Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or Supernatural. They belong to the WB and far more talented people than me. But goddess I wish I did own them. The only thing that's mine is Lacey and believe me, she wishes she weren't.

Yes, Lacey's back.

I'd also like to give a big shout out and thanks to Weirdbard, because dude, you rock and you know you give me evil plot bunnies and help out tons. This probably wouldn't be nearly as amusing, for me anyway, without your input and random thoughts.

Part 8: Beautiful Day

I could have stayed in the motel. I could have run for student council president back in high school. I would have lost, but the idea is that I could have. I could have done a lot of things.

So why in God's name was I wandering the campus of the local college?

The boys weren't the only ones who could do research. All but one of the victims had been enrolled in Dhalehurst University. If you asked me, and you didn't, this was a waste of time. If a girl died here once a year, and this year's victim was already a corpsicle (only without the frozen foods section), then the pattern was done. The thing in question more than likely would stay dormant for another year. Right?

I absently tugged on the cuff of my blouse as I perused the campus. I even got a few looks from people. Why, I had no clue.

"Hey, gorgeous, how's it going?" Someone called out in my direction. I arched an eyebrow and glanced over at the caller. It was a mere trio of guys. Kind of cute if you liked the whole jock thing. What looked like the leader walked over with a flirtatious smile. He ran his hand through his slightly tousled blond hair. "You look a little lost."

I still hadn't quite grasped the fact that he was talking to me. Gorgeous and me do not go in the same sentence. (Though one of my friends had kindly pointed out that it was mostly due to my attitude.) Maybe this guy was blind. Maybe it was a dare. Meh. I could have pretended to flirt back, but that wasn't going to happen. I don't flirt. Ever. The end. Instead, I frowned slightly and tried to look confused. "Actually, I think I am. I just got into town today. I came here to visit a friend of mine. Her name is Marissa Traverse. Do you know her by any chance?"

The guy's smile faltered instantly. I guess mentioning the name of the resident dead girl would burst anyone's desire to flirt. Unless you're Dean, but that guy had a resolve like no other. It was almost admirable. I pulled out all the stops in my acting resume, which really wasn't much. "What is it? Did I say something wrong? Did you date her or something?"

Jock number one shuffled his feet and cast a worried look toward his buddies before turning back to me. "You haven't heard.. Um.. I'm really sorry to tell you this, really.. But…"

"But what?" Throw in a worried look to go with that that well of confusion, girl. "Please, tell me. What's going on?"

"They found her dead this morning. It's been all over campus." He swallowed nervously as he watched my reaction. "Look, I'm real sorry."

I covered my mouth with my hands and let out a horrified gasp. "But.. No! I just spoke to her the other day! How did it happen?"

"I don't know. Look, I'm sorry. But we've got to go. Practice and all." He looked pretty shamefaced, but extremely relieved at thinking of an excuse to bail on me. Real nice guy. "I'm sorry." He quickly ran off in he opposite direction with his little buddies in tow, leaving me, the supposedly grief stricken friend, all alone.

What a prick.

I was tempted to flip him off, but the not quite familiar sound of 'Carry On My Wayward Son' by Kansas interrupted the urge. I still wasn't use to that on my phone. I sighed and plucked my phone out of my pocket. "Lacey's House of Whores, how may I direct your call?"

"So that's how you earn a living." Dean replied. I could practically hear the smirk on his face. Well, if you could hear that. But you could visualize it. Totally. Not that I was. I was too tired to try.

"It beats delivering pizza." I muttered as I started walking again. "What did I do now?"

"I thought I told you to stay back at the motel." Ooh. He was getting growly on me again.

"Who says I'm not there?"

"I'm standing in your room and unless you're invisible, you're not here."

"My ro.. What did you do, pick the lock?" I should have known. "Haven't you ever heard of privacy?"

"I gave you an order." Dean stopped. I wonder if he realized that he sounded like his father. "Where are you?"

I looked around. "I'm wandering around the college campus trying to find some guys to do my bidding. I feel the desire to go to a kegger and have a drunken one night stand with the entire football team."

"If that's what you wanted, all you had to do was ask. A football team has nothing on me." He sounded pretty smug and I rolled my eyes. "Stay where you are. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"What about Sam?" Yes, what about him? Why can't I hang out with him? Could I adopt him? Because he was what I wanted in a little brother. Only he was taller.

"He's checking some things out at the library. We'll go get him after I drag your ass back here."

I sighed. "Fine, whatever. Look, I'll wait for you outside the administration building." I turned my phone off without waiting for his reply. It wasn't that I wanted to piss him off this time. I just wanted to not think.

I was sitting on the edge of a decorative fountain while listening to my iPod and humming along to 'Endless Love' by Jackie Chan & Kim Hee Sun when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up to see Dean giving me an odd look. I sighed and made a show of how displeased I was at having to turn off my music. Hey, I really liked that song. I took my time, which annoyed him further, and put my iPod away with a roll of my eyes. I didn't know why I felt the strong desire to annoy him, but I did. It was almost as if the effort took on a life of its own.

