Hey, apologies if this chapter is a bit jumpy. I've been writing it on and off since I last updated but each time I keep getting distracted but alas, tonight I got it finished with help from my friends Ben and Jerry. Oh how I love cookie dough ice cream =]

Think I forgot a disclaimer thingy on the last chapter, not this time though. I don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 10

I was more than happy to have the following morning to myself. My plan was to head into town for a new pair of jeans and maybe a jacket but that go off to a slow start. It was nearly eleven when I awoke, not that I was complaining about the lie in, it was very much needed. I picked up a croissant from a bakery and bottle of water and walked to the shops. For the briefest of moments I considered driving but then the guilt washed over me of all the fatty horrible food I ate at various places, the exercise, although not wanted, would do me some good. Yeah I'm not totally convinced on that one. At least I had a chance to be away from the Winchester's for a while but knowing my luck I'd probably bump into them.

The walk didn't take as long as I anticipated, that could only mean more time shopping. It's a shame I really don't like shopping, if it wasn't for that I'd probably enjoy it. I wasted no time in getting what I needed; the only bit of shopping I could bare was the bookstore. Thankful for their sale I stocked up on books and headed in the general direction of a really good cup of coffee to pass the time before meeting the Winchester's later on.

As I lugged my bags down the street I had to stop when my attention was captured by the familiar uniform of the Sheriff, issuing a parking ticket to some poor fool. At least, despite being the Shapeshifter (I had no doubts about it, regardless of the lack of proof as of yet), he was doing his duty. I still wanted to plunge a nice silver blade straight through his heart and end the case right there and then. The more I watched him like some kind of creepy stalker the less likely he was the Shapeshifter. It was so convincing. How could he be anyone but the person he was supposed to be? I shook my self mentally, he was supposed to be convincing. With a coffee shop insight I walked off leaving the Sheriff to ruin someone's day.

Reluctantly, nearly two hours later, I left the coffee shop where I'd read a good chunk of one of my new books and returned to the motel to meet the Winchester's and returned to the twisted supernatural hunting that is normality. "What time do you call this?" Dean called from across the parking lot; I stuck my tongue out in response because I'm that mature and continued to my room.

"Chill out Dean, it's only a few minutes," I heard Sam say to his impatient brother. I was only ten minutes later than planned, that wasn't massively late. Worn out after walking back with the bags I dropped them in my room and headed out to face the wrath of Dean.

The Winchester's were casually leaning against their shiny black car. Oh sure, they can lean on the car but slamming doors isn't allowed, go figure. They called the car something but I'd obviously switched off from the conversation, a cars a car. Cars weren't really my thing, I knew how to put oil in and gas, what else did I need to know? As far as I'm concerned that's enough.

"Do you want me to drive?" I offered it seemed I was constantly sponging lifts from the Winchester's. Dean looked at me with a look on his face as if to say 'yeah, right' and opened the driver's side door of their car. I'll take that as a no. "Then let me shout dinner," I said as I climbed into the back of their car before Sam could protest otherwise.

"Won't say no to that," Dean replied. I prayed that they wouldn't find anywhere too expensive. As the engine rumbled into life loud music burst through the speakers making me jump, honestly wasn't expecting that. Sam reached to turn it down only for Dean to turn it up again and mumbled something about driver's privilege. With an apologetic look from Sam we were on our way for food.

Dinner wasn't too painful on my pocket and we actually invented a half decent plan of action. Let's just hope it goes to plan. Dean was going to join a bowling team, he'd already told the deputy sheriff that he was knew in town. Sam and I couldn't do it, it didn't fit with the story we'd used when investigating others around town. We left Dean at the doorway to the bowling alley; we were going to sit in the alley bar whilst he joined their tournament.

With drinks in hand we sat so we were facing the lanes, phones out on the table so we could look for the eye glare thing on the camera. "I don't believe it," Sam said incredulously.

"What?" I asked, thinking he had confirmed our eye glare on the Sheriff.

"Dean got a strike," the surprise was more than evident in his voice, I didn't see what the big surprise was several others had strikes, our Sheriff Shapeshifter even had two. Sam explained further, "Dean's crap at bowling." I laughed, imagining at hopeless Dean on a bowling alley.

