A/N: I'm going to post a little more randomly from now on, because Season 10 is coming up fast and I want to have a good chunk of this posted before then. Also, school will make things a little more sporadic. Enjoy, and thanks again for those of you who continue to support me by reviewing/favoriting/following :)

Chapter Five

Candice Lockwood.

That was her name. 23. Five foot five. Orphan. Poor as dirt. Also, her taste in music was on the other side of the spectrum from Dean's.

Gabriel was having a hard time figuring out what was so special about this girl. She was pretty enough. She had long dark hair that was normally in a single braid down her back, and blue eyes that weren't anything spectacular. They were actually more of a grey color. And she had freckles. They made her look ten years younger.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating on that last bit.

But honestly, not really Dean's type. Like… Vanessa Carlton? Really?

Also, she was as thin as a rail. There were barely any curves to her at all.

He just didn't expect her to be so… young. Dean would definitely be robbing the cradle on this one.

It had been easy enough for Gabriel to find her. It only took a few minutes to sweep the town until he finally found her riding her bike through the rain.

He stood at the one side of her closet—er, room—that he could stand in and watched. Yep. Normal girl. Normal world. There wasn't even anything spectacular about her parent's deaths. Mom passed away from cancer when she was five. Dad drowned nearly two years ago. Sad, but it happens.

He just really couldn't see this girl making any kind of difference in Dean's life.

But hey, who knew?

The girl lounging on the bed in front of him started when her phone went off.

Pirates of the Caribbean.

Wow.

Definitely not Dean material. But… Gabriel had to give her a few bonus points. He was a fan.

She seemed to wilt as she listened to whoever was on the phone, but kept her voice bright and cheery. She hung up, flopped on the bed and laid there for a few moments, then left the room, almost brushing past him.

He could go spy on her.

…Or he could snoop through her room.

He chose the latter.

While Candice (or, Candi, as she seemed to go by) got ready in the single bathroom, Gabriel toured all eight by six feet. Cramped was an understatement. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

The only furniture in the room was the twin sized bed, and a small dresser right next to it, which undoubtedly held half of her clothes. The other half took up the rest of the small floor space at the foot of her bed. On top of the dresser was a lamp, and a few books. There were also a few pictures. One was of Candi, age four, with her entire family. Her mother was blonde, and definitely where she got the freckles. Her father looked like the typical fisherman—dark hair, a well-groomed beard, deep-set, kind eyes, and an incredibly bright smile. She had a picture of her and her dad on a boat—it looked about three years old. Her dad now had peppered hair. And finally, a graduation picture.

He tried to look for a diary, because it was always fun to read the yearnings of a teenage heart, but came up with nothing. The books were fictional—Phantom of the Opera, Hunger Games, and If I Stay. He picked up If I Stay. Watermarks made the book's pages bloated and wrinkled. Gabriel soon realized they were tear marks. After reading what the book was about, he could understand why this would have ripped Candice from the inside out. It was about a girl whose entire family had died in a tragic car accident.

Gabriel put it back, wiping his hand on his shirt as if to wipe off the emotions that book was leaking from its pages.

Really, there wasn't much to learn from Candi's room. She had a stuffed bunny on the floor, an unmade bed… and on that bed was her laptop.

Bingo.

He opened the laptop, and easily hacked into it. The desktop background was obviously one that came with the computer. It was a lighthouse overlooking the sea. He went straight to her pictures. Maybe there would be some nudes.

Just then, Candi rushed in to grab her purse. Gabriel paid her no mind as he scrolled past the photos. She didn't even notice her laptop was still open, and rushed back out the door.

He heard the car start just as he was reaching the end of her pictures. There weren't many photos on her computer—more of her and her dad, and the fish they'd caught, and several of her with some dirty blonde chick. Must be a friend. It wasn't until he reached the end that he found a boy entering the scene. He had sandy hair and a grin that made his eyes nearly crinkle closed. He was good-looking otherwise. Must be an ex. He looked at the date of the photo—it was four years old. Yep. Long gone ex.

He finally switched to documents, aware of the front door opening again and Candi rushing into the kitchen. He heard the scrape of a stool. There was a moment of long silence, then she exited the house again. This time, she drove away.

Most of the documents were old high school assignments. Some were ridiculously written stories by her and her friend. But there were others that were labeled "Journal." So there they were. She hadn't written in an actual journal, or if she did, they either no longer existed or were hidden somewhere. He clicked on the most recent one, which was dated April 4th, 2014. He scanned it. She talked about taking another job at a shop her friend's grandma ran. She talked about wanting to save up enough money for college so she could start a life of her own. Then she expressed some bitterness, because she realized that probably wouldn't happen any time soon. It was a dream, though.

Gabriel felt a twinge of pity for the girl, but he shoved it off. Boo hoo. At least she had her aunt. At least she had her friend. She had two jobs. Her life really didn't suck that badly.

And she seemed to realize that, which made Gabriel not hate her.

He closed the documents, and briefly went over her browsing history. Some of it was social media. She had also been looking at prices for online classes. Gabriel gave a low chuckle. This girl really wanted to get an education. In biology, it looked like.

He finally closed the laptop. He closed his eyes, and laid back on the pillows, listening to the silence. It was broken by someone moving about the house and turning on the TV. Gabriel opened his eyes.

And became deathly still when he saw what was on the ceiling.

Sam saw the waitress's nametag, and the confusion on her face. He instantly covered up the notebook with his arms, but realized it was too late. "Uh… hi," he said with what he hoped wasn't an awkward smile.

