"Best case ever," Dean beamed under the Florida sun but met the stern gaze of his father when he rounded the hood of the Impala.

"If you aren't going to take this seriously then I'm sending you back to the motel with Sammy."

"What? And miss out on all the Spring Break chicks?"

"Dean!"

Dean caught himself, seeing genuine anger starting to creep into his father's eyes. He knew it had been a stretch for his father to let him come along and not stay behind and protect his younger brother, but since Sam was no where near the descriptions of the targets, John had allowed Dean to join him. The teen straightened and nodded. "Sorry sir."

"Better. Now then, the paper said they were all young men, all from out of town."

"So they had too much to drink, stumbled off a pier or something?"

"Exactly. If you were a monster looking to feed, wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity? Easy picking when everyone is drunk at night, and then even easier cover up as everyone will think the same as you."

"Huh." Dean considered this. "Smart."

"Very. The only clue we have is the fact that similar disappearances took place not long ago further up state. Only stopped about a month ago. Now we're seeing the same pattern here."

"Any clue what it is?"

"None so far, so watch your back."

John stuffed his papers back into his folder and opened the trunk for his suit jacket.

"I'm going to see what information I can get with a badge." He pulled something from his pocket and handed it off to Dean who grinned at the fake id. "You go see what you can get from the sources themselves. Here's a list of the vics and the colleges their attending. Try to find their friends and hear what they think happened."

"Yes sir," Dean said a little too excitedly. John grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Do not get drunk, Dean. You have a perfect opportunity to get a side of the story I can't. I'm trusting you on this."

"Of course, I've got it."

"And don't you become one of the victims either, you fit the profile after all."

"I won't, I swear."

"Good." John let him go. "Meet up at the motel later."

"Okay." He stepped back from the car and John rumbled away down the packed streets of barely dressed young people. Dean pocketed his id and waited until he was sure his father could no longer see him in the rear view mirror. Then the widest of grins spread over his face and he looked up at the sunny sky.

"Thank you."

It wasn't hard to spot them—the only sombre faces in crowds of sun-kissed, intoxicated youth. Dean swirled his warming beer in its plastic cup as he approached the group with down turned faces on the board walk, the sands beyond shimmering in a heat mirage even though the day was drawing to a close. He drank back the rest of his beer he'd been nursing and took a seat next to the young girl twirling a ring that dangled from a chain around her neck.

"Hi, I'm Dean."

"Back off, asshole," Someone bit out before she even looked up at him. It was her group of friends, two girls and a guy—it was the guy who'd spoken. "Does she look like she wants some jerk to try to pick her up?"

"What? No, that's not why I came over, I just-"

"Do you know something about Jimmy?" The girl before him asked desperately. She had devastatingly large brown eyes, their depths intensified by the sparkle of fresh tears. Her hair was blonde, bleached even lighter by the sun. Dean had to remind himself he was on a case. James Croft was vic number three and the most recent. He met her pleading eyes.

"Well I actually was wondering what happened. My buddy's been missing two days and I can't help think it's related."

"You were friends with one of the other two?" So they were aware of the pattern. "Please did you see anything?"

"Nothing." Dean pretended to remember a wild night. "We got separated in the crowds, you know? I kept thinking he'd turn up hung over but now...what about you?" "Jimmy—my boyfriend—we were together all night until...well I had a few too many and I was sick. I ran into the bathroom. When I came out I couldn't find him anywhere."

"Was he drunk too?"

"Everyone was."

"Did you see anything strange?"

"What do you mean by that?"

Dean tried to play it cool and shrugged. "I dunno, anyone watching him or anything?" "I didn't see, why? Did you see anyone watching your friend?"

"No, I was just wondering. How about how he was acting? Did he seem off?"

"He seemed drunk."

"Hey dude, what's with the twenty questions?" the guy asked.

"I'm just trying to get answers," Dean said but stood. "Sorry I won't bother you anymore." He made to walk away. His wrist was caught. He had to suppress his smile.

"No wait, I want answers too. Please." He turned back to her tear-filled eyes.

"What's you're name?"

"Clarissa."

"Dean."

"Dean, can we go somewhere and talk?"

"Clarissa-"

"It's okay Brian," she said to the guy. "I'll meet up with you later."

Dean nodded to the guy in the least threatening way he could think to do and followed her down the beach where it was less crowded, though the constant blast of music from several directions meant there was no where really quiet to go.

"How about you just tell me about the night, everything you can remember, even if you don't think it's important."

"Just like the police," she commented, but she didn't seem suspicious. "Okay, if you think it will help."

"Anything might help."

Dean returned to the motel after having walked Clarissa back to her friends. He barely greeted Sam before sitting down to make a detailed list of notes of everything she'd said for their father.

"I want to see the party," Sam complained.

"You're too young."

"So are you."

"Come one Sammy, don't ruin this for me, my first case with alcohol and chicks in bikinis." He relished in just the words despite the face his brother made. "Tell Dad I met with the girlfriend of one and I'm going to find the others, there's what I've found out so far."

"What, Dean, it's already eleven."

