A/N: Here's the next chapter of the story. It's also one of the longest ones. Also, I changed the last bit of the last chapter. I decided against Becky showing up at their door.

I'm happy to see that so many people have added this to their alert list. Thank you for the reviews, too. They make me ubber happy. So keep them coming if you want me to continue!


Loose Screws

RING!

RING!

The sound of the phone blaring slowly begin to wake Dean. "Sam," he asked in a groggy state as he shifted under the multi-colored 70s style covers, "get the phone."

RING!

RING!

"Sammy, get the phone!" He said louder hoping to wake his brother up enough to realize that the phone was ringing.

RING!

RING!

"Sammy?!" Dean peered over to the other bed seeing why his brother wasn't responding to him. He wasn't in bed, but the bed sheets were wadded up to the side. He looked over to the bathroom, that was closed, the yellow light illuminating the spaces and cracks of the white door. "Of course, why don't I just get it?"

The phone rang once more before Dean reached over and took it off the receiver. He placed it to his ear and groaned into the phone, "hello?"

A voice recording, a rather peppy one at that, came over the phone line, "This is your four am wake up call. Thank you for staying at the Red Roof Motel!"

Dean slammed the phone down on the receiver in frustration, "SAM!" He could faintly hear Sam laughing behind the closed door. "I'm going to kick your ass."

Sam poked his head out of the bathroom door, "Guess you need more beauty sleep than you thought, huh?"

Dean grabbed his pillow off of the bed and gave it a hard throw in an attempt to hit him in the head. But it was too late because Sam had just closed the door. He laid back down into his bed trying to find that nook he'd made during the night that was so comfortable. He drew in a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes. Just when he was about to drift off to sleep the phone rang again. He grunted, "Damn it, Sam! If that's another wake up call you're going to have a hard time sitting for a month with my foot in your ass."

He reached over and grabbed the phone off the receiver, "hello?"

"This is your four am wake up call. Thank you for staying at the Red Roof Motel!"

"Told you it was war," Sam said as he opened the door to peek out once again; before quickly shutting it.

He mumbled under his breath, "such an ass." He looked back at the door in a mocking tone he repeated what Sam had said before, "guess you needed more beauty sleep than you thought."

Sam emerged from the bathroom and headed towards his bed. "So since you're up early this morning we can get a head start on the day."

"Ass," was all that Dean could muster up in response.

They arrived at the fairly vacant diner. The only cars in the parking lot was a beat up blue '97 Ford truck and an orange Chevy '89 probe, "Looks like they're closed."

"It won't hurt to go in and check things around. Plus, when has a building that is closed ever prohibited you in entering?" Sam reached for the handle and began to get out of the passenger side of the car.

They headed to the restaurant and was surprised that the door wasn't locked.

The older waitress, Caroline according to the name tag, greeted them as they entered the diner. Her old hands held on tight to the dishtowel as she wiped down the marble counter in front of her. In her southern accent, "Sorry, boys, we're closed today."

"We were wondering if Becky was in today. We wanted to talk to her for a few minutes," Sam looked around the diner hoping to spot her.

"She took the day off, she was still pretty shook up about what happened yesterday. The cook got--"

"We were here yesterday," Dean cut her off before she could explain.

"Gabe and her were really good friends. Neither one of them had much family, poor girl. It's awful when children grow up without someone, they're forced to grow up so fast."

"She doesn't have any relatives?" Dean asked.

"None, at all, that I'm aware of." She stopped wiping the counter and placed the dishtowel down in front of her, "I think she said her mother and father died in a car wreck when she was younger; back in Michigan."

"Do you think we could get her address?" Sam asked with his genuine smile.

"Nah, I don't want you guys bugging her, she's pretty torn up about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Dean cocked a wicked grin.

"What he means is that we wanted to offer our condolences, in person."

"I don't know, boys."

"We understand, Sam, here, is a counselor. A really good one at that, he even wanted to become a Priest. He actually saved a whole convent one time full of nuns." Dean looked over and saw Sam force a smile. "Maybe, he could offer some encouraging words. Right, Sam?"

Through grit teeth and a nod in agreement, "Yeah, we're trained to help in these sort of circumstances."

"Wow, impressive resume." The waitress considered for a moment, "Well, I guess it would be good for her to speak to someone. Maybe help her through this awful experience. Perhaps give her some sort of closure on the situation."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean agreed.

"Alright, but if I hear that you gave her trouble we'll run you out of this town." She warned with a pointed finger, "you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both responded.

After they received the address they headed out of the diner.

Sam looked over at Dean, "Priest?"

"Hey, I knew she wouldn't buy it unless I gave her a story. I couldn't very well have been the priest. I'm too cute for that."

"And me being a Priest who saved a convent full of nuns, is believable?"

"We got the address didn't we?"

