They had spent the rest of the morning with Chief Pulido as the police secured and began to process the murder scene. The chief was dismissive of their theory that Sonya's murder was related to the deaths of Emily or the Reverend. He insisted that the open door was evidence of a break-in and that the girl had to have been killed during a robbery gone bad. Stubbornly, he refused to consider any other possibility. The belligerent lawman frustrated Sam, but he really pissed off Dean. Eventually, Sam had dragged his brother away before he could say or do something that would get them run out of town or thrown in lock up.

Because of the police, they'd missed the start of the class at the university, but Sam hoped they could still catch Hector when the lab let out so that's why they were lounging outside room 317, Harlan Hall. There was only a smattering of summer science classes, so the building was mostly empty with just a few students occasionally passing them as they waited. Which was a good thing since Dean was practically radiating anger.

"And you know what really grinds my gears," his brother continued grousing from where he was leaning against the wall. "It was a nice, normal murder. Nothing weird about it and the chief of police doesn't give a crap. Couldn't even be bothered to haul his fat ass up the stairs to look at the crime scene himself." Dean shook his head in disgust. "I mean we've seen some shoddy police work in our time, but Pulido's a complete joke."

Sam shared Dean's opinion, but there was nothing they could do about it. Hopefully the guy they were waiting for, Hector Yanez could shed some light on who was drugging and killing the members of the CCF. If not, then Sonya's diary might yield some clues. Either way, he and Dean would find who was responsible and make sure they never hurt anyone again.

The door to the class clicked open before Dean could work himself up into another round of complaining. Sam straightened and stepped in front of the first group of students who were beginning to file out of the classroom.

"Hector Yanez?" he asked them. Several shrugged, but one young woman stopped.

"He wasn't in class today," she said before hitching her bag higher onto her shoulder and moving around Sam.

"Dammit," he said under his breath. Working his way through the students, he entered the classroom. A few students were still packing up their belongings, but Sam made a beeline to the older man at the front of the class.

"Excuse me. Special Agent Plant." Sam displayed his badge briefly. "Are you the instructor for this class?" Even though the professor was probably around his age, Sam instantly felt like the nervous freshman he'd been back at Stanford. He was glad they'd taken the time to change into their fed suits before coming here. The grey suit loaned him an air of authority that he appreciated.

"Yes," the teacher answered, pausing as he shut down the computer display. "I'm Professor Meitner. Can I help you?"

"My partner and I are looking for Hector Yanez. I understand that he's usually in this lab?"

"Hector? He's not in any trouble, is he?" The professor seemed genuinely distressed on behalf of his student.

"No, of course not. We'd just like to talk to him." Dean had joined them, smiling with his easy disarming charm.

"Oh, well I'm sorry, he's not here. Last I heard from him, he texted me to reschedule an appointment we had for Tuesday. Hector's a very dedicated scholar, usually you can barely get him to go home from the lab. He's one of the most brilliant young people I've ever had the pleasure of teaching." Meitner puffed up in pride for his scholar. That might provide the in they needed to get more information. Sam pulled out his notebook and plastered an impressed expression on his face.

"High praise. Can you tell us what Hector is currently working on?" In his experience professors liked to pontificate about their pet students.

"Of course! Hector is doing truly innovative work on dopamine abnormalities. He theorizes that his research on specific molecules and compounds related to impulse control and perception could have wide ranging implications, allowing us to better understand and treat impulse control disorders, substance abuse etc. His latest work might even have commercial uses or assist in law enforcement."

"That's fascinating," lied Sam as he faked a few notes. "We'd love to talk to him about the potential uses of his research. Do you know where we can find him?"

"Well, like I said, I haven't heard from him for a few days. I don't know where he might be. But I'd be happy to pass along your contact number if he should get in touch?"

"That would be great," Dean said placing one of his cards on the desk. "Thanks for your time." Sam gave a polite nod to Meitner and followed his brother out of the room. Once they were alone around a nearby corner, Dean stopped.