"He's not the only one," I replied. We used to go bowling as a family, fifty percent of the time my ball would end up on the next lane; it definitely wasn't my true calling mind you neither was this. I elaborated more to Sam about my lack of bowling ability, much to his amusement and my dismay. The sensible and smart thing would have been to keep quiet but no, I just had to open my big mouth. Excellent. In an attempt to divert the topic I picked up my phone and flicked to the camera, the idea was to make it look like I was sending a text message but instead I was on operation find glare. Maybe that needs a catchier name.

Zoom on a camera is an excellent function, it made things easier when you were looking for a Shapeshifter but I doubt that's what they were designed for. The only problem was the picture turned grainy; the glare should still show up though according to Sam. A few minutes of holding up the phone to my face and my arms were getting tired. I put it down; if I held it up any longer it might look suspicious. "I think he knows what were doing," I said glumly. Sam frowned and looked in the Sheriff's direction. "He's just not looking this way," I complained.

"Well the lane is in the opposite direction, he doesn't have much reason to look this way," Sam reasoned. I knew he was right I was just getting fed up. Apparently Dean isn't the only one with patience issues. "Another drink?" Sam asked picking up the empty glasses.

"Well if I must," I replied. Over the last few days I'd drunk way more alcohol than I normally would. Yet one more thing to blame the Winchester's for. We'll just not even consider that I could have ordered a coke or something. With Sam gone I made another attempt at trying to catch the Sheriff's eye glare but he wasn't there. I abandoned my phone and looked around frantically worried he'd cottoned on and left. My fears subsided when I spied him leaving the men's room, he looked in my direction but I couldn't pick my phone up quick enough. I felt stupid for panicking like that; if you've got to go then I guess you've got to go. It wasn't like he was going to tell us 'oh, sorry you'll have to stop stalking me for a few minutes whilst I use the bathroom.'

"What's the matter?" Sam asked with genuine concern as soon as he returned. I thought I did well at trying to hide the whole 'I'm worried our suspect has disappeared when really he hasn't' thing. Apparently not.

"Oh," I blushed feeling incredibly stupid, "I thought the Sheriff had disappeared." The look on Sam's face darkened, "but he hasn't," I added hastily. Relief flashed across Sam's face.

Sam sat down and picked up his phone, his fingers flicking across the buttons. I assumed he was sending a text message to Dean so as to update him on our thus far unproductive evening. Perhaps I was wrong in thinking that the whole point of these bowling things was for the husbands to escape their wives and a have a few drinks with their friends but so far not a single one has headed for the bar.

I rested my head on my hand, staring off into the depths of the dingy bowling alley to where the Sheriff was currently residing. Didn't these people know we were working on something? Sam's hand on my knee snapped me back to reality. What on earth was he doing! I'm pretty sure if looks could kill then Sam would be lying dead on the floor. "I think Dean may have more patience than you," Sam chuckled lightly, "you need to keep still; we can't have it knowing we're on to it." It was then it dawned on me that I'd been tapping my foot none too gently in my impatience. Okay, so I over reacted to Sam. Tapping my foot and staring right at the guy weren't doing us any favours in trying to blend in with everyone else.

"You're right, sorry," I picked up my drink and let Sam try to catch some eye glare on his phone.

Needing something to do I reached into my bag and pulled out the battered notebook I'd written all my notes in. Flicking back through it I wanted to double check in case we'd missed something. I didn't think we had but it couldn't hurt to check.

"Getting anything?" I asked as I flipped backwards and forwards through pages of illegible scribbles.

"No," Sam replied, just as fed up as I was.

"It's because he's looking at the lane and not us," I replied giving Sam a similar speech to the one he gave me, just to annoy him and make things more interesting.

"I never would have thought of that," Sam answered dryly. I watched him as he picked up his beer, my mind wondering back into the dangerous territory I was trying so hard to avoid. There was now way I fancied Sam, absolutely no way.

