"Hi, excuse me, I'm looking for a book on local history and I can't find it on the shelf."

"That's because it's been checked out," the librarian said.

"Can you check that for me?" he asked.

"I know it for a fact, the same girl has checked out all of the local history books, she's working on some project." the librarian said.

"Do you know where I can find her?" he asked.

"She usually works in the basement, you can find her there, just take those stairs and you'll find her." The librarian pointed to a red door.

"Thanks," he walked away, opened the door, and descended into the basement.

He opened the door and stepped out into a well lit corridor, he could hear faint typing and decided to follow it. He arrived at a door the typing sound was louder. He pushed the door open, he could see someone typing at a computer, papers all around them. He cleared his throat and then saw the headphone cable connected to a phone. He tapped on their shoulder.

"Jesus Christ!" she spun around quickly, "Who the hell are you?"

"Dean, Dean Winchester, the librarian told me I could find you down here."

"You scared me half to death," she had a hand to her chest.

"Sorry, don't get much company?" Dean asked.

"No, no one uses microfilm that much. I'm Hazel, what are you looking for? The newspaper microfilm is down along that wall, it starts back in ummm the 1860s?" Hazel said.

"Actually, I'm interested in a book you checked out, I wondered if I could take a look at it." Dean said.

Hazel looked him up and down, "which book?"

"The history of Saint James, the one written in the 1930s," Dean said.

"I don't have it on me, it's too fragile, it's back in my room." Hazel said.

"Is there anyway I can see it?" Dean asked.

"What are you looking for?" Hazel asked.

"Just trying to track down a family member." Dean said.

"Bull shit." Hazel said.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked.

"There's nothing like that in that book." Hazel said.

"How do you know?" Dean asked.

"I read it." Hazel said.

She crossed her legs and leaned back. She looked him up and down. His boots were dirty, the jeans showed wear, his leather jacket was well loved, and he had a strange necklace on.

"I need to look at the book," Dean said.

"Why?" Hazel said.

"I don't have time for games," Dean said gruffly.

"Neither do I," Hazel said.

They stared each other down, "I'm looking into the murders," Dean said hesitantly.

"Was that so hard?" Hazel asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, "can you help me?"

"Not at the moment," Hazel said.

Dean couldn't believe his luck, he couldn't find his Dad, he was stuck tracking down some book and now the girl with the book wouldn't even help him.

"There's more information elsewhere if you know how to look for it, the book doesn't tell the whole story. I'm not done finishing my data run down here, but if you grab us something to eat later this evening I'll show you what I have."

"Where do you want to meet?"

"My apartment is fine, I live above the pharmacy."

"What time?"

"Around 6," she said, "I'll see you then."

She turned back to the computer and started typing again. Dean sighed, he left the library and called his brother, Sam.

"Any luck?" Sam asked.

"No, some girl checked has the whole town history checked out and won't let me see it, unless I come over to her apartment this evening."

"Dean..."

"It wasn't my idea! Don't start any of your crap with me."

With that Dean snapped his phone shut.