A/N- Things are getting interesting! I'm excited. By the way, I kind of love writing from Sara's viewpoint.

Chapter 6

The next morning, the family of hunters gathered in the kitchen to review what they knew over hot eggs, bacon, and toast. Unfortunately, what they knew couldn't even fill a post-it note. After all, what could you really do with loose potting soil as your only lead?

"This is crazy. How could ten people be missing without a single trace?! They didn't just up and vanish", Jo grumbled. Her mother patted her, trying to console her. Jo had never been very good at the patience part of hunting.

Bobby's phone buzzed and he checked it before looking back at them. "Balls. Better make that an unlucky thirteen."

"What?!" echoed around the table.

He nodded grimly. "Jodi just sent me an update. A couple, Bruce and Jeff Blake, has been missing for a day, and last night a man by the name of Bert Warren disappeared. Crime scenes look about the same as the others."

"You wanna check the homes anyway though," Sam asked, already gathering his jacket. His furrowed brow was echoed on the faces of everyone there.

Bobby sighed. "Might as well. Maybe we get lucky and the perp leaves something at either of these crime scenes. Heck, I don't know. Sam, I think you should stay here. Double check the phone records, banks accounts, anything you can get your hands on. Between thirteen people, there has to be some common denominator, whether it be churches they go to, doctors they see. Hell, if they grew up in the same neighborhood, I want to know. Dean, you're with me." Everyone nodded and headed for the door as Sam retreated to the living room. Little did Dean know, despite what Sam had said the previous day, Sara was going to be included in his search.

On the road into town, Bobby fiddled with the radio, and then let it alone. "So, you and your brother mend fences?"

Dean was checking his gun, but he looked up as Bobby spoke. "Yeah, on the way back home last night. He apologized for passing judgement so fast."

"Well, she pass monster inspection?"

"Yup, just like I knew she would."

"Hey, don't go blamin' your brother for throwin caution to the wind. We're on a job, and it was a lead I'm glad he followed through on. Now we can know for sure that she's at least out of the suspect pool." Bobby grinned. "I wouldn't mind seein this girl that's got you in knots."

"Shut up Bobby."

Once at the crime scene, Bobby distracted the lead detective while Dean did a sweep of the house, an eye open for anything witchy or spirity or overall supernatural. Of course, he turned up with more of the same – fine dirt on the island of the kitchen, and nothing else. His anger boiled over a little, and he kicked a nearby cabinet, only catch a picture frame before it smashed to the ground. Turning it over, he looked at the man staring solemnly back into the camera on the edge of the grand canyon, complete with an overlarge walking stick and a beige floppy hat. Dean could see the man was pale, had little hair, was slightly overweight, and had a round nose.

Dean frowned. He had seen this man before…the previous day. At the bar, sitting with the woman in the borderline provocative dress. That was right! His mind sped, and suddenly it seemed like the pieces in his brain were fitting into place. The woman had been there the night before too…with two men. He'd be willing to bet his sawed-off that those two were the missing couple.

He walked with purpose back outside, where Bobby was just finishing up with the investigator. Bobby leaned toward him as the man walked away. "Find anything?"

"Yeah. Well no…"

"Which is it boy?"

"Keep your mustache on. I didn't find anything exactly, but I saw a picture of the guy. He was in the bar yesterday with a dark-haired woman in a purple dress, who was there our first night with… guess who?"

Bobby's eyes widened. "The couple."

"Yahtzee. She is our common denominator. Whoever she's with ends up being the next target. I should've known, she sticks out like a sore thumb."

Bobby was already making his way to the car. "You couldn'ta known. We were a little sidetracked with your whole cryptic bartender problem, remember? Let's go."

Dean nodded and glanced back at the house for a second. Something caught his eye – the dark flowers lining the walkway to the house. Suddenly he was flashing back to the first house him and Jo investigated, which had hanging black flowers on the front porch…and the bar yesterday, where the woman had sat with Bert, a onyx flower in her hair. This was no coincidence. He took a bag from out of his pocket and inserted a flower head into it, gently pulling it from the ground.

"What are you doing boy?" Bobby was half in, half out of the car, watching with confusion as Dean bent over the rows of flowers. Dean quickly got into the car with him.

"This flower was at the Green house, and in the woman's hair. I don't think it's an accident that it's here too."

Bobby took the flower in a baggy from his hands and looked at it carefully. His eyes narrowed. "I'm pretty sure I've seen these at some of the other crime scenes." He looked back at Dean. "You're on fire today, boy."

Dean smirked. "Thanks old man."

"Don't push yer luck."

