore something had a strong grip on her wrist. She didn't like this at all, every instinct she had was screaming get Sam and Dean.

"You're friends won't be able to help you now Tatum. They won't hear you scream when I get a hold of you." Spinning around, Tate's eyes darted everywhere, but found nothing.

"Miss King are you all right?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She asked, obviously confused.

"That voice?"

"No, are you all right? Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, please."

"Let me go get it, its in the teacher's lounge. Have a seat." As Shauna left the room and Tate sat down, the breeze kicked back up and wrapped itself completely around her. The cold lashing at her skin, biting her cheeks and making her eyes water. A scream worked its way up her throat, but she couldn't move her lips to let it out.

"Just wait till you're truly alone and then you'll see what I can do."