**Hey! So this chapter is really, really short because I split up their viewpoints a lot! The next one will probably be a lot longer than this one. Sorry if the different viewpoints get confusing. I tried to make it as easy to follow as possible. Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing to this! You guys are truly amazing!**

The Usual Suspects

I lay on the bed wishing I'd gone with Dean to search Karen's house again. He had left while Sam and I were still trying to dig up stuff on the computer; he should've been waiting for us at the hotel, but he wasn't, which made me uneasy. Finally, I'd had enough and stood, facing Sam, who'd been pacing the room like a caged tiger.

"What're you doing?" He questioned, pausing in his pacing to regard me curiously as I grabbed a duffel and began throwing my clothes into it.

"Packing. Something's not right. I think we should find somewhere else to hole up for the night," I explained, throwing some of Dean's clothes in as well before zipping it. Sam snatched another duffel off the floor and began packing it with his stuff. That was when I heard it: an odd rustling and shifting outside. Then many, many footsteps. "Sam, I think the police is here… and maybe SWAT too," I backed away from the door and ran into the bathroom, opening the big window above the sink.

"Hurry up," Sam ordered as I popped out the screen, throwing him a scathing look. What did he think I was doing? "Go. I'll throw you the stuff," I slid out through the window, my heart pounding a little faster as the footsteps reached the second floor.

"Come on. They're almost here," I hissed desperately at him as he tossed me my bag before slamming the window shut and locking it. "Sam!" I heard the splintering of wood as the door was bashed in. 'Go' Sam mouthed to me through the window, and I had no choice but to pick up the duffel and run.

-3rd Person-

Sam stood by the window, looking out over the buildings that stood behind the precinct. He couldn't help but wonder if Mel made it to another motel for the night. He hoped she did; he hoped she was safe. The door opened, and he turned to find a middle-aged woman walking through the door, gently closing it behind her.

"Thought you might be thirsty," She told him, setting down the cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Okay, so you're the good cop. Where's the bad cop?" Sam questioned, throwing his arms out to the side and ignoring her act of kindness towards him.

"Oh, he's with your brother," She answered promptly, making Sam grow slightly uneasy. Dean and Mel were better at this sort of thing than he was. They had this way of being infuriating while remaining in control of the situation and looking for escapes. Sam was better piecing things together or researching on a computer.

"Okay. And you're holding us why?" He asked, knowing that they couldn't hold them if they didn't charge them with anything. He racked his brain trying to remember anything he could about his prelaw courses.

"He's being held on suspicion of murder," She informed him matter-of-factly. "And, you? We'll see," She concluded with the smallest of shrugs.

"Murder?" He echoed, leaning on the table and making his voice sound shocked.

"You sound genuinely surprised, or are you that good of an actor?" She guessed that he was lying faster than he'd expected her to.

"Who is he supposed to have murdered?" He went on, ignoring her correct suspicions. She hadn't mentioned Mel so far, which meant that they most likely hadn't caught her. Sam doubted they even knew who she was, but they would after this was over. She hadn't packed all her things, which meant they would know someone else was in the room. They would know a woman was in the room.

"We'll get around to that," She nodded patiently.

"You can't just hold us here without formal charges," He did his best to sound offended as he leaned back, off the table.

"Well, actually, we can for forty-eight hours, but you, being a prelaw student, would know that," The amount of knowledge she had on him was unnerving to say the least. "I know all about you, Sam. You're twenty-three years old. No job, no home address," She began listing, reading off the file in her hands. "Your mother died when you were a baby. Your father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's the case of your brother, Dean, whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like," She fixed him with her gaze, and he leaned back on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging. "Shy? No problem. I'll keep going. Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride," She sighed and closed the file, giving Sam a bad feeling about what was coming next.

"Then, about a year ago, there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality - Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid, left behind everything," His muscles tensed at the mention of his previous girlfriend.

"I needed some time off… to deal," He tried to appeal to her humanity. "So I'm taking a road trip with my brother," He didn't mention Mel in case they didn't already know about her.

"But it's not just with your brother, is it?" Sam frowned, pretending to be confused. "Sam, in the apartment we found women's clothing," Sam didn't speak. "Are they trophies?" It took Sam a minute to process what she was saying, and afterwards the horror on his face wasn't faked.

