There's a new chapter added titled "The Family Business: Omaha" (Chapter 8) so be sure to catch up on that as well. Pezchester fans be delighted. Sorry for the reshuffle. Enjoy the new chapter!

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Rachel stepped through the front door, shrugging off the cardigan Blaine had insisted she wear over Sam's favourite white sundress.

'Dad? Daddy?' She called out, wondering where her parents were. Tony had told her before that they would both be home tonight for dinner.

Probably went for a walk.

Humming under her breath, lips curving as she remembered the way Sam had threaded his fingers through her hair while bidding her a proper goodbye, Rachel skipped lightly up the stairs to her room. Throwing herself onto the four-poster bed, she closed her eyes and folded her hands behind her head.

Something landed on her forehead, steady and warm.

I found you and this time I intend to keep you.

A voice, sinister and like a hiss of a snake, thrummed through her skull.

'Star…'

Brown eyes flew open at the name, meeting the limp gaze of Tony Berry.

'Dad?' Rachel choked out in horror as flames licked his body, doing nothing to obscure the garish red stain along his stomach.

'No!'

'Why Rachel?' Tony whispered.

'Berry, wake the fuck up.'

Rachel felt a hand pulling at her arm, sucked in a breath as she startled awake. The dim morning light spilled through the windows of Puck's truck, the engine rattling under the hood.

'You okay?' Puck asked her cautiously. Rachel jerked her head in agreement, pressed a hand to her stomach lightly.

'You've been having a lot of those dreams,' Puck remarked casually, eyes on the road. Rachel snuck a quick look at his face, noticed the tense line of his jaw.

'I apologize if they've been affecting your REM cycle-'

Her companion snorted.

'Fuck Rachel, you think I care that I'm missing a little sleep when you're thrashing around and mumbling in friggin Parseltongue for all I know.' His knuckles eased off the steering wheel to glance her way. 'Are they…are they about Blaine?'

The mention of her brother had her flinching back into her seat.

No it wasn't this time.

The images, the things playing out in her head while she's asleep…the line between dreams and reality has blurred. Rachel can't comprehend what they are but they seem real, as if memories implanted inside her head that she might have forgotten. They had been getting more vivid since Blaine had died, a constant loop playing back in her head.

'Perhaps we should go over the case again?' Rachel suggested lightly, pushing her hair back from her face. 'It is my first one after all and you have repeatedly stressed that I need to be prepared.'

'Whatever,' Puck mumbled loudly, resting an elbow on the window he had rolled down on the driver's side. 'Dean called, said they found a corpse out of Toledo with bloody eyes. Looks like Steven Shoemaker bled out internally. A lot.'

'Perhaps he suffered something medical that the doctors have yet to determine-'

'Trust me B, in the whole time I've been kicking paranormal ass, if a guy's eyeballs melt out of his skull you can be pretty fucking sure there's some kind of dead thing behind it.'

Rachel nodded thoughtfully, looked out at the suburbia on display. Two children tossed a beach ball to each other, a boy and a girl. Turning sharply away she glanced forward to see the black Impala Dean Winchester took great pride in. Sam's tall frame nudged his brother's shoulder as Puck pulled to a stop behind them.

'Hey,' Dean greeted them, Sam giving them both a tight smile. Rachel spotted the dark circles under Sam's eyes, touched the skin under her own as if she could feel them to.

'This Shoemaker's place?'

'Figure we could go talk to the daughter, see what she says,' Dean answered Puck.

'We aren't dressed for a funeral,' Rachel reminded them sharply, taking in the worn jeans and flannel shirts of the three men.

'Didn't we go through this? You said you can act right?' Puck asked her, rolling his eyes. Rachel narrowed her own in response.

'My acting abilities are flawless but a key component of getting into character is adorning the proper clothing Noah. Plus, don't you think it's a bit rude to be interrogating a suspect during her father's funeral?'

'She isn't really a suspect,' Sam corrected her gently.

'Lying's part of the job sweetheart. Best get used to it,' Dean chimed in, lifting a shoulder. 'You sure she's ready Puckerman? It's been like two weeks-'

'She's got the basics down. She won't shoot your junk off with a gun now.'

'Excuse me. May I remind you that I have a current hunting license for both Ohio and Nebraska. I simply need to possess a firearm that is in proportion to my stature-'

'Guys,' Sam broke in, sounding exasperated. Rachel shut her mouth, giving Sam a apologetic look. 'We can't all go in there.'

