JUST A QUICK NOTE....I just need to inform all readers, that even though I have never been very good a geography, plus because I live in England, I'm not at all familiar with places in the USA, BUT, I have tried my very best to make sure that the place names etc.. at least sound just convincing enough...maybe you could let me know how I've done in reviews.

ALSO, A WARNING....this story mentions suicide style deaths, if you feel as if this is unsuitable material for you, do not read the story!

PART TWO WILL BE UP IN A COUPLE OF DAYS....it's nearly finished now anyway!




Sam Winchester approached his brother Dean slowly and cautiously. He was limping due to the gun-shot wound that he had acquired just yesterday. Luckily it hadn't been too serious, Dean had only just managed to hit the side of his calf with the bullet, though it had still caused quite a lot of blood which had soaked into the rip on his jeans. It had hurt like hell to get here so that he could save his brother in time.

As he got closer, he held up his hands in front of him as if to encourage Dean to stop what he was doing, and to show that he didn't need to feel threatened by his presence. Tears rolled down his dirty face, and glittered in the white and silvery light of the full-moon that engulfed them.

But, Dean had his back to Sam. He was looking into the valley below the cliff edge that he was standing precariously on, glaring down through his own tears that he made no effort to fight, and into the precipice of darkness that was inviting him down to lose himself in for good. To lose the way that he felt right now. The overwhelming surge of emotion that had sparked up from out of nowhere. Years worth of pain had finally climbed out from the deepest darkest parts of his heart, and had unleashed its full burden upon the bearer. He felt like he might explode at any moment as the pressure continued to build, easing the fast flowing tears through his eyes as it prepared to violently surface. He didn't want to feel this way any more. He'd had enough.

"Dean," Sam sobbed, "please don't do this. I need you, I...I can't do this without you. This isn't you Dean..." with those words, he shifted a sideways glance to the right, to the black robed spirit that stood eerily next to Dean, mirroring even his slightest movement. The darkness oozed from it, sending a shiver down Sam's spine. If that's how it made him feel, he dreaded to think what it was doing to Dean's thoughts and feelings. Its evilness had infiltrated his brother and he needed to think fast. He needed to stop it now before it made it's final move on him. Before it made Dean jump to his death...

Three Days Earlier...

"Okay Sammy, what we got?" Dean asked enthusiastically before shovelling a fork-full of his Monty's Diner special of bacon and scrambled egg breakfast into his mouth. As he chewed, a few bits of egg managed to escape and dropped off his chin. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, trying to work out how it had even been possible for him to miss a mouth of that size.

"Well," Sam said trying to ignore his brother's eating habits as best as he could so that he could begin to concentrate on the more important issue of why they had travelled all the way here to Arkansas, "There has been some strange deaths in a town called Pulaski in Little Rock. Four in the last two months." as he was telling Dean what he knew, he had his laptop on the table, and was looking through website articles that detailed the last woman's death along with her photograph.

"So, how'd they die?" Dean asked in a mumble. His mouth was still full.

"The coroner said it was a suicide in each case, but I really don't think that it was." he stared hard and thoughtfully at the photo. "This woman here, the latest one to die, was Sharon Reeves. She jumped in front of a bus a week ago while her teenage daughter Chloe, witnessed from the sidewalk. It says here, that when Chloe was questioned by the police afterwards, she claimed to have seen a dark shadow right besides her mother as the bus hit, so at first, they thought that there might have been somebody involved in her mothers death. But they ruled it out a couple of days later, claiming that Chloe was under so much emotional strain, that they hadn't got anything to prove that what she saw wasn't just a result of that stress. Then, that night, Chloe went around to the local sheriff's department, and had an outburst. Caused such a disturbance, that she was admitted to the psychiatric ward."

Sam looked up to see that Dean was staring at him. His plate empty in front of him. "Dude! You've eaten that already?"