"So, what do you think?" Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dean tugged at his tie to loosen it.

"I think that Hector's research might be related to our victims. If he created some kind of chemical that affects impulse control, that might explain why the members of the CCF were suddenly getting frisky."

"Sounds plausible. But what kind of chemical turns people to stone, and why not kill Sonya with the same stuff? And why not kill me when he had the chance?" Dean wasn't looking at him as he asked his questions, for which Sam was glad. Thinking of his brother getting killed always made his gut churn.

"I don't know. Let's find him and ask. Hector's address isn't on file at the university, but I can dig a little deeper." If Sam was a little sharper than usual, it reflected his anger. Hector had hurt Dean and murdered two, likely three people, and he needed to be stopped.

"Okay, let's head back to the motel. You can suss out where Hector might be, and I'll skim through Sonya's diary that you swiped."

After swinging through the drive-through to pick up some lunch, they went back to the motel, changed their clothes again, and settled into their respective tasks. Sam sat in front of his laptop at the table. Dean was stretched out on the bed, back against the headboard and legs crossed at the ankle. He seemed mostly recovered from his head injury, happily munching fries as he read, but Sam found himself sneaking glances Dean's way. If his brother was hiding discomfort, he was doing it well.

Sam's own searching had come up empty. Hector had practically no social media presence. He could find the scholar's name as a contributor or commentor on various science related sites, but there were no photos, no personal posts. In fact, everything he dug up pointed to Hector being a serious academic with a bright future. The only mention of the young man that was unrelated to his studies was his name in the obituary of one Camilo Yanez who had died of natural causes over a year ago. Apparently, the dead man was Hector's uncle.

"Okay, here we go," Dean called with excitement from his spot on the bed.

"You find something?" Sam asked.

"According to Sonya, Hector was an A-class creeper. She talks about how he made the girls in the CCF uncomfortable."

"He was harassing them?" That kind of behaviour made Sam's blood boil. Only the lowest of scumbags went around thinking that women owed them attention.

"Not explicitly, but yeah. Apparently, he showed up outside of Sonya's job or apartment and would just watch. Dean scowled; he hated those kinds of guys just as much as Sam did.

"We should call Georgie and get her take on Hector." Sam wondered if Georgette had been spared his unwanted attention because of her uncle's position.

"Good idea. Here," Dean thrust the diary at Sam's chest. "You keep reading and I'll give her a call. I need to stretch my legs anyway." Palming his phone from the table, Dean stepped out into the parking lot before Sam could protest. He found the page Dean had been reading by the greasy smudge he'd left on the paper and began reading.

Besides the comments about Hector, most of the writing was about Sonya's life. Nothing strange, just the thoughts of a young person away from home for the first time. Sonya wrote about how she missed her family back in New York, especially her sister Angela. She wrote about her classes, her friends, her hopes and dreams for the future; very unremarkable but personally meaningful words all in a loopy, feminine script. It was hard to reconcile the bright, lively woman who had written in this journal with the broken body they'd discovered this morning. Finding her killer felt more urgent than ever.

With a turn of the page, the content changed. Most of the text was in a girlish purple pen, accented by doodles of flowers and hearts in the margins. But this page was hastily scrawled in scratchy blue ink.

"OMG, what am I going to do! I followed him tonight – I figured I'd lurk outside his place for a change, give him a taste of his own medicine. But when I looked in his window, he was reading from that weird, old book he's always carrying around. I couldn't make out exactly what he said, but it wasn't normal words. Even from outside the window, all the hairs on my arms stood up when I heard it. Then he saw me! I took off, but Hector knows it was me. He knows where I live!

I called Angela and she said that I'm imagining things, but I know something weird is going on. Emily was afraid of him and now she's dead. If I get killed too, Angela's going to feel bad that she didn't believe me. Anyways, I don't know what to do. I can't call the police because I was the one spying on him. I'm really scared. I locked the door and all my windows, but there is no way I'm going to sleep tonight!"