For the next half an hour we made no progress, just another round of drinks but I guess you could call that progress depending on how you look at it. Players kept coming to the bar but not the Sheriff. It seems everyone was buying him drinks. I guess you needed the Sheriff as a friend if you were to avoid all those parking and speeding fines. My foot tapping had stopped; it took a lot of effort on my behalf. Instead I shredded a beer mat to pieces and not just mine but Sam's as well. I hadn't realised until tonight how impatient I was. Being on my own all the time I expect I just never noticed it before.

I set my phone down, the Sheriff not standing still long enough for me to catch any eye glare and looked to Sam who started to lean closer making me nervous, he tucked a hair behind by ear "Alice, he's heading towards the bar," Sam whispered sending chills down my spine. It was stupid. Maybe, had my entire mind not been turned to jelly then I would have more to say on the matter. Sam was only doing it so it was less obvious to the Shapeshifter waltzing our way but it had more of an effect on me no matter how hard I was trying to resist. Hold on a second, let me be honest, I wasn't even considering trying to resist thinking about Sam anymore but I needed to if we were to send our Shapeshifter on a one way trip to the worm buffet.

I'd heard what Sam said but I couldn't process it quick enough, thankfully, Sam had picked his phone up and hopefully fingers crossed had caught the proof we needed so we could kill it. "Did you get it?" I whispered shuffling closer not that I could get much closer, so I could see the image.

"Yeah," Sam replied showing me the phone. I took it from his hand, I could see the bright glare from its eyes but I wanted a closer look having never seen it before.

"Wow, so it's good bye Mr Shape shifter," I felt relieved. Once it was dead we could all move on and I could go back to what I was used to but I'm getting ahead of myself we have to first we have to ice the bastard. With the revelation of the glare I'd managed to shove the annoying Winchester from my mind, I just had to keep him out of it.

Dean joined us at the bar as people were heading off for the night, "so?" he quizzed immediately, taking Sam's beer and downing it. Sam shoved him almost making him choke. I guess that was the response he was after.

"So," I took it upon myself to answer Dean not being overly helpful. He'd got to have all the fun whilst we sat around stalking the Sheriff; I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"So, is the Sheriff our guy?" he set the empty beer bottle down with a thud.

"Take a look," Sam showed him the picture. I finished my drink so we could head off, the bar man looked as impatient as I was earlier only he wanted us to leave so he could close for the night.

"That was awesome!" Dean exclaimed once we were in the car. Apparently, it wasn't cool for him to do that in the bowling alley.

"Dean you finished last," Sam replied raining on his parade.

"Yeah, I wouldn't brag about it," I grinned as Dean glowered back in the rear view mirror and turned the music up, whatever it was.

Once back at the motel Dean headed inside their room evidently fed up of all the teasing we'd given him on the way back. The light-hearted laughs were more than welcome after all the plotting we'd done for the Shapeshifters death so far.

Sam shut the car door and leaned against the car, looking very smooth, not that I was thinking about him. "So, what happens next?" I asked. I wanted to go and ice the thing as soon as we saw the eye glare but apparently people would have something to say if we just strutted up and stabbed the Sheriff in the middle of town.

"We need to get him on his own," Sam answered, instantly my mind took off thinking through various scenarios.

"I'll ask him for an interview, but somewhere isolated, maybe a quiet coffee shop or bar and then we can corner him in the car bark or an alley. Then just take off into the sunset," I blurted out way too eager.

Sam laughed at my eagerness, "sounds good to me, I'll run it by Dean and we can iron out the kinks over breakfast." Brilliant, I finally wasn't relying on Sam or Dean for ideas on all this Shapeshifter jazz.

Dean came out and locked his car and I said good night to the Winchester's, "I'll call you in the morning," Sam said as I headed for my room across the parking lot. At least they were going to call in the morning and not just let themselves in so I could die of embarrassment again.

After shutting the creaky door to my motel room I lean against it and let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding as realisation washed over me. I could deny it all I like but it was no use. I fancied Sam Winchester. With my eyes shut tight I bashed my head against the door wishing that particular realisation back into a forgotten part of my mind. It was no use though; I was going to spend the remainder of my evening and what was probably going to be a sleepless night fretting over my realisation desperately trying to convince myself otherwise.