"Yep!" Dean sighed as he slouched down lazily into the faux red leather seat, "A personal best." with that, he let out a fairly large belch which caused the slim blonde waitress to cease pouring coffee for the customer in the next booth, and look up at him disgustedly. He grinned cheekily at her, causing her to turn her nose up and walk back to the serving counter as fast as she could. "Ah, she'd have never managed to handle me anyway!" he chuckled.

"Dean! Do you think we can get back to this?" Sam snapped in an irritated tone.

"Oooo sorry Mr Extra-Credit! Didn't mean to interrupt your homework by havin' fun. You remember what that is don't you Sammy? Fun? A few beers, a girl, a pair of handcuffs, a king-sized bed, and..."

"Dean!" he cut-in, preventing Dean's perverted sexual fantasies to be shared out loud, "That's not why we're here."

"Okay, okay!" Dean responded looking disappointed, "Its just you could have warned me that I'd be forced into celibacy, I could have become a nun instead! Would be a lot safer then doin' this gig too..."

Sam was scowling at him, waiting for some sense to set into his older brother before they could continue.

"Look, what's to say that lady didn't commit suicide, and that shadow wasn't just a...well, normal shadow. Of course the daughter is gonna be seeing things, she saw her mom get squashed all over the road. Would kinda mess with your head a bit."

"Dean, of all the people to say something like that..." Sam gazed in disbelief at Dean's attitude towards this, thoughts of their own late mother washed painfully over his mind. Sometimes he wondered if this was his brothers way of coping with all of this. Shutting things away so that he didn't have to deal with them. "We lost our mom from something sinister," he sighed heavily, "if it was something supernatural that caused Mrs Reeves and the others to commit suicide, we need to help. It might happen again, I really think that we have to check it out."

"I'm sorry man. Its just, I don't know if it sounds like one of our kind of jobs, y'know." Dean's voice had chilled out now. Sam believed that was due to bringing up mom. Dad had always used that trick when they were younger, to help spur them on in their training. It had worked every time without fail.

Sam looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Alright! We'll check it out." Dean gave in.

Sam and Dean decided that they would drive straight over to see Chloe Reeves at the psychiatric hospital to see if they could get any more information from her. They decided that they would go in disguised as special agents, so they had dressed accordingly in black suits and had donned neckties; a get-up that always made Dean feel as if he looked really stupid, even though it complimented his handsome features.

Once they had arrived, they cautiously entered the hospital, taking care to make sure that there were no real cops about. Luckily, there were no such threats, so they approached the receptionist at the counter.

"Excuse me Miss," Dean said to the pretty brunette, smiling pleasantly. He quickly flashed a fake badge, not giving her enough time to see it too well, "I'm Officer Starsky, and this," he motioned over to Sam, "is Officer Hutch."

Sam fought the desperate urge to roll his eyes at Dean's choice of alias. Sometimes he made them so obvious, he was sure that one day very soon, they would have security set onto them straight away without warning.

"We are here," Dean continued, "to talk to Miss Chloe Reeves regarding the recent death of her mother. We need to make sure that we have all of the correct information we need in order to finish up the paperwork before we can close the case."

"Oh," the brunette said, "I thought the police had already got everything that they needed." she was obviously instantly attracted to Dean, much to Sam's annoyance, and was smiling in a flirtatious way back, running her long red fingernails through her shoulder-length locks.

Dean had seen women react this way so many times, he knew the best way to get what he wanted, was to play the game back.

"Y'know," he whispered quietly, leaning in closer to her, reading her name off her badge, "I'm not really supposed to tell you this, Sarah, but Hutch here, he kind of accidently shredded some important documents, and we need to re-do some of it before the boss finds out he screwed up. You wouldn't be able to help us out would you? It won't take long, and I may even have time to get you a coffee on your break afterwards." he grinned hopefully at the flattered girl, who Sam was guessing was a newbie here, and obviously hadn't been informed that she shouldn't help out just any old guy who strolled in and started trying to seduce her. Female staff acting this recklessly, he imagined, would rather go against hospital policy, but Dean did seem to have that kind of effect on woman. A sad fact that he'd had to get used to.