The entry was dated for three days ago, and Sonya was most likely killed the next morning. Witchcraft seemed more and more likely. Hector wouldn't be the first young person drawn into magic who let things get out of control. Although it was weird that Hector would use magic to kill the Emily and Reverent Wilson, but not Sonya. Maybe he needed something for his spell?

As he mused over what he had learned, Dean came back in. He still had the phone to his ear and was nodding to whatever he was hearing. Sam waved, catching Dean's attention.

"Hold on a sec," he said into the phone before covering it with his hand. "What?" he asked.

"Ask Georgie if she knows anything about Hector's book?"

Dean quirked an eyebrow but did as he asked. Apparently, the girl did have something to say because the conversation continued for a few more minutes. All Sam could hear was Dean's occasional "uh-huh" before he finally wrapped it up and said goodbye.

"So, what did she say?" Sam asked even before Dean had put down the cell. His brother had a satisfied look that suggested Georgie had told him something helpful.

"Not too much. She was pretty broken up about Sonya. Thankfully she is staying with her uncle Eddie right now, so I think she's safe for the moment. Georgie did confirm that Hector had a bit of a reputation for being socially awkward. The girls in the CCF thought he was mostly harmless, but they generally tried to avoid him. But I spoke with Chief Lopez. Apparently, other than a warning for trespass, there's nothing official on file about Hector. Still, rumour has it that when he was an undergraduate, he stalked some girl who worked in the library. She was so freaked out she withdrew from classes and moved home. It was never formally reported. And he says there is graffiti around campus naming Hector as a peeping tom."

"Graffiti isn't exactly evidence," Sam pointed out.

"No, but it means he did something noteworthy enough to be called out by name."

"True," Sam conceded. "Did she say something about a book?"

"Just that Hector would carry it around in his backpack all the time. Why?"

"The night before she died, Sonya decided to turn the tables and spy on him. She says Hector was reading out of a big book – one that wasn't in English and gave her a bad feeling. I think he's been dabbling in magic. It would explain the weird stone thing." Sam held out the page of the diary for Dean to read.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and scanned the words. A hard look crossed his face. "Son of a bitch. The little weasel must have killed her because of what she saw. I say we go pay Hector a little visit."

"We don't know where he is."

At that Dean smiled and waggled his phone. "Maybe we do. Georgie said she heard Hector tell the late Reverend Wilson that he inherited his uncle's place. Probably still in the dead guy's name."

"I read something about an uncle…" Sam pulled the computer closer and quickly dug up the obituary and then an address for Camilo Yanez. The dead man's home was in the north part of town. He spun the screen in Dean's direction. "Found it!" Dean looked impressed and Sam's heart did that stupid little skip it always did when he thought he'd made his brother proud.

xxxxxxx

Somehow, Sam pulled an address out of thin air. Damn, his brother was smart. Now that they had a location, they could stop sitting around and go catch this guy before he killed anyone else. Getting up, Dean rifled through their weapons bag.

"Whadya say we go pay Hector a visit?" he asked, racking the slide on his Colt with a loud click. Taking out their bullet case, he flipped it open. Inside were an impressive variety of bullets; iron, silver, blessed and most importantly the witch-killing type. They hadn't known what they were hunting when they left the bunker, so he'd made sure to bring a little of everything.

As he prepared his weapon, Dean mentally prepared to kill Hector. Despite what many people thought about him, Dean had never enjoyed killing. He wasn't one of those sickos who got off on the power or the violence. It was just a part of the job, a facet that he'd accepted before he was out of his teens. Sure, taking out monsters, human or otherwise, could be satisfying. But not because of the blood and the death. It was about saving people, making the world a little better, safer for the civilians. He truly believed that.

"You okay?" Sam asked. Apparently, some of what he'd been thinking had shown on his face because Sam was looking at him with concern. Dean flashed his brother a crooked grin.

"Locked and loaded."