CHAPTER 2

Something was wrong. No matter how much he tried, Dean could not shake the nagging feeling that his brother was hiding something from him. He'd asked Sam, at least over a dozen times, what was wrong but he's always received no answer. Clearly something was really wrong if the guy wanted to go back to the location that his girlfriend was murdered at almost three years ago. Sam was keeping mum for a reason, and Dean despised being left in the dark. He would find out what was going on inside that freaky head of his brother's even if he had to force it out of him.

Trying to cure his sullen mood, Dean took a good look at the surroundings that seem whizzed passed him. He kept his eyes on the road for most of the time, though he couldn't help but glance away on occasion. California was beautiful. Even though Dean and his younger brother seemed to be cursed when it came to the place, he could not help but love it. The weather was always fabulous. But no matter how much he adored the state, Dean could not see himself living in the place for a long period of time. The weather and surroundings were great, but it would get boring. Also there were too many negative memories that would keep floating back to him. Dean sighed; but it wasn't a bad sigh. He couldn't see himself settling anywhere, too be honest. His live belonged on the open road.

"You're awfully quiet." Sam glanced at Dean; curiosity seemed to haunt his features.

"Just taking in the surroundings," Dean replied, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

Sam scoffed. "Since when?" he asked dryly. "Dean you hate this place as much as I do."

Dean allowed his jaw to clench. "Yeah well it seemed to be you that wanted to spend the rest of your existence here, college boy." He had always become rather hot tempered when it came to the subject of Sam and running off in the middle of the night to attend college. In some ways Dean had always been jealous, but in other ways he had spend countless sleepless nights worrying about his younger brother. Anything could have happened in those two years, and sure the kid could take care of himself but he had still found himself worrying. Dean had not been the only one; their father had felt the same way.

"That was then." Sam had turned away from Dean. His eyes now faced forward. Unlike Dean, he was not even bothering to look outside the window. Dean knew that going back to Palo Alto was difficult for his brother. It was difficult for Dean too, because he was the one that had to put up with his brother's somber mood. It broke his heart to see Sam upset. He wanted to help Sam, but he did not know how he could. Dean had always thought that he was terrible at comforting people—that was more Sam's thing. Emotions just were not Dean's thing, and every time he tried to say something heartfelt and emotional it always seemed to come out forced like some bad botoxed-up actor that was trying to perform one of them sappy love scenes from day time soaps.

"Whatever." Dean shook his head. He was not in any mood to start another pointless argument with his brother. Particularly when Sam had been in such a shirty mood these last few weeks. Shirty, Dean thought wryly. Who in their right mind uses that lame-as phrase anymore?

"Here we are." Dean pulled the Impala into one of the vacant parking spaces on the college campus. When he had the chance to glance up at the building he couldn't help but stare in awe. The large building of the main college looked beautiful—and this was coming from a guy who would never be caught dead using the phrase 'beautiful'. But the Spanish inspired building was breathtaking. Breathtaking? In disbelief, Dean shook his head. Jeez I've been spending too much time around Sam. There was some truth to that; Dean had always known his younger brother to use pansy words like that.

As Sam made his way hesitantly out of the car Dean could have sworn he had heard him mutter "home sweet home" in a tone that made Dean's heart break.

Sometimes, college could a breath of fresh air and freedom, but at this moment for Sam it felt like the most silent and depressing place on earth. And in moments like this, all his darkest memories came crashing in on him. Sam did not know where he was heading anymore. Oh, he knew that he was headed for one of the numerous dormitories, which he had once shared with an old roommate of his Jack, with Dean by his side. But when it came to his life Sam would always remain lost. He had always told himself, and Dean, that when the Yellow-eyed-demon was finally dealt with, he would head back to college and back to leading a life Dean had always described as "some normal apple-pie-life". But since all hell had literally broken loose, this new big-bad Lilth, and Dean's deal, resuming a normal life did not seem to be listed on the menu.

When they had first arrived, walked through the crowed halls, Sam had felt as if a dark cloud had hung over him. He had never felt more alone or depressed in his life. He had reframed himself from looking around, unlike Dean who was kept staring at the place with his jaw dropped. The corridors were neither sunny nor full of energy like they had once been, but now cold, dark and lonely. Perhaps it was the memories he had kept having of his old-girlfriend, and would-have-been-fiancé, Jessica Moore. Sam fought back the urge to burst into tears. He could not let himself fall apart, not now.

