Lincoln, Nebraska

Donning their FBI suits, Dean parked the Impala in front of the local police station. They got out, Sam fiddling with his ID badge in his pocket as they climbed the stairs into the building.

Just as they were about to flash their badges for the cop at the front desk, a petite woman in a tight pencil skirt suit and heels in front of them flashed hers. "Meg Markson, FBI," she said. Dean glanced at Sam, who gave him a subtle shrug. "I'm here to talk to your chief about the most recent disappearance, Hailey Jodiak."

The officer waved her through, stopping Dean and Sam as they tried to tag along by flashing their badges. "We're with her," Dean said, Sam trying to hold back his worried expression from Dean's impromptu move.

The cop eyed them, then waved them through. Both brothers exhaled in relief as they caught sight of the woman, who was several yards ahead of them. "Dean," Sam whispered, "she's a Fed, we're screwed."

"I got this," he said with a smirk, eyeing the woman's backside as they approached. "And she's got that," he added with an approving nod.

Sam tried not to look, but couldn't help it. The woman's blazer and skirt highlighted her hourglass figure to perfection. Her thick, brown hair cascaded in long waves down her back, swinging temptingly as she walked. Her slim legs ended in black heels that were somehow both sensible and alluring. He caught the hint of a seam running right up the center back of her calves from her pantyhose. It was enough to make his throat dry out. He quickly looked away, tugging at his tie to loosen it a little as they followed her at a distance.

"Sam."

Sam stopped, seeing Dean staring at him. "Huh?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"I said, we're using the usual spiel," Dean repeated.

"Right." Sam nodded, a little too enthusiastically. Dean squinted at him. "Let's go," Sam said, gesturing to where the woman was entering.

"Chief Denning? Meg Markson, FBI," the woman introduced herself, flashing her badge.

"Also," Dean chimed in, he and Sam flashing their badges quickly, "Agents Russell and Elliot."

The woman named Meg turned, her brow furrowed as she looked at the two men behind her. Sam couldn't help but notice her round, hazel eyes, glossed lips, and a button nose that made her look more like an innocent young woman instead of an agent. He drew in a sharp breath as she caught him gawking, looking away.

She eyed them, annoyance riddling her expression. "And what office are you and Bullwinkle from?" she asked, those same delicate features hardening as she looked at Dean.

"Kansas City, sweetheart," Dean replied with a charming smile that faded when it had no affect on her. "Relatives requested our presence during the investigation."

"Relatives?" she asked, brow arching.

"Family members of the missing," Sam said softly, gaining Meg's attention. She looked young, maybe even too young to be an agent; her face softened a little as Sam looked into her eyes.

"Fine," she said, "but I'll be calling your office to let them know Lincoln has the lead." She turned back to the chief, who was watching the whole thing in confusion. "Sir, I'd like to—"

"We'd," Dean corrected, coming to stand at Meg's side.

"I," she emphasized, "would like to ask you a few questions regarding Hailey Jodiak's disappearance."

"Please, sit," the chief said, gesturing to the two chairs in front of him. Sam nodded to Meg to take the one they were both near, and she sat hesitantly, catching Sam's eye before turning away. Dean sat in the other, crossing his leg.

"Were there any indications of a struggle?"

"No," the chief replied. "All we have is what we assume are her footprints at the last place she was seen. But they stopped halfway down the trail she was on. It fits with the other three women who have gone missing. Any tangible signs of their abductions just don't exist."

"So," Sam said, "it's as if they vanished?"

Meg arched her brow at him over her shoulder. "Vanished?" she scoffed. "People don't just vanish."

"These people might have," Dean replied.

Meg rolled her eyes, turning back to the chief. "Do you have photos from the scene?"

The chief handed her a case file, and she took it. Sam looked over her shoulder at the information, studying the picture of Hailey. "Says here the last people to see her were a few students," Meg noted. She looked up. "I'll be needing their contact information."

"We interviewed them, but you're holding a duplicate file. All the information is in there. Feel free to take it with you."

"Perfect, thank you." Meg stood, Dean following suit. She handed the chief a business card. "Let me know if you find anything new. I'll be in touch." She gave him a nod, tucking the file under her arm as she turned and left the office.

Dean smiled and gave his business card to the chief as well. "Us too," he added.

Sam followed after Meg, leaving Dean behind. "Agent Markson," he called, grabbing her attention briefly. "Perhaps we could share resources for this?"

"And what resources do you have?" she asked, looking straight ahead, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked.

"I figure if we can pool our efforts, we might get further."

Meg drew down the purse from her shoulder, digging through it for her keys. "Like I said, Agent Elliott, Lincoln has the lead on this."