"No!" He objected, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Then who do they belong to?" Silence. "A friend? Girlfriend?" She prompted, but still Sam said nothing. "You know, the screen to the bathroom window was taken off. Is that how she escaped?" No reply. "How's the road trip going?" She changed tactics, and Sam felt as though he could breathe again.

"Great. I mean… we saw the second larges ball of twine in the continental U.S. Awesome," He nodded, pretty sure he was beginning to get under this woman's skin. He sat down in the seat, watching as she came around the table and set down the file.

"We ran Dean's fingerprints through IAFIS," Sam nodded again, unconcerned. "Got over a dozen possible hits," She informed him smugly, and he couldn't help but grin at her arrogance.

"'Possible' hits, which makes them worthless," He reminded her.

"But makes you wonder, what are we gonna find when we run your prints?" He let out a small mocking laugh that made her scowl.

"Yeah, well, uh…" He banged his cast against the table in false cheerfulness. "You be sure to let me know, all right? May I?" He pointed to his coffee, and she nodded. "Great,"

"Sam, you seem like a good kid," This angle was so overplayed, he could barely suppress the eye roll. "It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death after torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be,"

"You want me to turn against my own brother?" He summed up, sounding incredulous. It wouldn't be believable unless he made her work for his 'confession'.

"No," She shook her head, getting off the table. "We already caught him cold, red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces. Like the woman, for instance,"

"Why would I do that?" He asked, looking down and pretending to be swayed by her words.

"Because I can talk to the D.A., make a deal for you. You can get on with your life. Dean's as good as gone," He took a deep breath after her words and looked down at his hands, thinking it over. Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers, and he began the lie.

"My dad and Tony Giles were old friends…"

-1st Person-

"Hey," The man turned to face me, and I held up my badge for him to scrutinize. "I'm Agent Russo with the FBI," He glanced at me and then back to the badge, frowning.

"Don't you feds usually travel with a partner?" I nodded, looking past him the police officers that were crawling all over the scene.

"My partner's checking out a lead, so I'm here," I told him brusquely.

"Lead? We caught the guy over the body," The officer protested, and I fixed him with a look that could freeze water.

"There are still a lot of unanswered questions," I turned to look out over the parking lot, my eyes immediately zeroing in on the Impala. "Which one is their car?" The man turned to point to the Impala.

"We took the keys off of the man we found in here," He gestured back to the apartment, and I nodded thoughtfully. "I can walk you through what we know so far," The man suggested weakly, and I nodded again. "We suspect there was a woman with them, but as far as I know, neither have given any information up about her or her whereabouts," Imagine that. I suppressed a smile as he went on. "We think she escaped through the bathroom window before we came in,"

"What makes you say that?" I questioned as we walked through the motel room to the back.

"The screen was off," He replied assuredly.

"And you didn't find anything that may have belonged to Karen or Tony? A lot of these killers like to keep trophies of their victims," And that summed up my one episode of Culprit Minds. It seemed to work, for the officer accepted it as natural.

"No, nothing," He answered.

"What about the woman?" I needed to know more about what they had on me. "Didn't she leave a trail?"

"There was a car stolen from a guy two rooms down. A chevy colorado 2005. We put out an APB on it already," That didn't matter. After I'd stolen the chevy, I'd driven to the nearest motel and took a taxi to another one before taking a second taxi to the Day's Inn, the first motel listed in the yellow pages. I checked in under the name Laura Allcotte. It was how Sam, Dean and I found each other when we were separated.

"Okay. I'll need the keys to their car," The officer looked surprised at that.

"Why? I can have one of my officers drive it to impound," I was shaking my head before he was even done speaking.

"I already told my partner to meet me at impound, so we can search the car," The officer hesitated a moment more before turning around and giving an order to one of his men, who quickly rushed away.

"You'll have the keys shortly," He promised me. "So what was that lead you were talking about?" He asked, turning to a new subject.

"The St. Louis murders. My partner went up there to interview some of the witnesses again. See if he could uncover anything new. His plane just landed twenty minutes ago," I informed him calmly. His man came back with the keys, and he handed them to me without any further questions. In return, I thanked him and descended the stairs. I waited until I was a good two minutes away from the crime scene to take off the black wig that I'd been wearing, and I couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh, wishing I'd followed my gut when all this started.

2 Day Earlier

"I'm just not sure," I told him, shrugging. I didn't know how else to explain the sinking feeling in my gut as I read the newspaper article about the man who'd been murdered.

