This chapter isn't as long as the last ones, but I think it can hold its own. So keep reading and reviewing and I'll keep trying to update as often as time and ideas allow. :)

Chapter 9- Broken Souls

"I'm sick of this shit Dean! Stop trying to convince me to stay here!" Tate yelled, her voice blending in with the thunder that seemed to be clapping for her last ditch effort of bravery to fight off Dean and his promises of making things right if she stayed. All of her things, minus her hunting things, had been shipped from Memphis to Boston weeks before and whatever wasn't shipped was tucked away in the back of her 1969 Ford Mustang.

"I want you to stay! Is there something wrong with wanting my girlfriend to stay with me?"

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore! I haven't been for a long time! Stop calling me that and let me go!" She didn't mean to stop holding onto her hand, she meant stop holding onto the idea of her being there for the rest of forever. Rain rolled down off her face, came down in small rivers off her leather jacket and a streak of lighting lit up only half of her face, only one eye reflected the anger, loss and love she had directed at Dean, only one cheek that showed the current of black mascara trickling down it and one side of two trembling lips. "I want you to forget me!" She shrieked at him, sounding more like a banshee than the beautiful girl who was crushing his heart.

"I don't think I'll be able to Tatum." He told her as he closed the gap between them and pulled her soaking wet body into his and wrapped his arms tightly around her; one hand placed on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head, keeping her in place.

"Dean please let me go. Let me go, let me go." She chanted and prayed that his fingers would untangle from her wet hair. He did let her go; just enough so he could lean down and catch her lips one last time. Tate felt herself melting into him and the idea of staying with him and making things right as he said began to look tempting, but she couldn't do it. A low growl vibrated in her throat and with a fierce shove, she pushed back off of him and pushed him forward. As she took a step back and watched Dean stumble over his own feet, landing hard on the muddy mess that had become the King's driveway, she gave him one last look and then ducked into her car. The last time she saw Dean, at the age of twenty two, was him sitting in her driveway, covered in mud from the waist down, his hands covered in the thick goop and buried his face into his palms, leaving behind muddy marks that would forever remind him of Tate.

Tate's eyes snapped open as Dean's fingers skirted over her face, coming down to her jaw line and resting there, his fingers only inches away from where their lips still met.

"Dean..." She mumbled against his lips, trying to pry him away. "Dean, Dean!" She yelled and almost, like in the small flashback that ran across her shut eye lids, went to push him back into the Impala. But she didn't need to; he pulled away by himself and looked down at her.

"What Tate?"

"Stop, we can't do this."

"Why not?"

"Because...we just can't. Not yet anyways. Dean, we still have a lot of things to take care of; not just between the two of us, but with this ghost. Just not now, so stop it okay?" She asked, playing with the collar of his shirt, only to have her fingers brushed away and Dean spin on his heel.

"Okay, fine, whatever." He said as he pulled out the keys and stalked over to the Impala. The bile began to rise in Tate's throat, all she had done was told him to wait, that's all, nothing more and now he was pissed.

"Where are you going?" She yelled, her hands on her hips and an eye brow cocked

"Out to get something to eat, I'll be back...later." He told her as he slipped into the car and turned the engine on.

"Dean!" She called but was drowned out by the sound of Black Sabbath and the roaring engine. Flipping off the disappearing car, she turned her back on him and headed into the hotel room where Sam sat on one of the beds with the laptop resting on his thighs.

"Where's Dean?"

"Took off and please, do not ask what happened."

"I won't." Sam said, a smile tugging on his lips.

"I'm not your brother so I'll let you get away with that little evil grin, this time." She told him as she folded her leg on the bedspread and sat behind him. "So what's so interesting?" She asked, placing her chin on his shoulder and looked down at the screen.

"Well, this Tracy Allerdyce woman was murdered, a drive-by shooting back in the seventies, and she was a reporter, a damn good one. She won all kinds of journalism awards and crap like that. Very well known. The night she died, she was coming back from covering a case with her photographer and they were heading to get something to eat. As the two went to cross traffic, two cars drive by with two men shooting out the front windows. Long story short, Tracy was in the wrong place at the wrong time, she got caught in the cross fire. Her photographer saw the cars coming and ran toward the diner, leaving her there. He never came back for her."

"Okay, she wants revenge, she basically told me that back at the college, but why is she stealing other peoples...souls I guess, to reconstitute herself? She's a ghost; can't she just kill whoever this partner is?"

"I don't know, maybe she needs to become whole again to kill him, to take the life away from others like he took from her, even though he wasn't the one that took it away."

"But he was the one that took away her chance to live, to keep her soul so to speak. So who was her photographer?" She asked as Sam scrolled down on the page he had been reading.

"Oh my God, it explains the last two deaths."

"Sam, who is it?"

"Her photographer was Professor Carl Bowen." Tate looked at him, her eyes wide and it seemed as if pieces of this 'mystery' so to speak were being put together. As she went to say something more to Sam about the 'good professor' the familiar sound of her ringer went off and she lunged for her back pocket. Flipping it open and hitting the talk button she brought the small silver phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Miss King? This is Shauna Monroe from the college."

"Oh hi Shauna. What's up?"

"I talked to Professor Summers and she said she could meet you for lunch at this small coffee shop off campus." Tate smiled and looked at Sam.

"Thanks, perfect timing."