A/N: Thanks for the reviews, the favorites, and anyone who has stuck with the story so far. This chapter is a long one, and it was going to be longer but I was forced to chop it in half. It's rather difficult, this story. Just like an episode it's leading up to something, whereas my other story dove head first into the main plot in the like the second chapter. I hope you'll bear with me. And I hope it's been okay so far. I've been adding parts from the demon's thoughts to keep the chapters interesting and to keep the story heading in the direction that I want it to. Alright I'm rambling. I have to let you get back to the story. Don't listen to this crazy old… teenager's waffle and just enjoy this chapter!

CHAPTER 3

For three centuries his demonic essence had been trapped, bound by a dozen demon hunters so that he would not be able to wreak chaos anymore. But a lot they had known. Three centuries ago thought by trapping him within the gates of a hallowed ground would keep him caged. But the hunters had been fools, for they had thought that years later the church would be torn down and a school would be built. At last, all he needed was a corporal body and then he would be free.

Within the grimy and haunted walls of the college's boiler room, Valentine's mind whispered to life. The feeble sound of dripping water had awoken him from his deep sleep. The demon, Valentine, was less than a ghost—he was nothing more than demonic vapor. He could not possess people, only stare through his hollow and deadened eyes at the miserable sight he was forced to witness day in and day out. If he could of, the demon would have killed himself long before now. There was nothing left to see, nothing to left to hear. The world had become such a lonely place.

Valentine drifted further along the sullied stone walls, and toward the padlocked double steel doors. The demon was unable to move any further. He could not leave the room, as he did not have hands made of solid flesh that would allow him to open the doors. Even if the doors had rusted, crumbled, he would not be able to leave the grounds. There may be a new building, but the grounds had and always will remain holy.

There was nothing left anymore and nothing new. For three hundred years he had seen the world change. He had witnessed the walls of the church being burned down, the school being built and soon the silence that had hung in the air for two and a half centuries had been stripped away. Now, all he could hear was the annoying whims of college students.

When the school had first been built and building had been overrun with humans, the sound of voices had somewhat been a precious gift, a novelty. Before his bones had turned to dust, Valentine had been surrounded by others; those who served him willingly, and those who had been forced. After being trapped, the demon had been forced to spend the next two and half centuries alone. But the novelty of having human energy constantly around him had worn off quickly. Even free, Valentine could drain the life from humans not only by feeding from their essence but by using his hands to crush their tiny bones into dust.

Being confined to place filled with little, if not no, beauty was a fate worse than death. Those hunters that had confined Valentine and caged him; he knew were long dead, but his lust for madness and bloodshed had not. He would baptize the world in the blood of his victims. He would force the humans to witness the world change from simple to unbearable; just as they had done to him.

Dean made sure that the coast was completely clear before ducking under the security tape. He reached into his leather jacket pocket and gingerly pulled out his favorite pearl-handled hand gun. He kept it close to his side, his finger pressed down lightly on the trigger. It was very rare that a killer would retreat back to the scene of the crime but he had to be certain that he was safe. Besides, he hated being without a weapon, gun or knife, it never felt right especially in his line of work. Dean edged along the building's outer wall, and kept a close eye out for so much as a shadow or the rustling of the trees that seemed to surround the place. He was careful not to touch anything; the crime scene investigators had already been but if someone were to come back and give the place another once over he could not risk his prints showing up. Especially since the cops and demons think I'm dead…again.

He emerged into the car park; the place where the cops had found the mutilated body. Dean tried not to think about who the victim had been; it only made his job harder. He had convinced Sam, argued with him, to stay with his friend Jack after they had paid him a visit, hours before. Even though Sam had hesitated at first, in the end the young Winchester had agreed and stayed to comfort his friend. Dean did not really know what Sam was going to do or say to make his grieving friends feel better. But he supposed that was what always happened in the case of a death; no one ever knew what to do. Dean sighed. When he emerged onto the crime scene his first thought had been he was glad that Sam had agreed to stay behind. Dean knew that his younger brother was finding it difficult, if not impossible, to recover from the deaths of Hendrickson, Nancy, and the other officers that had died that night. Also he knew that his own upcoming deals were not making it any easier for the kid. But the last thing that Sam needed right now was to visit the crime scene of one of his friend's murders.