They pulled up in front of a white two-story home with blue shutters. It was a small piece of land located in between two similar houses. A beautiful garden and flower bed could be seen from the sidewalk. A great residence to live in for someone with a family.

"Well, this is cute, Sam."

They stepped out of the Impala and headed towards the door on the front porch. Dean knocked lightly on the door with a closed fist. It didn't take long until they could hear footsteps coming from behind the door.

Becky opened the door in the midst of talking to someone behind her, apparently in another room. It was unable to make out what exactly what she was saying before she arrived, "just go on--" She stopped abruptly when she saw who was at her front door. "Can I help you?"

"Becky, hi, I don't know if you remember us. I'm Sam this is my brother Dean, we were at the diner yesterday, we were hoping that we could ask you a few questions."

"Yes, I remember you, too. What are you reporters?" She began to slowly shut the door, "I'm sorry I'm not going to talk to the--"

"No, we're not, but we wanted to get your account of what happened yesterday," Sam said with great sincerity.

She opened the door up again, "you were there, you should know what happened."

"Yeah, well, we're thinking something else might have happened," Dean saw the look on her face, "other than what we saw yesterday. There might be more to it."

"Like what?" She was clearly skeptical about what the brother's were suggesting.

"That's sort of why we wanted to talk to you," offered Sam.

"What is it that you do then, Sam, is it?"

Sam exchanged a brief glance with Dean before looking back at Becky, "We specialize in this sort of thing."

She thought for a moment before moving to the side to allow them to enter, "Alright."

Once they were inside she ushered them towards the living room. Motioning for them to take a seat on the couch, "When I gave my part of the story they thought I was crazy."

"The police doesn't understand but we're here to help. Could you tell us what you told them?" Sam who took his seat beside Dean who had already made himself comfortable on the couch.

"I told them that Gabe," she paused looking for the right words to describe what she saw, "that he looked different."

"Looked different?" Dean played dumb in order for her to continue with her explanation. He reached forward and snatched a piece of Werther's candy from the brown bowl in the center of the coffee table.

Becky watched as he unwrapped the candy and plopped it in his mouth, "Gabe was perfectly healthy when I left him minutes before. Then when I rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, his face had aged considerably, he was almost unrecognizable."

"You noticed the age thing, too?" Dean muffled as best as he could with the candy in his mouth.

"I told the police officer that and he thought I was crazy. He said that the heat from the burners could've done that."

"What about the tattoo? Do you remember when he got it?" Sam asked after looking over at his brother.

"Tattoo, what tattoo?" She shook her head in confusion. "He didn't have a tattoo."

"The one on his arm, did he not mention or show it to you?" Sam took out the napkin that had the tattoo drawing on it and he handed it over.

"That's impossible, he never wanted a tattoo, you see he was scared of needles. Even when he went to get his physical a few weeks back, he was panicking about getting a shot. He wouldn't have gotten a tattoo. He was such a baby about the whole thing."

Sam nodded to signal that he understood. It was followed closely with a moment of silence. Not sure where to go from there or what else should be said.

"Where's my manners? Can I offer you guys something to drink?" She got up on her feet ready to make her way to the kitchen.

"We don't want to keep you from anything," Sam smiled politely, "we're going to try to put the pieces together and see if any of it makes sense. Plus, it seems like you have some other company."

"No, no company, it's just me in this big house."

Sam turned to Dean, "Well, we really should be going anyway. Thanks for your time."

"I hope that helped, let me get you my phone number." She smiled as she headed into the other room to grab a piece of paper, "Are you guys staying in town long?" She returned briefly with her name and number, which she handed to Dean.

"We're probably going to stay in town for a few more days." Sam called after her, "See if we can find something out about your friend Gabe. We're going to be staying at the Red Roof motel downtown if you remember anything."

They both headed towards the door with Sam opening it and leading the way outside.

They lingered on the porch as she followed them outside. Not going any farther than just beyond the threshold of the door.

"Well, if you find out anything please don't hesitate to call me. It's better that I know for sure instead of wondering. I knew something was wrong, there's no way he could--" She shook her head dismissing her thoughts, "Drive safe."

"Thank you, again, for your time," Sam reminded her.

Becky smiled and gave a wave as she waited for them to get in the car.

Dean watched as she turned and headed back inside. "Okay, who the hell was she talking to?"

"I have no idea. Maybe she's at wits end about the whole thing. She just lost her friend."

"I don't know she's," he trailed off not sure the right word to categorize her with.

Sam finished the sentence for him, "People grieve differently, Dean."

"Yeah, I've seen grieving, that's not grieving." He turned the ignition, put it into gear, and pulled out on to the street. "Seems like she has a few screws loose."

"Why because she wasn't exactly foaming at the mouth when she saw you?"

"Well, there's that."

A/N: So I wonder what Becky is hiding?! Dun, dun, dun!