Hello, hello! Wow, it's been even longer since I updated this one. Sorry about that. Life and stuff and things and chaos and a gazillion everythings that kept me from writing anything but homework papers. But I'm back and I have frrrrresh content!

Back with our fave boys! And a building mystery! Although most of this is just some delightful Winchester dialogue. What can I say? I love to hear mah boys talk ;)

Enjoy!

The Impala rolled up to the Bell Tower the next morning and Dean climbed out, heading inside for some breakfast. Sam followed, rolling his eyes with a long-suffering sigh. Dean ignored him, like he'd been doing all morning since they'd gotten up.

The sign said 'Please Be Seated' in that lovely, flowing script that meant Mikaela was working.

Dean was grinning as he slid into a booth and Sam rolled his eyes again.

Mikaela came up a moment later. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Coffee for me," Dean smiled. "And a juice box for Sammy."

Sam scowled at him. "Coffee, please," he told Mikaela pleasantly.

Mikaela nodded, not really reacting beyond a tiny quirk of an eyebrow. "Be right back," she smiled professionally and walked off.

"Really, Dean," Sam deadpanned.

"Hey, if you're gonna act like a child…" Dean shrugged.

"How am I acting like a child?" Sam demanded.

"You think I came back here just because she was working," Dean informed him archly.

"You did," Sam shot back.

Dean pointed at him. "I resent that accusation."

"Then let's change tables," Sam suggested.

"Why?"

"What do you care? You're only here for the food, anyway," Sam smirked.

Mikaela plunked two mugs in front of them and poured the steaming coffee. Then, she set down a little plate of cream and sugar.

Then she set down two juice boxes.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked sweetly.

Dean froze, staring at the juice box with a startled expression.

"Yes," Sam smiled and Dean shot him a look. Sam ignored him and ordered his breakfast of choice and Dean was left scrambling to choose something without losing his cool in front of her. He managed, but just barely.

When Mikaela walked away, Sam erupted into snickering laughter.

"I like her," he grinned.

"Get your own," Dean grumbled at him.

"Maybe she prefers a four-cheese soufflé to bacon," Sam goaded his brother.

Dean gave him a dead-eyed stare. "How dare you insinuate that anything could be superior to bacon."

"Maybe she likes jogging in the morning," Sam continued, calmly stirring his coffee.

Now Dean just looked horrified. "What—"

"And nature documentaries," Sam smirked.

"Sam, I will stab you with my spoon," Dean threatened.

Two plates plunked down softly in front of them and the boys looked up like they'd been caught with the cookie jar.

Dean recovered first. "That was quick," he smiled.

"You don't stay a cook long if you can't crank out the meals," she laughed.

"Do you like jogging?" he asked conversationally and Sam hid a smirk behind a drink of coffee.

Mikaela cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying I need to start?"

Dean's smile evaporated into a look of panic. "No! No, of course not! I… uhhh… I was just… curious, you know?" he nodded with a nervous smile.

"Hm," she nodded with a smirk and set down a second, smaller plate for him.

Instead of the standard two strips of bacon, he had four.

"Enjoy," she smiled. "Let me know if you need anything."

Sam snickered as she walked off. "Dude, you are so gone."

"What?" Dean said disparagingly.

"She's got you wrapped already and you haven't even had a date!"

Dean scowled at him and stabbed his fork into his soufflé.

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed indignantly as Dean ate the bite he'd stolen.

"Oh, blegh," Dean made a face of disgust. "How could you eat that? I thought I raised you better."

Sam shook his head, glaring but unable to find anything on Dean's plate he wanted to steal and eat as vengeance. Then his eyes went up to the television in the corner.

"Dean," he nodded to it.

"Not falling for that, Sammy," Dean grinned knowingly.

"No, dude, seriously, the news," Sam insisted seriously and Dean turned around.

"Can you turn that up?" he called over and the volume increased.

"…found just this morning. Authorities say that Susan Welch had bruises on her arms and fractured wrists, indicating that she'd fought back against her attacker. They are confident that this will lead them to her killer quickly, before they strike again."

They showed a clip of the house, the bruises on the victim's arms.

"Sam," Dean turned back to his plate. "Those aren't bruises," he said quietly.

"Frost burns," Sam agreed. "Ghost?"

"Most likely," Dean nodded and sighed. "We really can't get away, can we?"

"Dean, we don't have to get involved," Sam told him. "We're just two out-of-towners, passing through. There's no reason that has to change."

"I can't just let this go, Sam," Dean said with painful earnestness. "I can't. This… this is who I am. It's what I do. It's the family business," he nodded, firm in his decision, even if he was unhappy.

"Okay," Sam nodded. "How do you want to play this?"

"I dunno," Dean sighed. "Can't pretend to be official, 'cause they'll run our pictures and then…"

"End of the road," Sam nodded grimly. "So, just… ground stomping?"

Dean nodded and actually smiled a bit, shoulders relaxing when Sam used their term for 'general nosiness, trespassing and stalking'. "Ground stomping."

Skulking around in the dark around a house surrounded in crime scene tape suddenly seemed just as unwise as pretending to be federal agents or marshals and walking into the precinct.

"Dean, we can't go into the house!" Sam hissed as his brother examined the lock. "They'll have our footprints and everything else and we just got off the hook for murder!"

"Relax, Sammy," Dean grinned that devil-may-care grin. "I've done this before."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"Ah-ha!" Dean held up a spare key. "Under the flower pot. As usual. C'mon, Sam, let's go."

"Our shoes, Dean," Sam repeated shortly. "Shoes."

Dean smugly held up some forensic shoe covers and Sam gave him a deadpan look.

"You couldn't have mentioned that before?"

"You never asked, Sammy," Dean grinned and slipped a pair on over his boots, then put on a pair of gloves too.

The inside of the house, aside from the chalk outline and demolished living room, was immaculate, so they focused their search in the living room first. After about thirty minutes and a search of the rest of the house, Dean's detector hadn't even let out a squawk.

"Okay… maybe it's something she was wearing or… something she keeps at work," Sam suggested.

"Maybe," Dean nodded. "Let's find out."

They left everything exactly as they'd found it and quietly made their back to the Impala, parked about five blocks away in an alley.

A figure watched them go from the shadows.