Nearly six hours later, the boys turned onto Washington Highway 2. The narrow road was lined with trees on both sides. There wasn't a town in sight.

Dean shook his head. "I dunno, man; I think we should have taken the other turn back there."

Sam was feeling his patience wearing thin. Nothing like a long stretch of road with no chance of turning around to make one suspect that he needs to!

"Well, there's not much we can do about it now, Dean!" Sam recalled the young Isabella—their reason for driving all the way out here—and looked at the map for the fortieth time. Leavenworth fell right alongside Highway 2. If they just kept driving, maybe—

"Whoa, hold up!" Dean saw glimpses of rooftops among the trees, and then a sign proclaiming "Welcome To Leavenworth!"

Just like that, they were driving through a small Bavarian ski village.

Dean and Sam stared out either window as they drove past.

"What...the..." Dean muttered.

The Cascade Mountains looming in the background could have been the Alps. Every building had the same cross-beam facade, with the cutesy Swiss window boxes, and even a blue-and-white Maypole on display. People milled everywhere, carrying shopping bags and snapping selfies in front of the various landmarks and shops. This really was a tourist town.

"I guess we're here," Sam remarked.

Their first stop was the Visitor's Center. The two brothers dropped the gawking looks and put on serious faces. They flashed their badges at the young man standing behind the counter.

"I am Agent Fogerty; is there a safety official in town?"

The young man gaped for a moment, till a voice said, "That would be me."

A rotund man with more hair on the front of his head than the top emerged from an office behind the counter. He wore a star-shaped badge on his pocket, and he held out his hand.

"Sheriff Goodson is my name; you two the investigators Chelan was going to send?"

Both brothers began tucking their badges away. "Yes," Dean said. "As I said, I'm Agent Fogerty, this," he indicated Sam, "is Agent Clifford. Now, just to be clear, the victim's name is Isabella Lebedova?"

Goodson nodded. "Yep; still haven't found her, poor girl. The S&R team is still combing the mountainsides. Can't think where else she might have run off to—" he glanced at them. "But maybe Chelan has more intel?"

Dean shook his head. "Sorry, the district sent us out as a fresh pair of eyes. Said we were to approach this situation as if we hadn't heard anything about it. That way, we might uncover something we missed before."

It was a long shot, and Goodson gave them a long, puzzled stare—but the art of selling a bluff wasn't so much saying the bluff as maintaining it afterwards... And the boys had lots of practice maintaining bluffs.

Finally, the sheriff relented. "Sounds like some kind of psychological hogwash, but at this point, I guess we're about ready to try anything!" He threw up his hands and nodded to the boys. "You best try the library, then, and talk to Betty. She's the one who first noticed Bella was missing."

Dean made a mental note of the name. "Thank you, Chief; that's exactly what we'll do."

Sam nodded too, "Thank you, sir."

Goodson snorted as they left the building. "Don't thank me yet; you ain't found anything."

The two brothers strode out to the Impala—but Dean stopped just short of unlocking it. He tucked the keys back in his pocket and came around the front.

"Dude," he said, nudging Sam and pointing, "the library's right there."

Sure enough, the Leavenworth Library happened to be on the same block as the Visitor's Center. The boys walked down to it.

The inside was hushed, as the books resting on the eclectic mix of short and tall shelves absorbed most of the ambient sound.

Dean and Sam moved to the checkout counter, where a bland-faced brunette clicked over some information on her computer.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me—"

"Yes?" The woman looked up, and they saw that her nametag read "BETTY." They flashed badges quickly and officiously as Dean said, "Sheriff Goodson sent us over here; we're investigating—"

"Bella's disappearance," Betty hung her head. "I know. But—" she glanced at them quizzically, "I thought there were already cops working on this."

The second part of maintaining a bluff was staying consistent. Dean smiled. "Yes, we know; we're just a couple new agents from the field office in Chelle-Rae—" He bungled the name.