The bar had emptied considerably after the lunch rush. It was now 3 p.m., and it was too late for lunch, and too early for dinner, and the bar showed it. There were only two people seated in tables – Frank Wesson, the notorious drunk of the town (not counting Bobby Singer), and the woman who'd made herself a regular these past three weeks. Sara and the other bartenders had just taken to calling her the Woman in Purple, seeing as how she never really let a name slip. Sara played around with the name Lavender Lady in her head – it had a certain ring to it, even though the dress was more a royal purple, much richer in color than lavender.

As she cleaned off the counter with a damp rag, for lack of better things to do, Sara glanced at the woman. She was alone today, which was unusual. Usually she was sitting with someone, sometimes two people. Sara wasn't an idiot. She had worked here long enough, knew enough of the townspeople to know that the people the woman sat always disappeared the next day. There was something about that woman – she could sense it. There wasn't anything she could do about it though – she vowed a long time ago that she wouldn't get involved, wouldn't use her skills anymore. That wasn't her life.

She turned around, organizing and cleaning the rear counter that all the other bartenders neglected. As she did, her mind wandered. She may not be able to do anything about the situation their town was in, but Dean Winchester and his brother were more than capable. They'd handled far worse and walked away victorious. Or so she'd heard. She personally wanted to see it herself – the tales about those two had grown exceedingly tall, and she had to admit she was curious to see if they were worth the hype. Sam she hadn't really gotten a good read on for the few moments he was in the bar, but Dean was another story altogether. When he'd walked into the bar, she sensed him before she even saw him. Confident, cocky, flirtatious, stubborn… charming. They'd hit it off, and she knew even he didn't know exactly why. She could certainly see why the others were so opinionated about him.

She rolled her eyes at her introspection. It wasn't like anything was going to happen anyway, so she didn't know why she was even thinking about it. It was silly of her to even consider it…right? Right. Of course. Stupid. He was off limits, especially to her.

"Excuse me? I was wondering if I could get a refill." Sara jumped a little and turned. The woman in purple sat on one of the barstools, empty glass pushed forward expectantly. Sara hadn't even heard the woman walk across the rooms.

"Of course." Sara grabbed the martini glass and filled it back up, plopping on olives in for taste. When she turned back the woman still had her eyes fixed on her, following her every move. Her head was slightly cocked, and a smile twitched at the corners of her purple lips.

Sara pushed the martini her way. "Need anything else?" The woman's index finger traced along the tip of the martini glass.

"No, I'm all good. Perfect, in fact. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and I'm about to become very, very lucky." The woman's voice was smooth, like water, and wrapped around Sara like a silk noose.

Sara met her eye. "Is that so? I wouldn't be celebrating quite yet if I were you. Who knows who could come along and spoil your luck."

Suddenly the woman was standing beside her, a wicked smile spreading across her face. Her eyes flashed red. "I don't think so. You want to know why? I'll let you in on a little secret. You're going to help me. Because I know your little secret. Or, should I say colossal secret. Let me just say, it's an honor to meet you." Suddenly she dissipated into a cloud of obsidian smoke, twisting around the bartender.

Sara crumpled to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Her vision blurred and darkened, and she couldn't fight the darkness that swirled around her and covered her like a blanket.

Dean and Bobby pulled up beside the bar moments later. Nodding to each other, they stealthily snuck up to the front door, Bobby with a silver- carrying pistol and Dean with the Colt. They both ignored the closed sign posted on the door and the darkened windows and slipped in to the bar. Inside, the silence was overwhelming – usually a bustling center of the town at any given point in time, the bar's quiet seemed stifling.

Dean went and checked out behind the bar while Bobby checked the booths. Finally they grouped back together. Dean shook his head. "I got nothing."

Bobby held up a black leather wallet. "All I found was this – initials on it are F.W. Could be Frank Wesson, he's here most hours of the day. But no sign of our purple clad monster."

Dean glanced around, a frown taking over. "Isn't the bar supposed to be open? Why would it be closed?"

"I dunno. It's possible she was here."

Dean threw up his hands. "Of course she was here Bobby! This is where she's been this whole time! So where could she possibly be now?"

"I don't like it any more than you do Dean. I suggest we head back to my place – we have more evidence than we've ever had, maybe it'll lead us to where she's holing up, or even what she is. Knowing a little more about what we're up against never hurt anybody."

Dean nodded, but he didn't like it. Something about this felt off, like something was in front of his face and he just couldn't place his finger on it. Why was the bar closed? Why wasn't the woman here? Why the flowers? His gut was telling him something was going to happen, or was happening right now. Dean felt it to his very core, and he couldn't shake it as they returned to Bobby's car.

TBC- Read, review, tell me your innermost thoughts, whatever ;)