"Crowded," Dean said at his side.

Sam had almost jumped at the sound of his voice. For a moment he had almost completely forgotten that his brother was still there. "It is crowded," Sam agreed. He had wedged his way through a group of giggling young woman, freshmen, which had managed to catch Dean's eye. Sam saw his brother's mood had immediately become lifted and in high spirits. Sam kept his features grim.

Sam reminded his brother in a stern tone, "We're here for business, not pleasure."

Despite Sam's words, Dean did not remove his broad grin. "And what business would that be, huh Sam?" he asked dryly. Now, he had stopped smiling. He stopped in his tracks all together and had, through force, pushed Sam aside. "You're hiding something from me," he told him gravely. "You may have your reasons, and quite frankly I don't care. You've been in a bad mood for the last few weeks, ever since Hendrickson, the officer and that virgin chick Nancy had died. I get why you're upset and angry with their death, and I get why you're acting the exact same way around here." "I've been tip toeing around you for weeks, but now it comes to an end. You read something in that email, something that made your jaw drop. And now you're describing it as 'business' which means you're going to tell me what's going on."

Wow, Sam thought. He raised an eyebrow. He gazed at Dean; though not angry but merely surprised. He had forgotten how much Dean and their father had been alike; both were stubborn, blunt, and both despised secrets and being left in the dark. And not to mention both have, so stupidly, sold their souls to a demon, Sam silently added.

"Alright," Sam agreed—not like he had much of a choice. "I'll tell you what's going on." "Truthfully I don't know if this is one of our normal gigs. One of my friends, Zack, was murdered. I don't know what happened exactly but his corpse, what was left of it, was found in the bushes near the campus car park." That was all Sam knew; as that was all Jack had typed in the email. Of course, now that he and Dean were here they could find out more—not only from other students, but by looking through both the police and autopsy files. Sam did not know if Steven had been killed by one of their usual playmates, but he had been murdered and which by the expression on Dean's face was good enough for them.

"Zack; as in the same Zack from St Louis? And the same Zack that was framed for the murder of his girlfriend, by that S.O.B shape shifter?"

Sam nodded in response. Dean had never attempted to hide his serious dislike for Shape shifters; particularly since the same one had framed him for murder as well. If it weren't for the seriousness of what was happening Sam would have smiled, heck maybe he would have even laughed.

"I liked him—well after I found out he wasn't some fruit-loop that bound, gagged and beat his girlfriends to death for kicks." Dean flinched. "What was left of it" he echoed, clearly mortified. "Jeez that doesn't sound good does it?" "Alright we should check it out. We'll start with your buddy Jack, ha Zack and Jack…and so not the point, and then move on the crime scene…"

"That's it!?" Sam asked, surprised and dazed.

"Well I was hoping to get more out until you so nicely decided to talk over me…but yeah that's about it." "We'll check out the crime scene, see if there were any witnesses and if so talk to them, and have a glimpse at those police and autopsy files. All legally done of course," Dean briskly added, along with a smirk.

Sam gave his brother a genuine, sarcastic free, smile. It was the first time he had caught himself smiling in a long time. He felt so much appreciation for his brother. He would never tell Dean that, though, because the guy would just laugh it off or make some comment about either 'chick flick moments', 'pansy stuff', or most likely both. Heck he has done in the past.

Sam felt a shiver crawl its way up his spine, but that wasn't the only thing he felt. A young man, who had been rushing down the hall with a stack of books in his hands, had tried to hastily wedge himself through the small gap between Sam and Dean. Instead of successfully pulling his way through he had tripped on one of Sam's untied shoelaces and fell with a thud to the marble flooring. Apologetically, Sam swiftly picked up the heavy volumes that, after flying out of the young man's hands, had scattered across the floor.

"Sorry," Sam said. And he really was. He helped the young man to his feet.

The young man ran a pale finger through his mousy brown hair. "I—it's o—okay," he replied in a stutter.

Giving the young man a small smile, and without even looking at the titles, he handed him his books. "These floors can be slippery," Sam informed him. "I found myself tripping a lot, especially when I was late for class."

The young man returned the smile, though to Sam it looked rather forced, and then hurried off down the hall.

"Someone you know?" Dean asked his brother; who was still staring off after the young man.

"No," Sam honestly replied. "He must be a freshman." After the young man was well out of eye shot, he did not give him a second thought. He and his brother had some serious work to do.