Sarah held a fingertip to her lip, and seemed to think about this for a few seconds, it was either that, or she was just taking advantage of the chance to stare at the handsome stranger for a few moments longer. "Okay," she finally said, in a nearly giggle-like voice. She handed them visitor passes, then, she pressed a button on a small panel on the counter in front of her, which made a door to the right let off a slight buzzing noise. "Shes in ward three which is on the next floor, room number eleven."

"Thankyou." said Dean winking as they walked past her and through the door. "Like putty in my hands." he remarked in a highly contented tone once it had shut securely behind them.

"Dude! Your so full of yourself. Y'know, one of these days your lucks gonna run out." Sam cursed.

"Ha! Not with the woman! What can I say Sammy, I've got charm. When I'm good, I'm good, but when I'm bad, I'm better! If you took a leaf out of my book every now and then, you might get to see a little action." with that, he slapped Sam playfully across the back.

Sam came to a stop and huffed moodily as Dean continued his brisk walk towards the stairs that led up to the next floor.

"C'mon Hutch, or next time I'll tell 'em that your names Huggy Bear!" Dean shouted without looking back.

Sam sighed heavily as he began walking off to join him.

Chloe Reeves was sat cross-legged and motionless on her bed as Sam and Dean entered the room. She didn't even look up to see who was here, she just stared blankly at the plain white wall in front of her. Her long straight blonde hair was draped lankly over her shoulders, her eyes had dark rims underneath as if she had been severely sleep deprived.

The brothers walked slowly forwards, and stopped just in front of her gaze.

"Hello Chloe. My names Sam, and this is Dean. We need to ask you a few questions about what happened to your mom, that's if you feel up to it." Sam's words were silky, soft and gentle, and edged with genuine sympathy. He knew that the 'Jennifer Love-Hewitt approach' bugged his brother, but he refused not to treat each situation with the tenderness that it deserved. The sixteen year old girl in front of them, had just been to her own personal hell and back, and they needed to be sensitive if they were to get anywhere. Luckily for once, Dean seemed to hold back and let him take the drivers seat here.

After a few long moments, Chloe looked into Sam's eyes. The brothers got their first proper look at the girl. Her skin was dull and her cheeks sallow. Her dark brown eyes showed her deep pain.

"Can you tell us what happened that day?" Sam continued.

"I...I've already told everyone. Nobody believes me. They just think I'm crazy." she said quietly.

"It's okay, you can trust us. We've heard all sorts in our line of work. Whatever you have to say, we'll understand." Sam encouraged her gently.

"Really?" she went on, "Have you ever heard someone saying that they saw a ghost?"

Dean coughed uncomfortably, as Sam shot him a knowing look. They had to be careful about what they said about themselves here, otherwise they might end up being admitted to the ward themselves. They had to play it as dumb as possible.

"A ghost?" Sam asked, "Can you describe what exactly you think you saw?"

Chloe looked slightly puzzled at this question, but answered anyway. "It was black, but kinda see-through, like a shadow. And it looked like it had a hooded robe on. Its hard to describe it any other way."

"And you saw this ghost just before your mom died?" Dean asked, finally participating with the questions.

"Yeah, but..." Chloe paused.

"What? What is it?" Sam asked guessing that there was a lot more to this.

"I saw it before then too, about a day before."

"Where did you see it?" Sam asked curiously.

"Well, I was at home, sitting at the table in the kitchen, and mom came in. As she walked past me, I saw it. It was like it was following her. But then it disappeared and I didn't see it again until she...died..." her voice trailed off as she started to cry.

Sam gently took a seat on the bed beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "I'm sorry." he said in a soft whisper.

"Look, Chloe. We have just one more question," said Dean, Sam nodded at him, acknowledging that it was about time that they should leave her in peace, "Your mom, was there any change in her behaviour before she died?"