Sick: was Dean's first thought when he found the dried splatters of blood that seemed to cover the entire gravel surface. He glanced from the blood to the chalk outlines that indicated where numerous parts of the victim's body were discovered. People are crazy, he thought while edging around the outlines. Though he knew it would disappoint his brother greatly, Dean knew that whoever the killer was defiantly human. Perhaps it made it easier for Sam to pinpoint the murder on an 'it' rather than an actual human being. If the murderer were in fact a demon, werewolf, vampire or some other evil and grizzly predator than Sam could take his revenge rather than allow this police to deal with it. Dean hated knowing that he was going to have to break the news to him, but someone had to. He couldn't let the kid go chasing after a human being because no matter how much Dean did not want to admit it; it wasn't right.

"Just as I suspected," Dean muttered. "Our buddy wasn't killed here." He was right; whoever had done the killing had moved the body. This may have been the place where the police had discovered the numerous parts of the corpse but it wasn't where the murder itself had played out. There were no signs of a struggle anywhere; just numerous patches of dried blood. And judging by the state the body had been in there would have had to of been blood than what he saw now. Dean let out a heavy sigh. Nothing's ever easy, he thought and then shook his head. Now we gotta work over time.

"It means a lot that you're here."

Sam glanced up just to time to see his friend, Jack, push his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. The young man looked a wreak; their were dark circles under his eyes, his short black hair was tangled, his skin had a grayish ting about it, and the black t-shirt and denim jacket he was wearing seemed to hand off his frame. Yeah depression will do that to you, Sam thought along with a sigh.

"Haven't gotten much sleep, huh?" Sam asked as he handed Jack another box of tissues. Jack had a tissue under his eyes but still responded in the nod of his head.

"It's not just due to the death," Sam other friend Rebecca, who had been Zack's sister, pointed out. "No one around here is getting much sleep. They're all afraid that…" Her voice trailed off, as did her eyes. She looked away from Sam, and instead starting twisting her fingers around her straight blonde hair. "The killer is still out there. God, it's like living some b-grade horror movie or something. You sure the killer isn't…you know…" Again she had trailed off. But instead of pausing to cry, she gave Sam an expression. He knew what she meant immediately; she wanted to know whether the human was a human or something else.

"We don't know," Sam answered. He tried his best not to look at Jack. Rebecca may know about his true profession, but none of his other friends did and Sam wanted to keep it that way. The last thing he wanted was people to think he was some kind of freak, especially if those people were his friends. "I'm sorry to ask, you said that Zack was the first body the police found?"

Rebecca blew her nose on the one of the tissues Jack had offered her. "Yeah," she replied in croaky voice.

Sam felt his heart break for her. He knew how difficult this must be for her; losing a loved one. She had Zack had been so close. Sam could not imagine what he would do if Dean were to die. But he is going to die. He's going to go to leave in a few months and go to… Sam shook his head. He did not want to think about Dean's deal, least of all now, at a time when he so desperately wanted to break down in tears already. He was forcing himself to remain strong. He couldn't stop whatever was behind these gruesome murders by crying on them. I have to be strong, Sam told himself, over again. I have to be strong.

"You mentioned that there was another murder?" Sam hated to ask but he had know.

After drawing her long knitted cardigan in closer to her chest she gave him another brief nod. "Yes. I don't know much about. The police are trying to keep it all quiet, but I heard that a girl's body was found a couple of nights ago. I don't know what her name was or…"

"Bethany Smitt."

Every turned around to see Dean walking casually into the room. When he slammed the dorm room shut behind him nearly every one jumped. Sam threw Dean a startled expression, though it turned to annoyed expression only seconds later. He knew Dean had crept up on him on purpose, and Sam silently promised that he would get him back later. Dean had a broad grin on his face. He was clearly delighted with the effect his entrance had made on every one else in the room.

"Bethany Smitt?" Sam echoed.

"Our very own Jack the Ripper's second victim," Dean answered grimly. "No offense meant," he added briskly, glancing at Jack; who leaned against the wall with his hands crossed firmly against his chest. Dean took a seat next to Rebecca on the two seated couch. Sam noticed Rebecca shift slowly away from Dean. The young woman had drawn her cardigan in closer, and eyed Dean with caution. Even though it had been a shape shifter acting out as Dean when he had bound, gagged and tortured her, Sam could sense that his friend was not entirely comfortable with Dean's presence. Clearly Dean could sense it too, because he tossed her a reassuring smile. Rebecca still seemed on edge but the grin had somewhat calmed her nervousness.