She was watching him warily. "What are all those names for?"

Sam cleared his throat. "I'm looking for someone." He quickly closed his laptop. He had been Facebook stalking one of the suspects, and he didn't want Candi to see and be even more creeped out.

"Oh." Her thin brows refused to relax. "So… I noticed my name was on there."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a laugh. "Was it?" He uncovered the notebook to take a peek. "…Candice Lockwood?"

She nodded. "I have a feeling that's not just coincidence. Do I know you?"

"Um, no… no. Well, actually… I'm writing a… a story."

"A story."

Sam nodded, not sure where he was going with this. "An article about… this town. It seems to get a lot of tourists." He set a hand on the top of his laptop. "I hear the population here triples its size over the summer. I was going through a list of names my boss gave me so I could interview them. Your name happened to be on the list."

"Oh." Candice—or, Candi, as her nametag read,- didn't seem to be buying it. It was time to change the subject. He glanced at her notepad, still poised for taking orders.

"Could I have a beer?"

She pressed her lips together, clicking her pen and making a note on the pad. "Be right back."

Sam watched her go, desperately hoping she didn't go to management or something. He quickly turned his laptop back on, and closed the Facebook page. That woman was middle aged and married anyways. Her name was Cassandra. He glanced at his list. In all, there were only 27 females living in this town whose name started with a "C" followed by an "A." He had gone through and Facebook stalked sixteen of them already. Seven of the sixteen didn't even have a Facebook, which meant they were either too old or too young. He didn't remember looking up Candice Lockwood's Facebook.

But if Candice was that waitress… She fit the description. She only looked like she was fresh out of high school, but she had the dark hair. The name. She fit better than anyone else he had researched so far.

…Could she be the one?

She came back shortly. Without management. Or the police. Both good things. She set his beer in front of him. "Ready to order?"

"Uh, yeah. Chicken sandwich, please."

She jotted it down. "Anything else?"

"Nope, that should do it." He found himself watching her closely. She looked kind of young for Dean. Was she even legal? He could always ask how old she was, but that would be hitting the creeper limit for the night.

She leaned in front of him to grab his menu. "Who's your publisher?" she suddenly asked, standing up straight.

Sam was thrown for a moment, but he recovered. "Uh, Tourist Central. Yep." He had totally made the name up.

She nodded, as if she knew what he was talking about. "And why did all those names start with C?"

Now he was really screwed. The silence stretched on as she waited for his answer. "I don't know," he finally said.

"Just following your orders?"

Sam forced out a small laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, exactly that."

She finally gave him a smile. It made her eyes light up. "I'll be back."

Sam thanked her, and looked back at his laptop. He looked around, making sure no one was around before he pulled Facebook up again and searched for "Candice Lockwood." He couldn't find her. He sat back a moment, then deleted the "C" and "E" at the end of her first name. He was now searching for Candi Lockwood.

She was the second on the list. Her profile picture was of her and a dirty blonde taking a selfie. He clicked on her page, and scanned it. She didn't post often. The last post she made was a movie quote, apparently. It wasn't one he'd seen. Her friends seemed to like it, though.

Sam couldn't help himself. He looked through pictures, scrolled down her wall, browsed her history. She posted less and less the farther down he went, which confused him at first, until he saw the explosion of posts from other people.

She'd lost her father.

Sam quickly pulled up another tab and searched for David Lockwood's death. He pulled up an article. It was published October 7, 2012. He scanned it, then sat back.

Dave had drowned.

And Candi had seen the whole thing.

Dean was adjusting.

Adapting.

Crowley watched as Dean walked into an entire bar full of demons. And he slaughtered them. Every. Single. One.

He was sitting with him at the front counter now, watching as he downed a beer. It wasn't going to do much to him. Beer was about as intoxicating as water when you were a demon. "Feel good?" Crowley inquired.

Dean faced him, his eyes still black from the bloodlust. "I won't stop until every one of those monsters are dead. And then…" He smiled. It sent chills up Crowley's spine. "I'll kill you."

That wasn't what Crowley was expecting to hear. Nevertheless, he kept his cool. "Hmm. Well, the way I see it, we're a team now, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "I work solo."

"Okay, so you can be your own man whenever you want. But you and I… we have something special."

"Don't make me want to off you any sooner, Crowley."

So, Dean was going through his rebellious stage. That was fine. Let him blow off some steam. Crowley only chuckled in response. "Have another beer."

Dean reached for the bottle Crowley offered him. The dried blood on his hands cracked and flaked. "I've gotta say, Dean…" Crowley said, leaning forward. "What made you want to come to Lawrence?"

Dean gestured to the bodies around him. "I could sense they were here. This was my hometown. I wanted those rats gone."

Crowley sat back, impressed. Dean could sense demons from 350-some miles away? Not bad…

Or maybe it was because Dean had a special connection to Lawrence. That could make him more sensitive to the area.

Dean finished off his second beer, tossing the bottle behind him. There was a satisfying smash as it hit the wall.

Crowley spoke again. "So… what next?"

Dean faced him again. He was terrifying. "I don't have a plan, Crowley. I'm only killing demons. There's nothing wrong with that." He stood, rapping the surface of the counter with his knuckles. "See ya in Hell."

"Wait, Dean—"

Dean was gone.

"Bugger…" Crowley fished out a handkerchief, wiping a few specs of blood off his face. He glanced around at the massacre at his feet.

It wasn't the first time, but Crowley was beginning to question what he was doing hanging around with the most powerful demon in the world.

If things got out of hand, he had no idea how to stop Dean from killing him.