Chloe rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, and took a deep breath before she looked up at Dean. "Yeah, she seemed, I dunno, kinda down. I remember thinking that it was unlike her. She was usually so happy, so full of life..." she couldn't manage to say any more, the weeping had started up again and wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Sam rubbed her back gently, before getting up to join Dean, leaving her to grieve and go through the motions.

"So what now?" Dean asked as they had got back into the Impala. He turned the key, bringing the engine to life with a roar, and headed out of the parking lot.

"Well, I think we should visit the wife of the third victim. A Mrs Harris, her husband Phil slit his wrists in a dentists waiting room."

"Okay, Sam, now that sounds like a bona-fide suicide, I mean, I'd rather slit my wrists then get a tooth pulled."

"Not funny." said a very un-amused Sam. "Anyway, Phil Harris was a well respected professor at Little Rock University. He had a successful career, a truck-load of money, a wife and two kids; why would someone like that want to kill himself?"

"I don't know Sam. It just happens like that sometimes. People hide all sorts of shit inside and act like theres nothing wrong, pretending that they are in la de dah land."

"Anyway, his death came just four days before Sharon Reeve's, and I think its more then just a coincidence, I have a gut feeling about it."

"Yeah. Gotta love that gut." Dean responded sarcastically.

"So Mrs Harris," said Sam softly, "is there anything else that you can tell us about your husband's behaviour over the few days before he died?" The brothers had arrived at the Harris residence, still keeping up the agent guise, and had told her that they were sent to do a follow up report for their records. They sat on the black leather couch opposite to her, a pine effect coffee table was set in front of them. She had her right leg crossed over her left, and was wearing a short black dress, which Dean noticed, was riding up her thigh, and making him think inappropriate thoughts about the widow. Even though she was in her forties, she really was quite beautiful.

"Well," Mrs Harris began quietly, breaking Dean away from his secret fantasy, "he was acting kind of strangely those last few days." she stared into a tea-cup which she cradled in her hands just above her lap.

"Exactly what do you mean when you say Strangely?" Dean asked shooting a quick look at Sam.

"It was as if he was isolating himself. One of the days, he locked himself in the study for a whole day and wouldn't come out, not even to eat. He didn't show any interest in our children, Petey and Alisha." she sighed deeply, "It was as if he'd become a different person. I just don't understand what could have happened to him. Why he would have ended his life that way..." a few tears started to fall down her face, prompting her to remove a tissue from a box that was on the table next to her. She wiped her cheeks dry, then took in a few shallow breaths as she composed herself. "I'm sorry, It's just been really tough." she smiled bravely at Sam and Dean.

"We understand." Sam smiled slightly back.

"Can I just ask you," said Dean, "did anything...unusual happen around him while all of this was going on?"

Sam discreetly nudged him with his arm, as a puzzled look crossed over Mrs Harris' face.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Er..." started Dean looking at Sam, trying to find the careful version of words that he needed,"I mean, did you see anyone strange talking to him, or say for instance, following him?"

"Following him? I don't think that I quite understand...," she responded.

"What he means," Sam interrupted, "is, do you know of anyone who might have been trying to hurt your husband, did anyone have any grievances with him?"

"I don't think so...anyway, I thought it was confirmed as a suicide. Are you telling me that there might be more to this?" her tone had turned worried now.

Sam needed to be careful, "No no, not at all," he said calmly, "its just that we are required to ask all of these questions, just to be thorough."

Luckily, Mrs Harris seemed to relax slightly, "Oh, okay." she said.

The sudden high pitched ring of a telephone echoed from the hallway.

"I'm sorry, will you excuse me for just a moment." said Mrs Harris, as she got up to her feet, set down her tea cup on the coffee table, and made her way out to the hall to answer it.

"So what do you think?" Sam asked Dean in a whisper.

"Well I think we'd need to check out that dentists waiting room, maybe run the EMF over it, see if theres anything to this."

"Your actually interested in this now?" Sam asked, noticing a slight change in his brother's attitude towards this.

"Well, I guess it won't hurt to check it out, besides, now I realise that there is no way Mr Harris would have intentionally wasted himself."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Well, would you want to end it all if you were married to a MILF like her?" Dean motioned with a quick nod of his head towards the door.