"Chelan," Sam supplied seamlessly. "And our supervisor thought that this might be a good way to test our training, see if we might notice anything others have missed."

"We just want to ask you a few questions about Bella and your relationship to her," Dean finished.

Betty began subtly tugging on her cardigan. "Well, ah, we worked together, if that's what you mean. But we weren't, like, friends or anything. We had opposite shifts. She usually opens, and I usually close." Betty closed her eyes as if trying to recall a memorized story. "On that day she disappeared, I came in at one because that's when my shift starts, and nobody had seen Bella at all. We had her contact info on file, but nobody except her parents answered, and they had no idea where she went. That's when I knew—" Betty started the sentence but stopped herself with a gasp.

Dean squinted at her. "Knew what?"

"Knew that she was gone," Betty stammered.

"Betty," Sam continued with the interview, "let's talk about the week she disappeared. Do you remember if she had been acting strangely at all?"

Betty blinked, as bright red splotches appeared on her cheeks. "No, not really..."

"Did you ever see anything out of place around here?" Dean suggested. "Maybe some strange objects or symbols—"

"Symbols?" Betty shrieked, clutching the counter so hard that her knuckles were white. "N-no, I never saw anything like—"

"How about smells?" Sam wondered where the fear was coming from. What was innocent, dowdy Betty trying to hide? "Anything like rotten eggs, or cinnamon?"

Betty was visibly trembling now. "N-no," she stammered. "I didn't—that wasn't—" Suddenly her face twisted into an ugly grimace and she burst into tears.

"I DID IT!" she screamed. "IT WAS ME! IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

Dean just about dove over the counter to get her quiet, as the whole library froze and stared at the two men in dark suits confronting an hysterical young woman.

Sam turned to address the crowd. "It's all right; just a routine investigation. She's just a little worked up, but she's fine. Nothing to see here, move along!"

A lot of the customers did move along—right out the door. Dean and Sam moved around the counter to lead Betty to a book nook at the back of the library where they could talk privately.

Betty gulped deeply, but regained enough composure to answer their questions.

"Betty," Sam began, "what did you mean, you did it? What exactly did you do?"

Betty sniffed and dabbed at the tears streaming down her face. "I put a spell on Bella," she answered.

The brothers tensed. Was this girl a witch after all? "A spell? Like a magic spell?" Dean asked.

Betty shrugged, "I don't know; I guess! I was pretty mad at her over something, I don't remember what, and so I did the spell to summon a djinn and I wished for her to disappear—" she choked as the tears started afresh, "and now she's gone!"

Dean watched her carefully. "Did you tell anyone about this?"

Betty shrugged. "Nobody ever asked if I had anything to do with it, and I knew no one would believe me." She looked between the brothers in surprise, "Do you believe me?" she gasped.

Sam frowned; witches weren't usually this forthcoming, especially around Hunters like them. "Betty, where did you get this, uh, djinn-summoning spell?"

The brunette slowly gnawed her lower lip. "From a book," she answered in a small voice.

Dean placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Betty, we want to help you make this right; what book gave you the spell?"

Betty gulped hard, but reached into her handbag and pulled out a battered paperback. "This one." She handed it to Dean with shaking hands. "I found it in the Bargain Bin just randomly one night," she wailed, "and I just wanted to just try it one time! I didn't know it would work!"

Sam watched his brother's face carefully; was it fear or disbelief on Dean's face?

Dean held up the book and read the title. "One Hundred Creepy Spells For A Really Spooky Slumber Party?" He glanced at Betty with a tilted eyebrow. "This told you how to summon a djinn?"

Betty took the book back and flipped through it. "Yeah, it's right here, see? How To Summon A Djinn and Make A Wish."

Dean took one look and handed the book to Sam. The younger Winchester—and resident lore-master—knew instinctively that the directions listed were sheer bogus. Not one action amounted to anything remotely mystical. He put the book down and met the bereaved librarian's gaze.