"What's there not to be sure about? It's a hunt," Dean replied, and I knew I was going to loose this one. I had no evidence that we shouldn't go except for the tug in my gut, and that was hardly evidence.

"Here you go," Sam set our coffees down in front of Dean and I before I could respond.

"Anthony Giles," Dean announced, flipping the newspaper around to face Sam.

"Who's Anthony Giles?" He questioned.

"A lawyer in Baltimore. He was working late in his office. When they found him, his throat was slit, but the room was untouched," I summed up for him as his eyes scanned the document.

"Huh. No DNA, no prints," He added, sounding as though he were warming up to the case.

"Keep reading. It gets better," Dean told him.

"Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant," Sam leaned back in his seat, and I knew that he was for the case.

"So I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes…" Dean began.

"Or it's an invisible killer," Sam finished, glancing at me.

"My favorite kind," Dean agreed. "What do you think, Scully?" I shrugged at Dean's question. Honestly? I felt as though something would go wrong, but then again, something always goes wrong. Our job is always dangerous. I shook off the feeling and nodded.

"I think we should go," I decided confidently. "And I'm a brunette," I added to Dean as we got up, and he shrugged.

"You can still be Scully," I grinned and shook my head at him.

"You just want to be Mulder," He chuckled, holding up his hands in a 'guilty' gesture and making me laugh lightly. He lowered his arms, so they could wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His lips covered mine gently.

-3rd Person-

"So," Sam interrupted his version of the story as he remembered them together. An all too familiar feeling rose in his stomach, and he shoved it back down with difficulty. "It would've been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time,"

"So, tell me what happened next," Detective Ballard prompted from where she was sitting across from him. With difficulty, Sam focused on the story he had to tell.

"Okay, uh, that's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her, you know?" He began, recalling what really happened.

1 Day Earlier

"Insurance?" The woman sniffled, making Sam feel slightly guilty. "I totally forgot about the insurance," She took off her glasses, beginning to read the paper Dean had given her.

"We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand," She nodded hurriedly, sniffling again.

"Sure," She replied to Sam's concern.

"If you could just tell us everything you remember about that night, we could be out of here in a couple minutes," Mel sounded sincerely sorry for her loss, and Karen shot her a grateful glance.

"Tony and I were supposed to have dinner. He called and said that he was having computer troubles and that he had to work late, That was it," She recounted the events.

"Do you have any idea who could've done this to him?" Sam questioned her, and she shook her head quickly.

"No. It's like I told the police. I have no idea," She sniffled loudly again.

"Did Tony mention anything unusual to you in the days before his death?" Dean prompted her from where he was sitting beside Mel. "Unusual?" She echoed, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"Yeah, like strange," He elaborated unhelpfully.

"Strange?" She repeated, shaking her head uncomprehendingly.

"You know, Karen, weird. Weird noises, visions, anything like that?" Sam's eyes widened fractionally, and he met Mel's surprised ones. He cleared his throat loudly, causing Dean to glance at him and then at Mel. Mel shifted slightly, and Sam knew that she had taken his hand under the table. She did that whenever he needed to calm down; it always worked. Sam ignored the feeling that rose in his stomach, and continued to give Dean a warning look.

"He had a nightmare the day before he died," Karen told them, shrugging as if she didn't think that mattered.

"Did he tell you what it was about?" Mel questioned gently.

"Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night, and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed. He blinked. She was gone. I mean, it was just a nightmare," Karen stammered uncertainly.

"Did he say what she looked like?" Dean asked almost against his will.

"What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?" Karen began to get upset. Sam met Mel's eyes again, and he could see her racking her brain for a viable answer.

"Well, it's just that sometimes dreams reflect reality. It's possible that your husband was being followed, and may have seen who it was without realizing it," Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was constantly impressed by her quick thinking.

"You think that's possible?" A note of hope had crept into Karen's voice.

"Maybe," Mel answered. "But you need to describe her exactly as he did,"

"Uh, okay. Um, he said she was pale, and she had dark, red eyes,"

-Present Day-

"So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything, and that was it. End of story," Sam finished, shrugging as if there was nothing more to tell.

"Sam, I am trying to help you here, but you have got to be honest with me. Now, we have an eyewitness, someone who saw two men, fitting your and your brother's descriptions, breaking into Giles' office. The eyewitness also said there was a woman with you," Her voice rose as she spoke.