"Dean!" snapped Sam, "The woman's husband has just died, and you've been eying her up!?"

"Well..." Dean smirked, "with him gone, she might get a bit lonely..."

Sam only responded with a look of disgust, as Mrs Harris walked back through the door and rejoined them.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm afraid I have to go out now, there is still so much to do. I have to go to go and collect the children from my sister's house. I took them over there so that I could get some things sorted out. They are really very upset about their father." she looked deeply saddened again.

"We understand, "said Sam politely, "We have everything that we need now anyway. Thank you for your time."

"So this is the room that it happened in?" Dean asked Mr Crutner, a short medium built man, with thick black rimmed glasses, who ran the practice.

"Yes," he replied, wiping a sleeve of his white coat across his brow.

"And no-ones had access to the room since?" asked Sam.

"Just the police, and the clean-up crew." as he said this, he stared at a patch of carpet to the back, which Sam guessed, had been where it all happened, as that area was a shade lighter, probably where the blood had been bleached from it. "But I've shut the doors to patients ever since it happened." Mr Crutner continued, "Truth is, nobody really wants to come in here anyway at the moment, its kind of freaked them all out. After what that man did...all that blood..." he trailed off, and shook his head, and Sam couldn't figure out if this was due to the frustration of his business being put on hold and losing him money, or wether it was because he was still shook up over the whole thing himself.

"Were you here the day that it happened?" Dean asked him.

"Yes, of course, but I was in with a patient; root canal. I was about half-way through the procedure when one of my staff burst through my door and informed me of what had happened." he sighed heavily.

"Mr Crutner," Sam began, "How many other patients were waiting in here when Mr Harris took his life?"

"Well actually, he was the last patient of the day, so he was in here by himself at the time."

"So who found him?" Dean asked curiously.

"Oh...um...the receptionist. It had scared the life out of her, poor woman. She'd only started working here that morning, hasn't been back since of course."

"We'll probably need to speak to her," Sam said, "Would you be able to give us an address, or a phone number?"

"Um...yes. I'll have to go and take a look on the computer for those. You won't mind waiting a few moments will you? I'm not so great operating those things if I'm honest."

"Sure. We don't mind waiting." said Dean, glad that he and Sam were about to be left alone long enough so that they could get the EMF out to do a check.

Mr Crutner left the room, and began his way down the hall to the reception area's only computer.

Dean closed the waiting room door after he left, and removed the EMF from his jacket pocket. He and Sam walked side by side slowly through the room, holding the meter out to scan the air.

"Nothing, it's clean." Dean grunted. "Well Sammy, if there was anything here, its gone now."

"Theres got to be something," Sam said, disappointment tainting his tone, "some sort of clue..." he bent down on his long legs at the edge of the faded spot on the carpet, and stared at it endlessly.

Dean turned the EMF off, and popped it back into his pocket. "Look Sam. Like I said before. Maybe these people really did kill themselves. Its not a total impossibility that these arn't connected to one another."

Sam didn't respond, he just sucked in a deep breath as he pondered over the situation. Okay, so far, they hadn't found anything all that helpful, but somehow, he just knew that something bad was at work here, even if Dean didn't think so. They didn't always agree, after all, and on occasion in the past, they had proved one-another wrong about certain things. Could this be another one of those moments?

The door suddenly flew open, and Mr Crutner strolled back into the room clutching a piece of paper in his right hand. "Here we are." he said, "Managed to find it quicker then I'd expected after all."

Sam stood up, and reached his hand out to grab the paper.

"Both the address and phone number are there, so you should be able to contact her easily enough..."

"Actually, I don't think that's going to be possible." Sam said cutting in, staring with surprised wide eyes at the details on the paper.

"Sammy? What is it?" Dean asked, snatching the paper from his brother's hand. After he'd read what was on it, he glanced up at Mr Crutner. "Sharon Greeves? She was the receptionist who found Phil Harris?"

