Author's Note: And I'm back with a new chapter! First I'd like to thank TheBigChillQueen, new21writer, Hasmik1988, geraldine123, NewbieOnTheBlock, Julefor, emebalia, PsychoPicasso, jokergirl94, Eliza Ghost, BranchSuper, Wunjo, agent iz hyper, spnMom, O'erTheHillsandFarAway for their awesome review. Thanks for the support.

Chapter Two: The Start of a New Job

Dean Winchester took a huge bite from his bacon double cheese burger as he reached over to turn the music up even louder than it had been. Which, according to his brother Sam, had already been at ear bleeding levels. But the noise drowned out his inner thoughts, which were rather depressing, and made it impossible for Sam to try and start up yet another conversation about Dean's deal. His little brother just didn't seem to understand that there was no easy out for him and that he'd like to spend his last year not contemplating what eternal damnation was going to be like. So, with one hand on the wheel and one on his burger, Dean tried to immerse himself in the music.

Life it seems will fade away
Drifting further everyday
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free

Okay. Maybe this particular song wasn't helping. But if he turned it off now, Sam would want to talk about why Dean had shut off a Metallica song midway through. Not a conversation he wanted to have.

Things not what they used to be
Missing one inside of me
Deathly loss this can't be real
Can't stand this hell I feel
Emptiness is filling me
To the point of agony
Growing darkness taking dawn
I was me, but now he's gone

And now the song was officially depressing the crap out of him. Oh, well. It was almost over.

No one but me can save myself, but it's too late
Now I can't think, think why I should even try
Yesterday seems as though it never existed
Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye

As soon as the song was over, Dean flipped the cassette player off. He was no longer in the mood to listen to some tunes. Of course Sam took that as a sign that Dean wanted to discuss his feelings.

"You okay Dean?"

"Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, first you turn the radio up and now you turn it off…"

"You're right, Sam. My radio habits are a desperate cry for help. Thank goodness you got to me in time. Let me pull the car over right now so we can hug."

"Fine. I can take a hint. I'm backing off." Sam threw his hands up in a slightly over-exaggerated gesture.

"Good." Dean took another bite of his lunch, but now it just didn't taste as good and there was a heaviness in his stomach that had nothing to do with the greasy food. Sometimes having an entire year to wait and think about what was coming seemed like Hell itself but other times it felt as though the three hundred and sixty-five days would be gone if he blinked.

"Hey, I think I got something." Sam's voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

"If it's an STD then I don't want to know about it."

"Ha ha." Sam rolled his eyes, and then turned to look back at his laptop screen. "No, there's been three deaths in a small town not too far from here."

"People die all the time, Sam."

"Yeah well, not by having the skin peeled from their faces and their intestines ripped out they don't."

"Ouch."

"The victims' families all say that everything seemed normal the night before and that they didn't hear anything. The first guy got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the second victim was a college student who was out with her friends until almost midnight, and the third guy came home from work late and stayed up to watch the television."

"So they were all up late. Anything else match up with them? You know, besides their gruesome deaths."

Sam studied the information before him. "Uh, let's see. Eliot Wilcox was a forty-three year old bank manager with a wife, no kids. Very well off and extremely well liked by his employees. Patricia Donato, a twenty year old student at the community college. Lived with her parents and was in serious debt with student loans. According to this article, her and her friends were in trouble last year for hazing new students. And finally, there's George Dayton, a biochemist at a local lab. Middle class, married with three children. No one seems to really like or dislike the guy."

"So, no connection."

"Not that I'm seeing."

"Okay then. First step will be to speak with the families. Make sure we're not missing anything."

Sam nodded in agreement. "So, who are we going to be this time?"

…

…supernatural…supernatural...supernatural...supernatural…supernatural…

…

"I don't understand. I've already spoken with the police. Can't you just get my statement from them?" Crystal Dayton asked, standing in the doorway to her well-kept two story home.

"We're not with the police." Dean explained. "We're profilers with the FBI. And we need to speak to you in person just in case there's anything left out of the police reports."

"We also may need to ask you different questions to get a more complete picture of what happened." Sam added.

"I can tell you what happened. Someone broke in during the night and killed my husband. End of story."

"Don't you want to know who did it?" Sam inquired.

"Is knowing going to change anything?"

"Well, no. But…"

"Then what's the point." The attractive brunette was about to slam the door in their faces when Dean stepped forward and stuck his foot in the doorway.

"Ma'am, even if it's too late to help your husband, we believe that this is the work of a serial killer and that more people are going die if he's not stopped."

