Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or Supernatural. They belong to the CW/WB whatever they want to call it now and far more talented people than me. The only thing that's mine is Lacey and believe me, she wishes she weren't.

Part 9: Reasons Why

"So here's what I found out." Sam started to explain. "The statue was made as a memorial to a seventeen year old girl that disappeared from the area about forty years ago."

After getting the hell out of dodge and picking up Sam, and filling him in on what happened, we were now back in the motel listening to him explain what he found.

Dean was sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair with their dad's journal in front of him. Sam was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, and I swear, he had this gleam in his eyes. For a guy who wanted normalcy, when he was in this mode, he seemed so.. Animated. It was interesting. As for me, I was sitting on the same bed as Sam, but I was leaning against the headboard and trying to braid my hair. What? It was bugging me.

"Her name was Ava Montgomery," Sam continued. "Apparently, she had a full ride to Juilliard before she disappeared. No one ever found out what happened to her, not even her piano teacher who claimed to know her better than anyone."

"So we're probably looking at a murder victim of some kind." Dean said. He seemed slightly relieved by it. "We have to find her body and torch it. Same as always."

"But why is she killing these people?" I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. "And why was she almost touchy feely with you?"

"You heard her. I'm the good looking one." He smirked at me and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm surprised Sam and I can fit into this room, what with you and your gargantuan ego sitting there." I said to him. "So why is she only doing it once a year? Why are all but one of the girls college students?"

Sam looked over at me with a curious look. "You really did do research."

"I told you I did." I finished braiding my hair with a shrug. "Boredom makes me play with Google."

"From what I dug up, the other victims from the school were top of their class in some way." Sam explained.

"And the girls were probably all part of a sorority that dared them to go to the cemetery." Dean guessed. "Girls with promising futures heading to a haunted area where a girl who lost hers was hanging about. Motivation? Jealousy."

It really was amazing to watch them do this. It was just.. Wow. You know? But I still wasn't satisfied. It was all so.. Convenient. "What about the high school girl?"

Sam shook his head. "She's the only one that doesn't fit the pattern…" He trailed off.

"I hear a but coming." I prodded him.

"She was related to the piano teacher."

I drummed my fingers on the table as I stared vacantly at the drink in front of me. I was a very unhappy camper. But not because the guys wouldn't let me play investigator with them. I was mostly fine with that. They knew what they were doing. Me? I only knew from fandoms and fiction. If you ever wanted to survive a horror movie, I could help you. But only if I wasn't with you. Otherwise I'd just use you as cannon fodder. I'd need those extra five minutes to survive. I'm selfish that way.

I hated this situation. I really, truly hated it. I hated horning in on the brothers' lives like this. I hated feeling like a third wheel that would never be needed.

Holy crap. I was the tin dog. Or at least I would be. I needed a drink of brain cell killing proportions. So why did I order a club soda? Oh that's right. I didn't drink. Damn.

Instead, I merely sipped my lame ass drink and wished I were back home. I'd even settle for running around Hogwarts with Harry while Angelus tried to kill us. Good times.. God damn it, Potter never did buy me a new fedora. Fuck. That still bugged me. I missed my hat.

I tried to ignore the chatter of the other patrons of the bar as best I could, but it was hard when I could feel a set of eyes on me. So I tried my best to act casual and cast a bored look around the room, trying to see who was watching me.

There. A man by the pool table stood against a wall. I couldn't see his face due to the dim lighting near him, but his hand rose in a mock salute. He removed himself from the wall and my eyes widened as I saw his face. His mouth curved into an evil smile.. And a man playing pool chose that moment to block my view. When he moved again, the mystery man was gone.

Only he wasn't a mystery. That was John Winchester. Oh god, oh god. Do I tell them? How do I tell them? They've never shown me a picture of him. Damn damn damn.

What if it was a figment of my imagination? Fuck.

"Can I buy you a dr-"

"Fuck off and die, please." I said with a syrupy tone. I really wasn't in the mood for the redneck that was leering at me. He looked pissed and I matched his glare without blinking. He finally left me alone, allowing me to return to my thoughts.

Useless thoughts, but thoughts.

What did I know so far? Both Sam and I had dreams of doom and gloom. Sam's involved Dean getting killed by some bitch. Could be a Sue. But.. That was assuming I was playing with the same rules. Usually in this sort of thing, I'd have had a run in with a Sue of some kind by now. One that wasn't me. But so far.. Nada. It unnerved me. If this scenario didn't play by the rules, then what the fuck was I doing here?