"Okay, look. Karen called us later. Said there was some stuff she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in. Like a picture of the two of them in Paris and some other stuff. Look it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key," He told her, completely ignoring her attempt to discover who the woman was.

1/2 a Day Earlier

Mel picked the lock to the office door with ease before pushing it open and ducking under the yellow caution tape. She swung the flashlight around the room, freezing as it landed on a huge bloodstain on the carpet to the left.

"Hey," Sam turned to her, following her flashlight beam to the blood on the floor. "This must be where his body was found," She continued in a whisper.

"'Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was visible.'" Sam read off the article as Mel and Dean started searching the room again. Dean let out a low whistle of surprise.

"What do you think? Vengeful spirit, underline 'vengeful'?" Dean suggested, but Sam wasn't so sure.

"Maybe. He did see that woman at the foot of his bed," Sam mused, glancing at Mel, who was standing over the printer, holding one of the papers. "Find something?"

"Yeah. Check this out," She handed Sam a paper as Dean looked over her shoulder at the one she was holding. "Dana Shulps," She read the words that were repeated throughout the page.

"What's that, a name?" Sam questioned.

"Not sure, but there's a lot of pages here," She held up four more printed pages of 'Danashulps'.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," Mel let out a quiet laugh, and Sam turned away so the couple couldn't see his eye roll. How she thought his brother was funny was beyond him. Sam turned his attention on the desk only to discover strange smudge marks. On a hunch, he exhaled, blowing hot air onto the desk and fogging it up. Dana Shulps.

"Wow," He breathed turning to Dean and Mel, who were looking at the name written on the desk. "I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird," Sam told them.

"Giles' might have known her," Mel suggested.

"Maybe it's the name of our pale, red-eyed mystery girl," Sam pondered as Dean dumped a pile of files on the desk beside him.

"Well, let's see what we can see," That turned out to be nothing. After an hour of looking Sam was sitting by the computer with Mel behind him while Dean was searching through the files. "There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps, or any other kind of friggin' Shulps," Dean snapped in annoyance.

"Wonderful," Mel muttered at the same time Sam let out a sarcastic, "Great,"

"What did you two get?" Dean questioned.

"Nothing," Mel responded. "There is no record of any Dana Shulps in Baltimore in the past 50 years," She sounded half dejected half annoyed as she relayed the information.

"So, what now?" Dean asked.

"Well, I think Mel and I are pretty close to cracking Giles' password," Sam told him. "Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" Dean's eyes flicked between him and Mel for a moment.

"By 'close' you mean…?" Dean prompted, hoping for two or three minutes.

"Thirty minutes maybe," Sam answered, purposely overestimating the time. Dean checked his watch for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"Awesome," He muttered sarcastically. "So, I guess I just get to, uh, hang out," He sat across from Sam and Mel as he spoke. "That's awesome," Sam had to hide a grin as Dean began to get impatient within the first two seconds of sitting. Mel and Sam spoke in low voices as Dean began clicking his tongue.

"Dude, seriously," Sam snapped when the noises Dean was making became too distracting for him to handle.

"Why don't you go talk to Karen again?" Mel suggested, and Dean stood, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

"Yeah, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps," He agreed, leaning over the desk to kiss Mel briefly.

"Love you," She smiled softly as she said the words, and Sam turned back to the computer.

"Love you, too," He answered with a new affection in his voice that he only used with Mel. He heard them kiss again before Dean turned towards the door, glancing back only to shine the flashlight at Sam.

"Keep going, Sparky," Sam sent him a look as he left. Sam doubted Mel knew how different he was without her. She only ever knew Dean when he was with her, but Sam had seen him when she was gone. It hadn't happened often. A few times when they were teenagers her dad had taken her to hunt with him and Jez, and Dean had become snappier, more rash. He'd even almost gotten into an argument with their dad. Then at the lake when she'd almost died… A shudder ran through his body as he thought of that. He blinked into reality and focused on the computer.

Present Day

-1st Person-

I swept my chestnut brown hair up into a high ponytail and put on a pair of dark rimmed glasses, looking myself in the mirror. I straightened my black blazer and walked out the door to the apartment, making sure the keys to the Impala were in my purse as well as the pad that I'd written down what I'd found. I'd hidden the Impala in an empty lot and was now on my way to the precinct to try to break out Sam and Dean. The drive was only ten minutes, and I parked right outside the police station.