"Yeah, the party's just getting started." He winked at his brother and hurried to the door.

"Dean!"

"Later little bro!"

Dean could taste the sweat in the air at the night club. The beach at least had the night sky and fresh air to keep it a reasonable temperature but in here must have been pushing forty degrees and it was well past midnight. The base vibrated through his chest, his ears couldn't pick out any words past the thunder of noise. He finished off another drink and came to a stop. He'd nursed it, like everything else, just for show. As much as he wanted to abandon himself to the throes of wild, reckless youth, join the crowds and let himself be just as free as all these suckers—he was on the job, and he had to remain clear headed. If he didn't, he was sure his father would send him packing back to Bobby's or put him on babysitting duties again.

So his eyes were clear, though the room was dense with a fog machine. Strobing lights bounced off the droplets and the crowd of moving bodies became a technicoloured landscape and there was no telling up from down, left from right.

Dean sighed and made for the exit. He took in great gasping breaths from the outside. He had actually never experienced anything like this before, and though some part of him was excited by it all, felt a thrill of youthful desire—the hunter in him detested the crowded space, the lack of exits, it was a set-up for something to go wrong.

"A little too much for you in there?"

He started at the voice. He hadn't even noticed the small blonde approaching him.

"Clarissa." He pushed off from the wall where he'd been leaning.

"I'm the same," she said sympathetically. "I can't stand the crowds after what happened."

"Mm." He watched her shiver, despite the heat.

"I just can't shake the feeling the person who took him is still out there, planning their next strike."

She and Dean had concluded earlier that they were certain someone had attacked Jimmy and the other victims. Clarissa had only mentioned someone "taking" them, whereas Dean couldn't help wonder when he would stumbled upon body parts.

"Wait, what are you doing out here anyway?" Dean asked her. "After I spoke with you today I thought the party is the last place you'd be."

Her eyes shot up to his and he was struck by their ferocity. "I'm not going to sit around and do nothing like Melissa and Brian."

"You're friends."

She nodded. "They've still got each other. We came down here together, like a couples trip, you know, but now I'm the one alone. So I'm the one who's out here looking. I mean, obviously you're doing the same thing."

"Yeah, I just-"

"What, you think 'cause I'm a girl I'm just going to sit in my hotel room and cry?"

"No of course not." He played innocent but couldn't help the way her steel gaze made him want to smile. "Though I've gotta say you aren't like most chicks."

She actually managed a smile past her pain and anxiety.

"So what do you say we work together?" he offered.

But she shook her head. "That would be counter productive. We need to spread out, cover more area. We can meet for breakfast on the beach, compare notes."

"Ah, yeah, sounds like a plan."

"Alright, good luck." She moved past him down the board walk toward other bars. Dean watched her go, feeling for once like he was not the professional. And definitely feeling like he was quickly falling—head in the direction of his heels.

"Is that coffee or beer?" Dean swirled the cheap brown brew he'd ordered from a shack along the beach.

"Let's just say I wish it was beer." He tipped the rest of the bitter brew into the sand and rose to meet Clarissa. She had her own tall brew in hand, though it didn't do much to take the utter exhaustion from her features. She took the lead, walking down the trash strewn boardwalk, quiet now after one wild night.

"I got nothing," she admitted and began pointing to the different locations she'd covered. "Lots of guys leering at others, but no one I could point out as particularly suspicious."

"Same," Dean admitted, "so many creeps in the crowd I couldn't pick out the psychotic ones. But I was thinking, in all that commotion, how would you grab a guy against his will and take him off somewhere without anyone noticing?"

"What are you saying, they had an invisibility cloak or something?"

"What, no, I mean maybe they went willingly."

"What's that mean? Jimmy wouldn't have left me."

"Are you sure about that? If he was drunk he could have been lured off somewhere."

"To do what?"

"Buy drugs. Gamble. Anything that people didn't want advertised. It would be a good ploy to draw him and the other vics off, get them alone and out of the crowds. Did Jimmy like anything like that?"

"NO!" She was offended, "he would not have left me to go do drugs or play a seedy poker game!"

"Alright, sorry." Dean waved his hands in surrender. "I'm just stabbing in the dark here."

Her face blanched, he realized he probably shouldn't have used that term. "Sorry."

She shook her head and played with the plastic tab covering her coffee. "Don't be, at least you were coming up with a solution. What about your friend, would he have been drawn off by any of those things?"

Dean momentarily forgot his cover of being friends with one of the vics. Then he caught himself and shrugged. "Nah, he's a straight shooter. It was a bad theory. Where are your friends, the other two? I'll walk you back to your hotel."

Dean walked her right to the lobby of the resort that was packed full of young people. He stepped over a forgotten book bag and spotted a mess in one corner. Apparently the hotel staff couldn't even keep up with the madness of Spring Break. For a moment he took it all in, and for a moment he sincerely wished he was here to get drunk and party with young people and not investigate the disappearance of three men.

"Dean how old are you?" He hadn't realized he'd spaced and her voice drew him back around. They were at the elevator waiting for it to work its way down.

"Huh? Twenty-one, why?"

