Then:

Two days ago:

The County of Persuch's Registrars office had operated for 30 years with only two people; the Registrar and one clerk. Melanie Lynch had the dubious honor of being the third. The county was growing. No longer was being close to 100 miles from the largest city a deterrent for those who wanted it all; a home in the country and a job in the city. The County Seat was the City of Maple River and it was experiencing a boom in new home building that had never been seen before. So now the once tiny county needed a second clerk in its Registrar's office. Other county offices were also adding jobs to keep up with the demands of its growth. Several towns were even debating adding police departments rather than relying on the small Sherriff's office.

Melanie stood from her chair where she was entering the latest home's lengthy legal description in the county's database. She stretched her pear shaped frame, long arms reaching above her dark-haired head toward the ceiling. Apparently even as soon as a few years ago Mrs. Russo had been hand entering land records into a thick registrar's roll book. It was tedious enough doing this data entry on a computer, Melanie was thankful she didn't have to do it by hand in the dusty old book. Melanie walked from her desk to the window that looked out onto the main street of town. It was a quiet Friday afternoon. Right now she was the only one in the office, Mrs. Russo had Friday's off and the Registrar, Joe Hudson, was running errands. The town was a throw back to nostalgia and therefore popular among current trends. Brick buildings stood sentry on either side of the oak tree-lined street. There were no chain stores in the main part of town. The pharmacy was the oldest business with a lunch counter that still had a daily blue plate special for $2.99.

Melanie was just about to turn from the window and get back to work when a car pulled to the curb across the street in front of the pharmacy. It was the same car from the day before; an old Chevy that had Joe practically offering the occupants anything they wanted if only so that he could gaze in awe at the thing. The occupants claimed they were federal agents who needed to check the ownership records of older homes in the area. Melanie's bullshit-o-meter had shot straight into the red zone the second she saw them. She hadn't met anyone who tried so hard to convince others they were who they said they were. Aside from that property information was public record, one didn't have to have any kind power granted by the badge of law enforcement to see them.

As the two crossed the street Melanie had a panicked feeling fill her and her mind was commanding her to lock the door, to not let them in. Something wasn't right about those two. "Federal Agents my ass, and I'm going to marry George Clooney," she muttered walking to the counter, knowing they were headed this way. Like the day before both were wearing blue jeans and casual jackets. The day before they had flashed badges but it was to Mrs. Russo who's eye sight was so bad after 25 years of hand data entry they could have been from a Cracker Jack box and she wouldn't have known. All Joe had cared about was the car.

The old sleigh bells rang as the door opened and the pair came in. The tallest one gave her a smile that was almost genuine; it was the other one that rubbed her the wrong way. He was cocky and sure of himself in a way that was irritating. Melanie had a sudden urge to stick her tongue out at him but didn't want to encourage him with the childish gesture.

"We still have a couple of rolls to check," the tallest one said to her. Melanie hesitated before lifting the countertop section to let them in. Her mind was doing that "danger danger" thing again. She walked them back to the conference room and told them to giver her a minute while she grabbed the roll they'd left off with the day before.

"So, Melanie," cocky guy spoke to her as she brought them the first roll. "Do you go by anything else maybe like Mel?" As a matter of fact she did. Her family and friends called her Mellie.

"I go by Melanie," she replied turning to walk back to her desk.

"Ouch," Sam said as Melanie disappeared back toward the front of the office. "I don't think she likes you much."

"Yeah well there's no accounting for taste," Dean replied, flipping open the large, dusty old book.

"Apparently there is," Sam teased his brother.

"Har," Dean replied dryly. "Let's just get to looking so we can move on."

"This would be a lot easier and go a lot faster if these people didn't just come out of the stone ages," Dean said after an hour of pouring through tiny handwriting. Their list of homes was painfully short. They weren't able to find any sort of pattern to explain what was happening in the area. Sam stood up to stretch. He watched from the conference room window as Melanie walked to the photocopier and then answered the phone that was next to it. Dean was talking but Sam wasn't hearing him as he watched her. Something was wrong. Her hand gripped the receiver so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Her body tensed. Her back was to the room they were in so Sam couldn't see her face.

"Sammy, what?" Dean asked realizing that his brother wasn't paying attention to him and was focused intently out the window. Sam didn't answer but instead went over to the phone on the side table. It was an old fashioned office phone and he pushed down the white line button that was lit. Dean stood up and stood next to him to listen in.

"Mellie you need to get out of there right now," a voice was saying. "Can you?"

"I can't just, I can't leave the office with them in it," Melanie replied.

"Melanie, just hang up the phone…" Dean didn't wait to hear what the man who he recognized as Joe was saying. They'd been made and if they got arrested again the feds would lock them up and throw away the key. He hurried from the room. Sam knew his brother was a reactionary. Take charge now and pick up any pieces later.

"Dean…" Sam called after his brother before hanging up the phone.