After noticing that everyone else in the room was staring in his direction Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He gave everyone one finale and slight grin before continuing. "Bethany was a freshman, quite the loner…and not bad looking…of course that was before she had been gutted and her body was hacked into pieces." Jack made a squeamish sound when those last few words had been uttered. Dean chose it ignore him and continued. "She had no enemies, none are listed anyway. Bethany spent most of her time studying in the library; hence the loner part. When the college janitor found her body she was wearing a nightgown, so my guess is some one chased her from her room. Oh, and get this: the body was found in a graveyard."

Everyone expect Dean merely shrugged. "This school was built on a cemetery," Sam informed. He had known this because before he had even set foot in the college he read up on it. One of the reasons the reasons had chosen the college was because it had been built the grounds of a three hundred year old cemetery. Due to the grounds being blessed it made it difficult for demons or malevolent spirits to enter.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No wonder people are killing people around here," he muttered, though Sam heard him.

"How the heck do you know all this stuff?" Jack asked Dean. He eyed him suspiciously.

Rebecca nudged Dean gently in the arm. "I wouldn't use the detective line if I were you," she whispered. "It didn't work for me, remember?"

"All too well," Dean muttered back. "I'm a reporter," he answered after hesitation. "I'm writing an…article…thingy on this case. It's one of the reasons why Sam and I headed all the way out here. That and my brother and I wanted to give you our condolences."

Jack looked more convinced, however his arms remained crossed and his frown had not disappeared. Sam thought that Jack's behavior was off. This was the first time he had ever met Dean, and yet the guy treated him like Dean was his sworn enemy. It did not make sense. Though perhaps Jack's frosty attitude towards Dean was because in Jack's mind Dean had taken Sam away from them. Sam had explained, earlier that day, that he had needed to take time after Jessica's death to grieve. He had also explained that coming back had been one of the most, if not most, difficult thing he had ever done. And it was.

"Alright," Dean announced. He stood up, and made his way briskly over to Sam. He leaned into Sam and muttered, "I'm going to go check out the coroners report, see what I can find out. If you want to…"

"I'm not staying," Sam replied. He tossed one last look in the Jack's direction. Just has he had suspected the guy was still scowling. Some things never change. "I want to make myself useful. I'll go with you."

Sam told Rebecca and Jack that he was going to go with Dean and check out the nearest motel. Because she knew the truth about what he and his brother did for a living, Sam knew that Rebecca knew exactly what they were going to do. She gave him a nod, followed by a wink. Jack merely shrugged. Sam gave him a smile; though it was rather forced.

"You know what?" Sam appeared at Dean's side. "You go check out the morgue. I'll take a look around the campus and just check to see if there are no other disturbances tonight."

Dean's brows immediately knitted. "I don't like that idea Sam," he said flatly. "A: someone could see you, and B: there is a frigging raving psycho on the loose that hacks up its victims for kicks. I don't want you out there, not until we now exactly what who or what we're dealing with."

The corners of Sam's mouth curved into a smile. "I'm thankful for the concern Dean, but I can take care of myself. Besides A: I used to go to this school, if you don't remember. I know most of the professors and some of the other members of staff, and assuming they haven't resigned or been sacked they won't question me hanging around. You on the other hand, well you're a wanted serial killer if you don't remember. Considering the circumstances security is going to be beefed up. It will look mighty suspicious if they catch you wondering around campus. I don't want you thrown back in jail. And B: there is raving psycho on the loose which is exactly why we need to make sure no one else gets killed."

Dean sighed. "Sam, I know you can look after yourself but isn't like we have the colt with us anymore. Thanks to that bitch Bela," he added angrily. His facial expression had turned instantly sour when he had mentioned Bela's name. Dean hated her—no he loathed her with a passion—and Sam saw no reason why he shouldn't.

"I'll be fine," Sam reassured him. He gave Dean a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Just go do your thing and let me do mine. If I get into any trouble I'll give you a call."

"Fine," Dean said. He didn't seem completely comfortable with the notion of Sam going off by himself, but it was no use arguing over it. Dean and Sam had there many differences, but both were damn stubborn. He arched an eyebrow. "And what do you mean I'll get thrown in jail? What am I that stupid…no, don't answer that." "If I happen to get thrown in jail you know I'll just break out again. It may take a little longer than last time, but I'll get there in a week…or two or three."

Sam gave his brother one last grin, a weak one, and then watched him walk off in the other direction. Not if the demons come to collect your soul first, Sam silently retorted.