"Marsha Riley, public defenders office. I'm here for the…" I glanced down, pretending to consult my notes for a minute. "Winchester brothers?" I looked up at the man, and he nodded, waving me through. "Oh, before I forget, another man may come by from the public defenders office. Can you tell him he's been reassigned to the Duley case?" The police officer nodded, looking bored. "Thanks,"

"Can you take her to the Winchester brothers," The officer asked one of the men at the door.

"Which one?" He questioned, and the officer at the desk looked at me.

"The older one," I glanced down again at my 'notes' that really contained anagrams for Dana Shulps. "Dean?" He nodded, turning and walking me through the precinct.

"Good luck with him. I hear he's up for five counts of murder, not to mention the grave desecrations and fraud-" The man began.

"Yes, I know," I interrupted him brusquely as we reached the door. "I read the file. If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my client alone now," The man nodded, waving me towards the door before walking away. I had the pleasure of seeing Dean's eyes widen fractionally as I came through the door and sat down across from him. "Mr. Winchester? I'm Marsha Riley with the public defender's office,"

"Thank god. I'm saved," He winked at me, making me fight against a smile.

"Here's the charges you are facing," I spun the file to face him, so his body was between the camera and the file. On the sheet of paper was the rearrangements of the letters D-A-N-A-S-H-U-L-P-S. I'd researched all of them and all I could find was Ashland. The excess letters were U-P-S. I'd circled it and wrote a note beside it.

"Has Sam seen this?" Dean asked.

"Your brother? No, I was going to see him next," I told him, not sure if the police were listening to the conversation. Dean glanced around, seeming to get the same idea.

"Look, I'm not getting out of this, but he might," I frowned for a split second before the meaning sunk in.

"Well, that would be a great escape," I grinned, and Dean laughed. I closed the file in front of him and crossed to the door. It took me a minute to find Sammy's room, and when I did I was again satisfied to see the shock on his face.

"Sam," I sat down across from him, handing him the file. "You ready, Hilts?" I reached across the table to take his hand and press the key to the car in it. "My car is the black volvo. Wait for me in the back and keep your head down," I let go just as the door opened to reveal the smaller, female detective.

"We need you with the other one," I plastered a look of confusion on my face and stood, nodding and following her out the door, shutting it behind me.

"Counselor," The other detective nodded to me. "Your boy decided to confess,"

"Mr. Winchester, I have to strongly advise against that," Dean just grinned at me and turned back to the male detective.

"Talk directly into the camera. Start by stating your name for the record," The detective informed, and Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward.

"My name is Dean Winchester. I am an aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and a beautiful woman," He winked at me, and I clenched my teeth together to keep from laughing. I wondered if I could get a copy of this tape. "And I did not kill anyone, but I know who did - or rather what did. Of course, it can't be for sure because our investigation was interrupted, but our working theory is that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit," He continued, and I couldn't help the small smile that tugged persistently at my features.

"Excuse me?" The female asked incredulously.

"You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost. Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did, too, but, see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason, it's trying to tell us something, but communicating across the veil ain't easy. And sometimes the spirits, they get things jumbled. You remember 'redrum'. Same concept. You know, it could be word fragments. Other times… it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name: Dana Shulps," I glanced at the others as Dean held up the piece of paper he'd written the anagram on. The female detective caught my eye. She looked nervous. "But now, we think it's a street: Ashland," Why would she look nervous? "Whatever is going on, I'm betting it started there," Dean concluded with a big smile.

"You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes," The male detective glowered darkly at Dean, who just smiled back.

"I'm not I'm not joking, Ponch," He replied calmly.

"You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis," He yelled at Dean.

"Oh, yeah," Dean turned back to the camera. "That wasn't me either. That was a shapeshifter creature that only looked like me," It was getting harder and harder not to laugh. The male grabbed Dean's collar, hauling him off the chair and slamming him against the wall.

"Hey!" I protested, going around the table to stand beside them with my arms folded.

"Pete, that is enough!" The female snapped, and Pete loosened his grip slightly. I frowned curiously, scrutinizing the female detective briefly before coming to the inevitable conclusion. They were sleeping together.

"You asked for the truth," Dean smartassed, not helping things. Pete shoved him into the wall again before backing up.