'Noah and I will extract the pertinent information. A grieving daughter will respond better to a female,' Rachel said before pushing past Dean and heading towards the house. Puck grabbed her arm after a beat, tucked her into his side.

'Don't run off without me probie,' Puck breathed into her ear. Rachel told herself not to shiver. 'Daughter's name is Donna, in case you wanted to know what Dean had to say.'

Feeling distinctly underdressed, Rachel and Puck found their way towards Donna. The girl, really only a year or two younger than Rachel herself, stood flanked by two friends. Seeing the grief etched onto Donna's face Rachel hesitated.

'You must be Donna, right?' Puck said, Donna lifting her head to give them a wary look.

'I'm sorry for your loss,' Rachel told her sincerely.

'Thank you,' Donna replied.

'I'm Rachel and this is…Puck. We worked with your father.'

'You did?' Donna retorted skeptically.

'Yeah. Guy was a real slave driver. Sucks about the stroke,' Puck said, Rachel digging an elbow into his side after he had spoken. Honestly.

'It wasn't a stroke,' a girl spoke up from behind Donna. 'Daddy died because I said it.'

'Lily! I'm sorry, she's just upset,' Donna clucked her tongue.

'Why would you say something like that Lily?' Rachel bent her knees so she was eye-level with Lily, whose blue eyes darted from Rachel to Puck as if she couldn't decide whether it was worth revealing the truth.

'Right before he died…I said it. I said Bloody Mary three times in the bathroom mirror. She came and took his eyes, that's what she does.'

'That's is not why Dad died Lil,' Donna told her sister firmly, placing a hand on her hair.

'Your sister's right Lily. There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your Dad didn't say it, did he?' Puck said softly.

'No, I don't think so,' Lily answered, voice shaky. Rachel rose to meet Puck's stare.

'Excuse me Donna, but could I use your bathroom?' Rachel enquired politely.

'Second door on the left up the stairs,' Donna instructed, leading Lily away. One of Donna's friends, a girl with dirty blonde hair, gave Rachel a considering look as Puck grabbed her hand and led her towards the staircase.

'Noah! Noah! Slow down,' Rachel said under her breath, beaming at an old man in a suit who was looking in distaste at Puck's mohawk as they reached the second floor. Puck didn't say a word until they were in the bathroom, both drawn to the blood dried onto the bathroom floor.

'Is that…'

'Yeah. Shit. Bloody Mary? For reals?'

'Noah, who is this-'

'What are you guys doing up here?' Donna's friend, the one from before, was staring at the two of them.

'I needed to use the restroom,' Rachel repeated, aware that Puck still had her hand in his. The girl arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

'You are not hooking up in my best friend's bathroom at her Dad's funeral,' the girl told them, tone flat. 'Besides there's no way you worked for Mr Shoemaker. He was a day trader and he worked by himself.'

'Are you gonna scream or something?' Puck asked, looking at the girl as if she were a powder keg.

'We think something abnormal happened to Donna's father,' Rachel blurted out, tugging on Puck's grip. The man looked startled before releasing his hold, shoved his hand behind his back.

'Yeah, a stroke.'

'We believe it might be something else….'

'Charlie,' the girl grudgingly supplied her name. 'Something else like what?'

'I don't believe I can give you a definitive answer until I have the necessary information. But I can tell you what we don't want it to happen to anyone else.'

'Are you guys like cops? Because I didn't think they let you get in if you had a lame haircut,' Charlie said, giving Puck's mohawk a passing glance that had Puck stiffening at the insult. Rachel quickly grabbed his arm, remembering Abigail, Bekah and Finn telling her in no way should she poke fun at his hair while she had been training at the Roadhouse.

'Something approximate to that,' Rachel answered thinly. 'In fact, it would be incredibly helpful if you or your friends spot anything out of the ordinary and give us a call straight away.'

Rachel reached into her wallet for the cards Blaine had had printed out for Christmas last year, detailing her name and cell number with a star etched into the bottom right corner. She barely made herself hand one over.

'Well we really must be going,' Rachel announced brightly, dragging Puck along with her.

Charlie watched them go, card held loosely between her fingers and the blood on the floor stark against the bathroom tiles.