"Nothing, you just...look kind of young for your age."

"Thanks." He pretended to be offended but just hoped he could pass himself off as being her age.

"Sorry," she smiled. "I guess I'm just tired."

"No worries. Get some rest."

"You too." The elevator chimed and the door parted. He waved her off and when the doors shut he was left with his own haggard reflection. He slogged back out of the hotel and made the long walk back to the motel that was far from the beach front hotel where everyone else was staying. He was ready to face plant on his bed. He got to the door just as the Impala pulled in. John stepped out with a fast-food breakfast in hand.

"Oh good, you're back, you can come to the coroner's office, the first body was found."

"What is it, bring your kid to work day or something?"

The coroner gave Dean a critical look in his suit and parted hair. John wore a much less formal outfit, a tweed over a t-shirt and jeans but he also had the beard and age to make it look more convincing.

"He just looks young, this is actually his second year working under me, learning from the best, aren't ya kid?"

"Yeah," Dean answered dully.

"Well the Feds must be recruiting straight out of high school then," the doctor muttered but didn't question them further. He drug the tray out of the freezer and exposed the pale young body there.

"Gary Hughes, the first of the three to go missing." The coroner informed them.

"Cause of death?"

"Yet to be determined. It's a strange case, but I'd say we got some sort of pervert on our hands."

He indicated the raw marks around the man's wrists and ankles. He'd clearly been bound. The other thing he showed them were bite marks at his neck. They were messy, it was hard to count the punctures.

"Some goth sex thing maybe," the coroner speculated.

"Any drugs in the system?"

"Tox screen is still being run. I'll get back to you on that." He shuffled his papers. "I'm actually heading to the lab now unless you have any more questions."

"Thanks." John dismissed him and got to work. Dean watched with a queasy stomach as he poked and prodded the body.

"See this discolouring," John lifted a lifeless arm. "that means he was sitting when he died, the fluid pooled here. And see how the chafing is only on the back of his wrist? I'd say he was tied to an arm chair, and then he died in it. They must have dumped the body last night." John paused and then smiled. "What, squeamish son?"

"No," Dean lied.

"You'll have to get used to it. As you get older you'll be able to pass yourself off as an agent without me. Then you'll have to examine bodies by yourself. Here, look at his fingernails, what do they tell you?"

Dean forced himself to draw closer to the body, and clenched his jaw as he picked up the cold hand to get a closer look.

"Nothing," he said.

"And what's that tell you?"

"He didn't fight back."

"Good."

"You think he was lured?" Dean set the hand back down and stepped back from the body.

"It's a good chance." John nodded. "Unless they were drugged, but we don't have the tox yet."

"But if they were lured out and left willingly it would explain why no one saw anything and why there was no resistance."

John snapped off his latex gloves and dropped them in a trash with a small smile. "Very good Dean, you may be cut out for this after all."

Dean grinned and pulled off his own gloves. They met the doctor but only got the promise of a tox screen to come in a few hours. Dean was about to say he was ready to crash but when they got back to the Impala an officer was waiting for them.

"Oh good I caught you," he greeted John. Dean assumed they'd had dealings earlier. "I just got the report—a fourth student has gone missing."

"Fit the profile?"

The officer nodded and handed over a photocopy of the description. "Male, twenty one, went out with his friends, didn't come back."

"How long has he been missing?"

"Don't know, just that he left his wallet with a friend when he went to take a leak behind a bar, never came back."

"Okay then, sounds like us. I'll see what I can find out."

"His friends are at the station if you want to talk to them."

"Yeah sure, can I catch a ride?" He tossed the keys to Dean and gave him the photocopy. "Check out the scene."

"Yeah, sure." Dean watched him get in the cruiser and pulled at the collar of his shirt. It was already boiling hot. As soon as he was out of sight of the department and heading back toward the beach he changed out of the restricting clothes, though he had to admit his beach attire was just as foreign to him as the suit. He liked his layers, in which many weapons and tools could be stored. Dressed in beachwear, he just felt naked.

Or free.

He parked at the end of the boardwalk and made his way back down the now familiar stretch of beach from which all of the victims had disappeared. He pulled the photocopy out and quickly identified the bar and grill indicated. It was a smaller joint and one look at the overflowing toilets and Dean knew why the guy had gone out back to take a leak. He stood in the loose sand that had built up in the rear of the building, careful not to step where no doubt tens of teens had relieved themselves. He stood facing the wall, then turned to looked back to the beach, hoping to see through the eyes of the victim and figure out where an attacker might be lurking.

There was nothing. Just open beach between the back end of this establishment and the surf. But what he did determine when coming back around the side of the building was he was smack dab in the middle of the locations of disappearances. He read the signs of the beach bars and more elaborate night clubs where the other vics had last been seen. Was it possible they'd all come here rather than wait in line or risk a filthy bathroom? Had they all been caught with their pants down?

It was as good a theory as any, and he knew how he could prove it—he fit the profile, so tonight, he would wait to be taken.

To be continued next chapter! Thanks for the positive reviews to the other stories, I love to hear feedback!

Riza