"Lock his ass up," My cue to leave. I held Dean's gaze for a split second before disappearing out the door. I hurried out of the precinct and into my already unlocked car, pulling it out of the driveway as fast as I could without crashing. When I'd gone two blocks, Sam straightened in the backseat and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the front seat. The drive was short, and I parked right in front of the motel room I'd rented. An hour later we were still researching deaths on Ashland street. So far we'd gotten a few photos of women who might fit the description of the red-eyed girl. Then there was a knock on the door, making me tense. There was no way Dean could've gotten out already. I shook my head to get rid of my paranoia. It was probably just room service.

"Hey, we're-" I began, opening the door, but the words died in my throat as I took in the woman standing in front of me.

"You?" The woman questioned in shock. "I need help," She continued hurriedly before I could reply with an equally surprised 'you?'. She came in and showed us her wrists after she'd explained roughly what happened.

"These showed up after you saw it?" Sam checked.

"Yeah, I guess," She stammered, looking utterly lost. It was a look I knew well. All the people that discover the supernatural wear that look for at least a couple hours.

"Okay, tell us exactly what you saw," I instructed her.

"You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive, and you're a criminal. I should be arresting you both," She told us, sounding confused by her own actions.

"All right, well, you know what? You can arrest us later after you live through this, but right now, you got to talk to us. Okay?" He spoke confidently, and she seemed to accept his words, for she nodded determinedly.

"Great, now, tell us exactly what this spirit looked like," I told her, and the woman looked down, remembering.

"She was, um, really pale… and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like this deep, dark red. It appeared like she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn't. It was just… a lot of blood," She recalled, sinking down onto the bed.

"What about this," I grabbed the photos we'd printed from the table and held them out to her. "These are all the girls who've ever died or gone missing from Ashland street,"

"How'd you get those?" I hadn't expected her to snap at me like that, and I didn't have an answer. "Those are from crime scenes and booking photos,"

"You have your job. We have ours," Sam answered, causing me to smile. "Take them. We need you to look through them and see if you recognize anyone," She took them from me hesitantly and flipped through the pictures. She suddenly stopped, her face transforming from disapproving to slight fear and recognition.

"This is her," She announced, handing the photos back to me with the ghost's picture on top. "I'm sure of it,"

"Claire Becker?" Sam read over my shoulder. "Twenty-eight years old. Disappeared about eight or nine months ago,"

"but I don't even know her. Why would she come after me?" The woman questioned us, shaking her head.

"Before she died she was arrested twice for heroin. Did you work narcotics?" I asked her, trying to find a connection between her and Claire Becker.

"Yeah, Pete and I did before homicide," Sam held up the picture, so she could see it again.

"You ever bust her?" He questioned, but she was already shaking her head before he'd finished speaking.

"Not that I remember," She told us.

"It says on the official report that the last time she was seen was entering 2911 Ashland Street, but the police didn't find anything when they searched the place," I handed her the report as I spoke.

"Guess we got to check it out, see if we can find her body," I nodded at Sam's words, and we stood up from the chairs.

"What?" The female detective sounded shocked. I kept forgetting she didn't know a lot about this stuff.

"Yeah, we have to salt and burn her bones to put her spirit to rest," I informed her like I was telling her it would rain tomorrow.

"Of course we do," She muttered sardonically.

-SPN-

"So, what exactly are we looking for?" The detective, whose name was Diana, asked us quizzically as we swept the dusty, abandoned building with our flashlights.

"We usually know when we find it," There was a clank from upstairs, and I frowned, assuming it was just the wind or something. Then there was another clank. I frowned again and began ascending the steps to check out what it was.

"What is it? Do you hear something?" Sam followed me up the stairs, leaving Diana alone on the bottom floor.

"No," I told him, realizing the window was open. I shut it. "Nothing,"

"Mel! Sam!" We whirled and rushed down the stairs to where Diana was pressed against a wooden beam, looking terrified.

"What? What happened? Did you see something?" My rapid questions jumbled with Sam's, making them hard to discern, but she seemed to get the point.

"Claire. She was here," She told us breathlessly.

"Did she attack you?" Sam questioned at the same time I asked, "Did she hurt you?"

"No. No, she was just reaching out to me," She told us, getting her breath back. "She was over there by the window," She walked over to the window with Sam and I following more cautiously. "Here, help me move this," Sam grabbed the side of the shelves and pulled it out of the way effortlessly. "Our little mystery word," Diana mused as she shined the light over the letters s-u-p. Something clicked in my mind and I turned to see the letters shined on the brick wall across from us.