The woman seemed to consider that for a moment and then, with a sigh, she opened the door to let them in.

"Have a seat." She offered when they entered the living room.

Both brothers sat down on an overstuffed couch that looked far more comfortable than it really was.

"Did your husband act any different when he came home that night?" Dean asked.

"No. It was pretty much business as usual."

"Was it usual for him to come home so late?" Sam inquired.

"Yeah. He got off from work at six, just like always. Then stopped at the bar for a drink, just like always."

"He always goes to the bar on Friday nights?"

"Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday nights, Monday nights, you get the idea?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam replied politely.

"Mrs. Dayton, is it possible that someone from his workplace or the bar had a grudge against him?" Dean spoke up.

"It's very possible, but I wouldn't know who that person was. I've never met any of his coworkers. Nor do I go to the bar."

"Does he always go to the same bar?"

"Not always. But I think he usually goes to Travis's Tavern. He and his friend Mike go there often."

"Does Mike have a last name?"

"Yeah, Mike Norton. They've been friends forever. But you know, lately George said that Mike's been on his case. He felt that Mike was jealous of his better job and house."

Sam leaned forwards. "You think Mr. Norton may have had something against your husband?"

"No. No way. Mike is as sweet as they come. Besides, when I called his home to inform him about George, his wife told me that he'd collapsed and was in some kind of coma."

"When did that happen?" Dean questioned.

"The same night that my husband was murdered."

Switching tracks, Dean looked around the living room. "So, did you notice anything missing or out of place after you found you husband?"

"Nothing was stolen, no. But… well, this is going to sound strange, but there was a smashed pumpkin next to George's body. And it wasn't one of the three that we bought for our kids. Those were still on the porch outside. The police say that there were no prints on it, but why would a killer bring a pumpkin to a house where they intended to kill someone just to smash it on the floor."

"I don't know ma'am, but that information will certainly help with our psychological profile. Thank you for your time." Dean stood and flashed the woman his most charming smile. "Can I please use your bathroom before we leave?"

"Sure. It's up the stairs and the second door on your left."

"Thank you." Dean smiled again, then proceeded up the stairs.

Once out of her line of sight, Dean pulled out his emf detector and turned it on. Nothing. Just then, one of the bedroom doors on the right side of the hall opened. Dean shoved the emf detector back into his pocket. A small boy around five or six years old stepped out.

"Are you another cop?"

"Actually I'm with the FBI." Dean lied as he knelt down to be at eye level with the child.

"Like on the TV shows?" The boy seemed impressed.

"Just like that. What's your name?"

"Toby." The boy looked thoughtful for a moment, then he seemed to get nervous. "Are you gonna arrest me?"

"No. Why would I arrest you?"

"'Cause I'm not sad that Daddy's dead and that makes me a bad person."

"I'm sure you're not a bad person." Dean assured him. "Maybe you just don't feel sad because it's too soon after a bad thing happened and you just need some time."

"No. I'm not sad 'cause he used to hit me a lot and say bad words and I'm glad he can't anymore." Toby stated it so matter-of-factly that it broke Dean's heart just a little.

"Well then, your daddy was the bad person, not you."

"You sure?"

"I'm an FBI agent, so I'm always sure."

"Oh, good. 'Cause I didn't wanna go to jail."

The boy smiled at Dean and then walked past him and into the bathroom. Dean hurried back down the stairs and motioned for Sam that it was time to leave.

Once they were back in the Impala, Dean turned to address Sam, but his brother spoke first.

"She didn't seem that broken up about her husband's death."

"Well, I doubt she is. I ran into one of the kids upstairs and found out the George was one hell of a bastard. Abused his son, probably the other kids too."

"So maybe he conjured something that did this?"

"I somehow doubt the six year old is into the dark arts. Besides, the other victims have no connection to this family."

"And then there's the mysteriously comatose friend."

"And the smashed pumpkin." Dean added.

"So what the hell are we looking at?"

"Well, at least two of the three victims were jerks. Maybe the third guy has some secret that makes him an asshole too."

Sam nodded. "So we look into him. Maybe whatever's doing this has a victim type."

"And let's stop by the hospital and check on coma guy."

Dean started the car and pulled away from the curb. He was glad to have a new job to take his mind off of other things. He just wished that this case made a little more sense.

Author's Note Part Two: Thanks for reading, I hope you all enjoyed. The song in this chapter was 'Fade to Black' by Metallica. Please, please, please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks so much