"Cas, make sure your badge is right side up." Dean advised, chuckling lightly. He soon realised his mistake as his laughter quickly evolved into a coughing fit. Sam gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure-"

"It's just the dust in the air." his brother informed him. Castiel frowned. "Currently, we are on a front porch. The amount of dust particles in the air would not be enough to cause you to cough. Therefore, it must be something else."

Dean was saved from answering him by the woman who opened the front door. Like most of the victim's families, her eyes were red-rimmed and watery and her hair was a train wreck; strands of blonde fluff were sticking up in every direction. She was clad in a floral bathrobe. "Y'all must be the FBI." she sniffed. Right on cue, the three men held up their badges as proof. Sam spoke. "This is Agent Florence, Agent Spektor and I'm Agent Nash."

The oldest Winchester's nose wrinkled and he hastily turned away to sneeze.

"Come in."

Soon enough, they were all seated in the woman's living room. She had made them each a cup of tea, to which Dean was eternally grateful. The hot water soothed his sore throat as he swallowed. The tea left a mildly spicy after taste in his mouth. He smacked his lips loudly, earning a disapproving glare from Sam. "So, Mrs. Lambrini," he began, "tell us about your daughter and fiancé."

The woman sighed heavily and immediately reached for the brightly coloured tissue box on the table. "My daughter's name is Lacey. She's the absolute sweetest girl in the world. And my fiancé, Phillip. I guess I met him about two years ago. We first locked eyes in a Starbucks; he'd spilled his cappuccino all over his suit and I'd offered him a napkin." Mrs. Lambrini gave the men a watery smile. "He was always so clumsy."

Castiel nodded, like this was crucial information, and started to write in his notebook. It took all Dean's effort not to roll his eyes.

Sam gave her a grim smile. "On that night, Tuesday was it? You came home to find...?"

"A mess. A big bl-bloody mess." Her voice shook with emotion. "Phillip was there, on the floor surrounded in a pool of his own blood. I called the police and then searched for my child. She was nowhere to be f-found." she cried, grabbing another twenty tissues.

"Hehh... KSHchhh!" Dean let out a strangled sneeze and then attempted to stifle another. "Huhkchhh!"

"Bless y-you." Mrs. Lambrini dabbed at her eyes tearfully and handed Dean the box of tissues. Sam smirked to himself and continued. "Where either of them acting strange? Different in any way the days prior to the murder?"

"Phillip was his usual sm-smiling self. L-Lacey was too, except..."

"Except?" Cas interjected, still scribbling on a sheet of paper.

"She had skipped classes the day before. I actually didn't think much of it, to be honest. She and her theatre friends were all practising for the school musical, Little Shop of Horrors, which is on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I figured she was nervous and needed a day off." she said, seeming to get control of her emotions.

"You allowed her to stay home that day?" Dean confirmed, nose buried in a tissue.

"Yes." Mrs. Lambrini nodded. "Does that add to your case?"

"We think it might." Sam explained. "Every little detail is important to us. Is Lacey typically a 'trouble child' at school?"

"N-no. She has all A's and has a passion for s-singing and acting. Her dancing will take your breath a-away." The woman suddenly broke into uneven sobs, her face in her hands. Dean coughed and clearly his throat.

"Okay, ma'am. I think we've got enough information." he told her awkwardly, snatching another tissue and blowing his nose.

The men stood up, heading towards the door.

"F-feel better, dear!" she called out to Dean. He blushed and hurried out the door towards the car. As he pulled away, Castiel studied the man in the rear view mirror. "Dean, your face is flushed and your brow is dotting with sweat, common symptoms of a fever. I suggest taking your temperature with a-"

"I'm fine." Dean said, rubbed his nose and trying not to sneeze. "Oh yeah?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "Really, you're fine?"

"HahCHISch!"

"That's what I thought." Sam announced, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "When we get home, I'm taking your temperature and you're gonna have a nice dosage of some NyQuil."

AN - Okay, I'd just like to thank everyone who favourited, followed or even simply read my story. I never thought people would actually enjoy it! If you have any comments, suggestions or complaints, leave them in the comments! :) Thanks you guys!