"Yes...that's correct. You know of her?" he asked, looking worried now that Sam and Dean's expressions had changed dramatically.

"Yeah, you could say that." said Dean, "It just so happens that Mrs Greeves committed suicide as well...just four days after Mr Harris did." he turned to Sam, "Well looks like we got ourselves a connection here after all."

Little Rock University was alive with activity as students and professors moved to and fro through the great building. Sam and Dean made their way down the west corridor heading for the office of the late Professor Harris. At this point, although they had now made a connection between his and Mrs Greeve's deaths, they lacked further clues and leads, and they were hoping on the off chance, that they might stumble onto something here.

As they approached the end of the corridor, they saw a heavy oak door, with a name plaque indicating that it was Harris's office, and that he was the head of medical studies. Well, used to be, that is. To the left hand side was a display stand emblazoned with photos of the professor, a tribute set up by the staff and students of the University. A small round table stood next to the display, on top of which stood a large lit candle, its wax dribbling in spasms over the side.

A few of the passing students stopped to look over the photos, paying their respects in their own way. From the look of the carefully put together display, it was obvious that the professor had been well thought of here by everyone.

Sam and Dean themselves stood and gave the photos a glance. In most of them, Phil Harris was a beaming example of happiness, larking around with the students in class, all the way through to field trips where he put his expertise to practice, and passed on all of his valuable knowledge to his students. It was hard to believe, stood here looking at these, that this was the same man who died in the way he did.

The brothers suddenly turned at the sound of heels clicking on the hard floors, and saw a red-headed woman approach. As she came to a stop in front of the photo display, they could see that tears were running down her face.

"Such a loss..." she said whimpering, although she wasn't really talking to them, she was merely commenting on the situation out loud.

"Excuse me," Sam said softly to the woman after a few moments, "Do you work here?"

"Yes," the woman sniffed. She whipped a tissue out of her pocket, and mopped up her tears, suddenly aware that her emotions were on show so openly.

"My names Sam, and this is Dean. Were from the sheriffs department." They flashed there fake I.D.s.

The woman extended her hand in one quick motion, and took turns to shake with both Sam and Dean. "Elizabeth Ravenwood. I'm the dean here."

"We know that this is a very difficult time, but would we be able to ask you a few questions about the professor?" asked Sam.

"Yes...yes, of course." said Elizabeth, still sniffing to recover from the teary outburst.

"We just need a few more details for our records. In fact, it might even help if you would let us have a quick look around his office, if that is possible?" said Dean.

"Yes...um...here, come in." she withdrew a bunch a keys from her pocket, and unlocked the professor's office.

As they stepped inside, they noticed nothing unexpected, it was just a standard office, shelves full of books, and a large desk buried under an immense weight of paperwork; probably student papers that had been awaiting their turn to be graded.

Elizabeth walked around the back of the chair and up to the window behind. She pulled a cord which opened the blinds, lighting the room up a little more. It was easier on the eye then the yellowy artificial lights.

"How long had you been working here with professor Harris?" Sam asked.

"It would have been eight years this fall. I just can't believe that he's gone..."

"In that time that you worked with him, did you notice if he ever suffered from depression, or if maybe he might have fallen out with anybody here at the University?"

"Depression?" said Elizabeth, "No, he was always very happy, balanced. Well at least until just before he died..."

Dean and Sam locked gazes as this started to sound very familiar.

"So he was acting differently for a few days?" Sam asked.

"Yes, but of course, we all put it down to what happened the other week..."

"What? What happened the other week."

"One of his students, Max Fraser, died in a car smash. It was a terrible accident. Well, they still don't quite know if it was an accident or not. Some say that he crashed intentionally, that he was driving too recklessly for it not to be."

Again, Sam and Dean made eye contact at the information. Another suicide that was linked. Sam thought back hard to the articles that he'd read about the deaths on the net, and did vaguely remember the student's name.

"Do you think that it was suicide?" Dean asked.