"That's why she added the extra letters," I realized. "That must be where the body is," I heard the familiar whine as Sam pulled the EMF out of his pocket.

"What's that?" Diana asked curiously.

"Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies," Sam explained as we approached the wall.

"So, if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?" The detective checked, and both Sam and I nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah. Well, that's the theory," Sam replied, and the three of us watched as the EMF sky rocketed when he put it next to the brick wall where the letters SUP were shined. Sam got an iron rod from the ground and began busting through the brick wall. He threw down the rod, and I shined a flashlight through the hole.

"Yeah, there's something down there," I announced before biting my lip. "You know, this has been bothering me,"

"Well, you are digging up a corpse," I smiled briefly at her naivety.

"No, that's just an average day, actually," I grinned as I spoke the truth, expecting her to look at me like I was crazy.

"Then what?" Was the question I got asked instead.

"No spirit we've ever encountered led us to their remains," I spoke a bit louder than usual as Sam bashed the rest of the bricks in.

"All right, here. Mel, a little help?" Sam prompted and I reached into the hole with him to yank out a body wrapped in a green cloth and lay it gently on the ground. I flipped out a knife and cut the ropes that encircled the body, keeping the cloth from falling off. Sam pulled away the cloth to reveal the corpse as I put my knife away.

"Her wrists," Sam mused as Diana held out hers. "Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours," Then, Diana reached down and fingered the corpses necklace lightly. "Does that necklace mean something to you?" Sam asked her.

"I've seen it before," She answered tightly. "It's rare. It was custom-made over on Carson street," She reached around her neck and pulled her own necklace from inside her shirt. "I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me," Sam stood and began pacing.

"Now this all adds up," I pieced together the pieces we had as I stood.

"I'm sorry?" She questioned, a note of defensiveness slipping into her voice.

"Yeah, Claire isn't a vengeful spirit. She's a warning," I realized, and Sam nodded, stopping his pacing as he caught on as well.

"Excuse me?" Diana stood also.

"Claire's not doing the killing. She's warning people who are about to die," Everything was suddenly becoming painfully clear; Diana would not like this. "Claire just wants justice against her killer. That must be why she led us here,"

"She wants us to know who her killer is," Sam added, glancing at Diana, hoping she'd come to the conclusion by herself. She just looked surprised and confused. "Detective, how much do you know about your partner?"

"Oh, my god," She whispered, remembering something.

"What?" Sam inquired.

"About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it, but whoever did it would need someone to fence their product,"

"You mean, like a heroin dealer? Like Claire?" I questioned, glancing down at the body in the cloth.

-SPN-

"Okay, thanks," Diana hung up the phone as we sped towards the police station in her car. She made a quick right turn, making me frown. "Pete just left the precinct with Dean," My heart froze at her last words.

"What?" I snapped, tensing.

"He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling, but he won't answer the radio," She told us, sounding half apologetic half pissed off.

"He has a radio? So he took a police vehicle?" I questioned.

"Yeah," She confirmed.

"So it must have a LoJack. It just needs to be turned on," I reasoned, and she was dialing the number even before I finished speaking. It took us twenty minutes to get on the highway five miles behind the van. "Speed up," I ordered her, not caring how I sounded. "It's stopped," The blinking light wasn't moving anymore, which made my heart pound a bit harder in my chest. Dean would probably be able to stall for a short time, but Pete would want to get it over with quickly. Three miles. Two. Diana cut off the lights and parked the car a minute away from where the police transfer car was pulled over to the side of the road. We sprinted towards the two figures behind the van. In the darkness, I could just make out one of them on his knees in handcuffs while the other one stood with a gun pointed at the man on the floor's head.

"Pete!" Diana yelled, drawing the detective's attention away from Dean. "Put the gun down,"

"Diana? How'd you find me?" He sounded genuinely sorry she had to be here. He aimed the gun at Dean again, and my heart constricted.

"I know about Claire," She told him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He denied.

"Put the gun down!" She yelled again, more forcefully this time.

"No, I don't think so," Pete shook his head. "You're fast. Pretty sure I'm faster,"

"Why are you doing this?" She switched tactics.

"I didn't do anything, Diana," He objected, looking at her again.

"It's a little late for that," Her tone remained steely.

"It wasn't my fault. Claire was gonna turn me in. I had no choice," I held Dean's gaze, trying to ignore how his fate rested in the hands of a detective we'd known for only a few hours.

"And Tony? Karen?" She prompted.