Now where.. Ah. Woman killing Dean. Me with the calls and taunts and childish games. Then me and the dream of what I've been calling the Skinner Demon. Not original, but that thing.. It was evil. I resisted the urge to shudder, but my gaze fell on the bandaged arm that hid in the sleeve of my blazer. Sigh.

Two different dream invaders. Each with their own style.

I was still lost in my thoughts when Sam and Dean sat themselves down at my table. The waitress was more than happy to come by and flirt with them while taking their orders. She reminded me of the nurse, because guess what? The waitress was hot too. Not just any hot, but a slightly poor man's version of Alyssa Milano on her better days.

This was my own personal hell. Had to be. The pretty people everywhere were going to drive me insane. The waitress looked over at me and asked if I wanted anything else. I asked for a bullet to the head and she just laughed cheerfully and sauntered off to the bar. Dean gave me a dirty look. I pretended I didn't notice.

"Find anything interesting while playing dress up?" I asked them and studied my glass. Pretty. Clear. And hey, made of glass!

"We didn't play dress up." Dean corrected. Good. I'd have really hated to miss that. I want a repeat of the priest outfits. While I had my camera ready. "Gregory Townsend, the music teacher, died about eight years ago. Car accident."

I feigned interest. "And…?"

"His daughter and her husband died in the accident too, leaving the granddaughter to his wife. The granddaughter died a year later." Dean grinned at Sam. "And Mrs. Townsend really liked Sam."

"Shut up." Sam muttered, looking slightly flushed. I arched an eyebrow and was prepared to say something, but Sam gave me a 'look'. "Don't ask."

Who needed to ask? From the smile on Dean's face and my own imagery skills, I could picture it. I did and, when I snickered, Sam gave me a dirty look.

"Anyway," Sam tried to steer the topic back to important things, "Mrs. Townsend was pretty talkative-"

"Only to you." Dean said. He almost seemed a little put out.

"Aww, Dean couldn't get a little love from a senior citizen?" I faked a sympathetic look. "Don't worry, we can stop by one of the nursing homes in the morning."

"Only if we get to leave you there." Dean said and took a sip of his beer that had arrived during the Sam mocking.

I pelted a peanut in Dean's direction. "You'll have to drag me there first and I'm not into that rough stuff." Before Dean could reply with something that would either make me smack him or quite possibly shut me up, I turned my attention back to Sam. "Continue. Please."

"Thanks." Sam muttered with a dry tone. "She said that her husband gave Ava piano lessons four days a week for about three years, all the way until she vanished."

"Four days a week?" I absently ran my finger around the rim of my glass. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"According to the wife, she thought it was because of Ava's talent." Sam said with a sigh. "And then she said it wasn't her talent in music."

I stared at him. "Oh. You mean-"

"Teacher student relations of the extra curricular kind." Dean said and eyed the waitress again.

I made a disgusted face. "Ick. So what happened?"

Sam tapped the table with a pen he'd been playing with. "Mr. Townsend was the last one to see her, but no one ever suspected him of anything."

"Which probably means he killed her and hid the body." I sighed and glanced in the direction I had seen John Winchester. "Wouldn't it be freaky if he managed to hide the body in the statue?"

Silence.

I looked back at them and they were staring at me. "What?"

"You can't melt down a statue!" I hissed at the Demon Hunter Duo. We were once again at the motel and they were going through their things to find stuff they could use on their little midnight run.

Dean rifled through a pile of gear with a grunt. "I'm going to regret this, but why not?"

"Let me count the ways. One, you don't even know for sure if he put her there! Two, it's really not that likely, and I was kidding about it anyway. Three, there's a guard. Four, how the fuck are you going to melt it down? Five, are you fucking nuts!"

"We'll figure it out as-"

"Guys!" Sam interrupted us. We both looked over and he pointed to the tv I had left on while they were gone. "We might have a bigger problem."

"And in local news, the Ava Montgomery memorial statue in Brook Haven Cemetery was stolen earlier this evening. Police have no leads at this time." The news woman droned on about the mysterious deaths surrounding it, but she didn't say anything else we didn't already know.

I looked over at Dean and he noticed. He scowled at me. "What?"

Sam joined me in looking at his brother and Dean started to get frustrated. "Will you both stop looking at me like that?"

"She did say you were pretty." I pointed out.

"Oh come on, you can't think-"

"That she's going to come for you?" Sam finished. "She might."

"Son of a bitch." Dean growled.

"Look at it this way," I said with a shrug. "At least it makes you the king of the Pretty People With Problems."

"Shut up."