"I just don't know. I mean, Max had his ups and downs like anyone. He was a quiet lad really, but very hard-working. It was his dream to become a doctor after graduation." she sighed heavily, "Would have made a damn fine one too." she stared out of the window which looked down on the parking lot.

"So, professor Harris was affected by his death?" Sam asked, although he would have thought, if that had been the case, his wife would surly have mentioned it to them.

"Well certainly not at first, well not what you would call emotionally. I think that he was more disappointed with Max then anything else. I suppose that he did feel partially responsible, after all, he did see it happen. "

"So he witnessed Max's death in person?" Sam asked.

"Yes. Happened out in the parking lot. He drove right into a wall at the north end. Phil was walking to get to his own car at the time when Max whizzed right past him. He said he shouted, and waved his arms about in an effort to encourage Max to brake. But of course, it was all over so quickly, there was nothing that he could do."

"Did he see anyone else with Max just before he died?" Dean asked.

"Well he said at first that he'd thought he'd seen someone else sitting in the passenger side, but when the EMTs arrived, they only found Max's body in the car."

"I think we have all of the information that we need now, so we should be on our way." said Sam, as he and Dean started a slow walk back to the door, "Thank you for your help."

"Do you know what doesn't make sense here Sammy?" Dean said as he stretched out on his bed when they had arrived back at the motel, "If Professor Harris witnessed one of his students commit Harry-Carry, then why didn't his wife mention it to us when we asked her what had happened on the lead-up to his death. Seeing that must have screwed with him right, which could have logically explained why he ended up isolating himself, and started acted strangely."

Sam opened up the laptop and set it on the small table in front of him, then he sat on the detestable burgundy PVC covered stool and turned it on. "I was wondering about that myself. Maybe she didn't think that was the cause of his change of behaviour, therefore didn't think to mention it."

"Oh come on man!" snapped Dean, sitting up, "It would have been the obvious thing to mention. Plus anyway, I'm sure I read somewhere once that if someone commits suicide, people they know are at an increased risk of following their lead, like some kind of chain reaction..."

"I don't think so Dean. These people were connected, but its not as if they were close friends or relatives, besides, Elizabeth Ravenwood said that Mr Harris mentioned that he thought he saw someone else in the car. Maybe it was the same as what Chloe Reeves saw when her mother died."

"Yeah...maybe..." Dean sighed, letting himself fall back onto the bed, his head sinking into the plump pillow.

As Dean caught up with some sleep, Sam spent a while looking back through the articles that had brought his attention to this job in the first place. He studied the article that detailed the 'accident' of Max. Again, their was a question mark over wether the police could say if that was all it was, and not indeed suicide. The police mechanics had examined the wreckage of his car, and at least from what they could tell out of the parts that were left, there was no evidence of foul play, or a mechanical fault.

He stretched his long body out whilst yawning. His eyelids felt heavy and sore from staring at the laptop's bright screen for so long. He twisted his upper body slightly and glanced over towards Dean who was still fast asleep, tucked up under the quilt safely with a peaceful expression on his face as he dreamed the night away.

To see Dean like this comforted him. Though they had both lost so much throughout their lives, his brother had become a constant. The simple sight of his one remaining family member, safe and sound just feet away from him, was reassuring.

Sam sighed as he turned his focus back on the laptop, the photo of the brown haired, fresh faced Max Fraser stared back at him. He was feeling frustrated that he couldn't figure out what was pushing these people to take their own lives, that there was no way to reassure their families.

He reached forward to the side of the computer, and grabbed his dad's journal, and started to carefully finger through the pages in hope of coming across something that matched the description of the 'black shadow' that had been witnessed in two of the three deaths here, and if dad had come across anything like it first hand.

After half an hour, he'd had no luck and his eyes were starting to blur over anyway, so he decided to call it a night. He stood up and made his way over to his bed, stripping off his t' shirt as he went. Finally, after pulling off his jeans, he climbed under his quilt pulling it snugly around himself and closed his eyes, he was asleep within moments.