"Same thing," He snapped. "Tony scrubbed the money. Then he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything," I took a small step to my right, and Dean shook his head emphatically. "It was a mess. I had to clean it up. I just panicked,"

"How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?"

"There's a way out," His eyes were wide and willed Diana to believe him. "This Dean kid is a friggin' gift. We can pin the whole thing on him. Okay? No trial, nothing," I took another small step to my right. If I could just reach the woods. Dean shook his head again, glancing at Sammy. "Just one more dead scumbag,"

"Hey!" Dean protested as I took another. Sam grabbed my arm to stop me. Pete turned the gun back on Dean, who raised his hands slightly in surrender.

"No one will question it. Diana, please," He continued to beg. "I still love you," I gripped the knife in my back pocket and flipped it out as Diana lowered her gun. "Thank you. Thank you," I met Dean's eyes as Pete turned back to him. I tried to take a step forward, but Sam's grip tightened on my arm, preventing me from moving. Then, there was a loud gunshot and Pete dropped to the floor, clutching his leg in pain while Dean rolled away from him. I was at Dean's side in a moment, kneeling beside him and drawing out my lock pick.

"Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?" I heard Diana snap at her former lover, and I couldn't help the slight smile the played on my lips. The smile disappeared when I heard her scream and a thud. I whirled around to see Pete had tackled her to the floor, and the gun had skirted away from them. I made a move for it, but Pete was already lunging for it. He pointed it at me and then Sam, switching it every so often as he talked.

"Don't do it! Don't do it!" He warned, getting up unevenly. I was still crouching in front of Dean, and I put my hands up in surrender, knowing I'd left the lock pick in the cuffs. Then a figure behind Pete caught my attention, and my eyes widened as I realized who it was. Claire Becker. Pete spun to face her with the gun pointed, not that it would do any good. Bang. My eyes snapped to Diana, who was holding the handgun that had just fired the deadly shot. Pete fell to the ground with a dull thud.

-SPN-

Diana was still crouched by Pete's corpse, looking pale and horrified. Finally, she rose slowly, heading towards us with the same expression on her face. I didn't blame her; she just killed her lover.

"Are you okay?" I asked her sympathetically, leaning back on Dean's chest. His arms tightened around my waist in response.

"Not really," She replied, stopping a few feet from us. "The death omen, Claire, what happens to her now?" She questioned.

"It should be over. She should be at rest," Sam told her gently.

"So, uh, what now, officer?" Dean asked her uncertainly.

"Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say there's a good chance that we can get your cases dismissed," My body relaxed in relief at that news.

"You could take care of that for us?" Sam checked, surprised at how kind she was being.

"I hope so, but the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I-I can't help you" My heart dropped a bit, but I had figured that she couldn't do anything about that. It wasn't in her jurisdiction. "Unless I just happened to turn my back and you walked away. I could tell them that the suspects escaped,"

"Wait. Are you sure?" Dean and I both turned to look at Sam as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Yeah, she's sure, Sam," Dean spoke for her.

"No, I mean… it's just you could loose your job over something like that," Sam told her.

"Look, I just want you three out there doing what you do best. Trust me. I'll sleep better at night," I smiled at her statement. "Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you right now," She gestured to Sam and Dean as she spoke.

"Yeah, about that…" I started, not really sure how to continue. "Is there anyway you could not mention me. It could be useful not having the police know who I am,"

"Shouldn't be a problem," She agreed, and I relaxed again. "Now, get out of here. I got to radio this in."

"You wouldn't happen to know where my car is by chance?" I couldn't help but grin at that question.

"I parked it in an abandoned yard on Richard Street," The woman frowned at me in confusion.

"An officer said that someone took it to the impound yard on Robertson…" She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization. "Impersonating a police officer is a felony," She informed me.

"I'll add it to the list," I smiled as I spoke, and both Dean and Sam chuckled. "Thank you, by the way,"

"Don't mention it," She replied. "Now, go," She nodded to the road, and we began walking towards it.

"Nice lady," Sam commented when we'd reached the road.

"Yeah, for a cop," Dean shrugged.

"Did she look familiar to either of you?" I asked them, trying to remember where I knew her from.

"Yeah, a little," Dean agreed, his eyebrows drawing together. "Hey, you hungry? I could go for some pea soup,"

"Me, too," I agreed, smiling slightly as we walked down the road. Things were finally starting to feel almost normal again.