"What can I do for you?" I asked in my most innocent voice.

"Are you going to sit there all day or you going to take this seriously?"

"Honey child, I take everything seriously. I just choose to adapt and react in my own special way." With a sugary smile, I held out my hand for him to take. "Aren't you going to help a girl to her feet? Its what a gentleman would do."

He looked at my hand as if it offended him. Hell, it probably did. But he took it and pulled me up. "In case you failed to notice, I'm not a gentleman."

"Too bad. I hate it when good looks are wasted on those who don't appreciate them properly." I took my hand back and adjusted my tie. Yes, I was wearing a necktie. It was this cute little ensemble. Purple and white pinstripe blouse, one funky purple necktie, a black blazer and these cute black pants I found the day before we left Missouri. Urm.. Not that you cared. I was just really proud of the outfit, ok? Shut up.

Dean just shook his head at me. "And here I thought you hated me for my personality. You're just jealous because I'm better looking than you."

I wanted to have a witty comment, but I couldn't think of one since I partially agreed. I followed him as he led the way to my car. "For the record, I don't hate you. I just find your massive levels of testosterone overwhelming."

"I've never had any complaints." His eyes had a teasing gleam in them. "I get it now. You're a man hater. Someone dump you before the big dance and leave you crying in your living room?"

"First of all, I'm not a man hater." I was feeling a little defensive now. "Second of all, I don't cry. Third, watch out for that branch."

Dean easily sidestepped the low branch on the tree we passed. Too bad. I had kind of hoped that it would hit him in the head. "What were you doing here anyway?"

I shrugged. "When you guys ditched me, which was extremely rude by the way, I did some digging on the other victims. All but one just happened to be going to school here."

"Ignoring the fact that you didn't listen to me," Dean's voice held a tone that suggested I shouldn't do that again, "Did you find out anything while you were here?"

"Other than the fact that the local jocks are blind and heartless? Not really. I was going to try and get into her dorm, but she lived at a sorority house."

Dean's eyes lit up at the words 'sorority house'. "Then we should check it out."

"You just want to see the naked pillow fighting that only exists in the imagination of delusional males." I said and ignored the grin Dean had on his face. "Besides, that was the second place I checked. The girls are apparently away for the week because of some sorority reunion bullshit. It's locked up." The second I said that, I knew it was a mistake.

There was a huge Cheshire Cat grin on Dean's face. "I'm about to give you your first lesson in breaking and entering."

I groaned inwardly. One day I was going to have to learn to keep my mouth shut.

I had to admit, and boy did I hate doing so, but Dean was damn good at his job. It was almost awe inspiring to watch him work. I did have one minor problem that bugged me, and naturally, I had to mention it.

"Have you ever thought about using gloves?" I suggested as we searched through Marissa's room. I scowled in disdain at a poster for 'Smallville' that was hanging on the wall. The only good thing about that show over the past couple of years was the fourth season when they had.. That thought stopped instantly and I couldn't help but glance at Dean. I might be able to use that info later, if my mini research panned out. "I hear that the cops these days can do wonders with a thing called fingerprints."

"I don't like gloves. They cut down on sensations." Dean was currently engrossed in what looked like Marissa's diary. "Besides, we wipe things down when we're done." He explained with a distracted tone.

"Yeah, I've heard some guys use that line on other 'things'." I muttered and rolled my eyes as Dean smirked at me. "But if you wore surgical gloves, you wouldn't have to. No fingerprints and they're thin enough that you can still feel what you're doing." I picked up a digital camera and started going through the photos stored on it. "Anything interesting in that, or are you just reading about some sorority orgy marathon?"

"I wish." Dean muttered. "Nothing here. It's mostly a bunch of lists on what she ate."

"Hey..." I walked over to him as he looked up in my direction. I showed him the camera. "I found cemetery pics."

He plucked the camera from my hands. "That statue there. That was the one they found her at."

"Okay, and…?"

"The damn thing moved." He said, gauging my reaction.

I frowned and turned back to the camera. "Kind of like it's doing in the pictures?" I asked quietly.

The picture was moving. Or at least the statue was. It was rising slowly to its feet and took a few small steps forward. The image grew staticy and I knocked the camera out of Dean's hands. I received a glare for my efforts, but I shrieked instead of snapping.

The camera had landed on the bed and a bronze hand was somehow forcing its way through the screen. Jesus fuck. It was a 'Ring'/'Ringu' ripoff!

My eyes were wide and Dean grabbed my wrist. We turned toward the door, but it was too late.

The statue was standing in the doorway with a serene smile on her face. She reached out toward Dean. "So.. Pretty."

Then she was gone. There was no mysterious mojo or flickering lights. One moment she was there, the next she wasn't.

Dean and I stared at each other in confusion.

"What the fuck just happened?"