She pushed open the door, not bothering to hold it for Sam. He caught it just before it smacked him in the face, sighing as he jogged up behind her. "I think it might be more beneficial if—"

Meg turned to him, not realizing how close Sam was, knocking into his broad frame. The file fell, along with her purse, both spilling their contents on to the blacktop of the parking lot. "Shit," she growled, stooping low to grab everything. Sam quickly bent down, helping her.

"Sorry," he murmured, his fingers brushing hers as he handed her some papers. He snatched her I.D. badge from where it laid as they finished, straightening to stand with her. Sam's brow arched as he looked at it just before handing it to her. He could tell the badge was a fake. "Where did you say you were from again?" he asked.

"Lincoln," she replied with annoyance, scoffing when he kept the badge out of her reach. "Give me that."

"Who are you?" he asked, Dean coming to stand by his side as he studied her.

"I don't need to answer that," Meg growled, swiping for the badge, Sam keeping it out of reach. "Give me that, or your nads will regret it," she warned.

"Not until you tell me who you are," Sam replied.

Meg shut her eyes, sighing. "Fine. I'm not a Fed. I'm a … freelance investigator."

Dean smirked. "A P.I.?"

Meg shrugged. "Sort of."

Sam shook his head. He knew the style of badge she was using was from a resources mainly serving one particular clientele. "You're a hunter," he corrected, catching her surprised reaction. "Look, this badge came from the same place ours did, which is a hunter resource. So, hunter, right?"

The woman they thought was Agent Meg Markson pressed her lips together, exhaling in defeat. "Yes. Rachel Lentz, hunter." She did a mock bow, snatching her I.D. back from Sam while he was distracted. "And I assume you're both hunters too?"

Dean nodded. "Dean Winchester," he said, tilting his head to Sam, "and Sam Winchester."

Rachel's brow shot up. "The Winchesters? What are the infamous Winchester boys doing in Nebraska?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Dean replied under his breath.

"We read about the account from James Gray," Sam said.

"This can't be angels," Rachel corrected.

"How do you know?"

"Because … Aren't angels supposed to be the good guys? Aside from Lucifer."

Dean laughed. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

"So," Sam said, taking a step closer to Rachel, "you're fairly new at this?"

She was clearly annoyed and embarrassed. "Look," she snapped under her breath, "Hailey is my cousin. I know her. She may make dumb kid decisions, but she wouldn't just take off. Something happened to her out there, and my theory is, it's a shapeshifter."

"A shapeshifter?" Dean asked.

"It would make sense, right? Takes on one form, moves to the next … It might be why she went with whoever it was that took her, because she trusted them."

Sam nodded. "Possibly." He studied Rachel. "So, want to pool our resources? Three hunters are better than one."

Rachel looked between the two brothers, her focus resting on Sam. He was over a foot taller than her, broad, and undeniably handsome. Both of the brothers were. There was something about Sam, though, that drew her. Maybe it was his gentle insistence, or his amazing locks of brown hair—whatever it was, it made her cheeks heat up. She ducked her eyes to the parking lot below her, nodding. "Fine," she said, straightening. Without waiting, she started for her car. "Follow me," she called over her shoulder. "We're going to the University."

Sam watched her walk away, clearing his throat as Dean looked at him with a shit-eating grin. "Shut up, Dean," he grumbled, turning for the Impala.

"I mean," Dean said with a chuckle, "can't blame you one bit. She's certainly real easy on the eyes." He climbed into the driver's side, Sam sitting next to him in the passenger's. "She's like, what—20, though?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "She's older than that."

"You sure? Don't want you getting your feathers all fluffed over jailbait."

"She's not jailbait, and I'm not …" Sam flustered, running his hand over his face. "I'm not interested."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not!"

"You keep telling yourself that, Sammy."

With a sigh, Sam leaned back against his seat as Dean pulled out of the lot and followed Rachel's car. He ran his tongue across the back of his teeth, shoving his thoughts aside. Even though she was a hunter, it wasn't like he'd be staying in Nebraska to make anything work—if he even got that far. He was better off ignoring it as best he could.

"You're not even this quiet when you sleep," Dean mused several minutes later.

"I was just thinking, if it was a shapeshifter, wouldn't there have to be another set of tracks?"

"Good point. So, we can likely rule out Rachel's theory."

Sam's brow creased as he leaned on the door, propping up his elbow. "If there's only one set of tracks, then whatever it was is able to teleport."

"Angel," Dean sighed.

"We're going to need to talk to James Gray after this," Sam concluded.

"Great. But there's no way in hell I'm pulling my pants down again."