"Betty," Sam assured her, "I am happy to inform you that there is no possible way this spell of yours could have anything to do with Bella's disappearance."

The resurgence of hope dried the tears welling in her eyes. "You think so?" She sniffed and gave a sad smile. "Oh right, because this kind of magic stuff isn't real."

Dean snorted and prodded the book with his finger. "No, you could say that again!"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"So if I didn't do it," Betty murmured, "who did?"

Sam shrugged. "We've only just started trying to figure that out."

"I think our next order of business should be to talk to her parents," Dean said. "You said they live around here, Betty?"

She nodded. "On Icicle Road; here, I'll get the address." She stood and moved back to the checkout counter, and the two men followed.

She gave Sam a slip of paper with an address and a number on it. Dean nodded to her.

"If you think of anything else, give Sheriff Goodson a call, all right?" He suggested as they left.

"Wait!" Betty scurried up to them. "There is something else," she whispered. "I thought it might have been the spell, but you said it wasn't, so—"

"What did you see?" asked Sam.

"Well, the day before she disappeared, she called me in early, said she had an important meeting set before the end of her shift and needed me to cover for her. So I went down at eleven, and Bella was just drifting through the motions, like she was in a fog or something. She kept dropping things and forgetting what she was saying, and every time she passed that window—" she pointed to one of the windows at the front of the building, "she would always stop and stare, like she was watching for somebody. At about twelve-thirty, suddenly she says she feels dizzy and she's going home. I asked her about the meeting, and she didn't remember that she had told me about it." Betty's chin trembled. "And that's the last time I saw her."

Dean nodded. "Thanks for telling us that."

"I hope you find her," said Betty.

Down Icicle Road, they finally found the little brown house where Mr. and Mrs. Lebedova lived.

The couple welcomed them kindly.

"You're here to find our daughter?" Clay asked anxiously.

Dean nodded to him. Susan handed the brothers a framed photograph of a girl with dark hair, a stunning complexion, and bright, beautiful eyes. "That's Bella. She was always such a happy child. Everybody loved her here. We lived in Seattle and would vacation out here from time to time, and when she went to college, Clay and I got a house here in town and decided to settle in and retire. Of course, after college, Isabella decided to join us, and got a job at the library—" the tears began. "The police keep suggesting that maybe she ran off, but she was always so happy and friendly, everybody liked her... She loved it here, why would she leave?"

"I was here, the day Bella came home early from work," Clay offered. "She packed a suitcase and told me she was just going out to the family cabin for a few days. She always kept her word before, so when a week went by and she wasn't returning any calls, Sue and I were certain something was wrong."

Dean handed the photo back to Susan. "We talked to her friend Betty, at the library," he said. "She mentioned that Bella had mentioned meeting someone, and that she kept watching out the window. Can you tell us about anyone Bella might be involved with?"

Husband and wife shared a glance. "Er, involved?" Susan repeated. "No, not really..."

"If she was, she never told us about it," Clay supplied quickly, "but Bella wasn't that kind of girl. She would never get taken up with someone dangerous."

The brothers made eye contact. They were definitely hiding something.

"How about this cabin of yours?" Sam switched topics. "You said she intended to go out there?"

Clay shrugged, "That's what she told me, anyway. It's the vacation spot that has been in my family for generations. Just a simple little cabin up in the mountains, away from city lights and cell service. A great retreat, for sure."

"Could you give us the address, so we can go out and take a look around there?" Dean asked.

"Of course, anything for federal investigators," Clay obliged, heading for the desk in the corner. "But I'll warn you, the police investigated it just last week, and they said they didn't find anything."

Dean smiled as he accepted the scrap of paper. "I know, we just want to be thorough. Maybe we'll catch something they missed." All four stood and shook hands. "Thank you for your time."

"Good luck, boys," Clay said amiably. "I hope you find our daughter."