A few weeks had passed, and not a peep on Dick Roman. The best thing for them to do, for the time being, was stay busy.

Melody was asleep across Dean's lap in the back seat, and he had only just woken up. "Good morning," Sam called to the back, causing Melody to stir slightly. Dean brought his finger to his mouth, signaling him to keep his voice down. "I can't believe you're in the backseat of your own car. That's just, wow." Sam was, however, more mindful of his voice. Melody would still wake up on occasion with bad dreams, so there was no need to assist in that aspect. They were all out late the night before, drinking and having a good time together. It was rare they caught a break like that, but it really was refreshing.

"You know what else is wow? Going on a wild goose chase." Dean huffed, leaning his head back on the seat.

"Wild goose chase," Sam scoffed. "Four guys die in two weeks, all with their hands and feet missing."

Dean shrugged, absently. "So some guy with a foot fetish is running amuck."

"Grown men were thrown so hard they went through walls," Sam gaped. "Did you read the article at all?"

Blair piped in from the passenger seat. "'Course not, he was napping."

They arrived at the morgue and all changed into their 'agent outfits'. Melody had on a white blouse that showed just the right amount of cleavage, a black blazer, and black slacks. Blair had a similar suit with an emerald green blouse. Sam and Dean wore their usual suit and ties. Dean would sometimes complain about the get-up, but Melody had a feeling he liked it a lot more than he let on.

"Four agents viewing the same body," the mortician peered, seeming a bit concerned. "Is there something going on?"

Before Dean could even think about responding, Melody was on it. "I'm Agent Waters and this is my partner Agent Mueller. Those two in the back are agents-in-training," she gestured to Sam and Dean behind them. "Won't even hear a peep." She winked at the young man, causing his legs to quiver a bit. It was a talent Melody was quite fond of.

"This is the latest guy, but he probably won't be the last," he sighed, pulling the cover back from the corpse. Surely enough, both the hands and the feet were missing, and there was some kind of symbol in the center of his chest.

"What's our guy here weigh?" Blair inquired.

"A buck-ninety," he responded. "Was thrown so hard against the wall, it buckled. Judging by the blood flow at the scene of the crime, he was still alive while his hands and feet were cut off. Gross. "The attacker wanted him to suffer."

They both nodded, taking mental notes. "All victims were male, right? All with this same artwork?" She gestured to a symbol across the deceased man's chest that almost looked familiar to her.

"Identical, actually."

They asked about DNA, to which all victims had some form of, from their attacker. As suspected, the samples were rejected. The man said that they didn't match anything human.

The four exchanged glances. So much for a wild goose chase.

Dean loosened up his tie as they exited the building. He hated to acknowledge that he was wrong in any matter, but in this case he was. "I'll admit," he started with a shrug. "This might be in the vicinity of the ballpark of our kind of thing."

Melody snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah, the whole 'DNA not matching anything human', usually seals the deal for me." She sighed, shaking her head at her phone while looking at the photo. "I've seen a symbols like this," she murmured, half to herself. "I just can't put my finger on where."

Sam glanced over, taking another look. "I've got no idea," he agreed. "Let's go grab a bite to eat. We can dig around some more when we get back to the motel."

Dean turned on his heels, nodding. "That's a brilliant idea," he said smugly. "How about you go do that, and I'll go undercover and mingle amongst the locals. See what kind of clues bubble to the surface."

"You're going to a bar," Blair folded her arms, amused.

"Wow," Dean said. "If you want to oversimplify it. Mel, why don't you come with? Give those to lovebirds some privacy."

Melody wasn't oblivious to the redness creeping up her friend's cheeks. It was quite cute, really. They'd all been together for about a month now, and it was no secret that the two enjoyed each other's company. Dean never missed an opportunity to prod jokes their way, but it was all in good fun.

All Dean had ever wanted was for Sam to have a piece of normalcy. Selfishly, he wished that Sam hadn't needed normalcy. That the hunting life was enough. It seemed like it never would be, though, and he knew he had to accept that at one point or another.

Melody waved back to her blonde friend, and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala next to Dean. "Can't believe you actually agreed to come with me," Dean chuckled.

"Somebody's got to babysit you," one corner of her lips curled up into a smirk. "Besides, I'm dying for a drink." Dean raised an eyebrow, shifting a curious gaze her way. "What?"

He purses his lips, shaking his head. "Funny you think you've got to babysit me," he chuckled, putting the car in drive. "Don't think I've forgotten those nights we'd sneak into Bobby's whiskey. You were a lightweight."

She shrugged. "I guess people change when you don't see someone for sixteen years." she fired back.

The shot came unexpectedly to Dean, causing his breath to hitch. He deserved it, yeah, but it didn't make the words sting any less. He was quiet for a moment. "Mel, I..." he started.

Melody shook her head. There was no reason to dig into the details. "It's fine, Dean," she murmured, keeping here eyes on the road. "Besides...I was only fifteen."

He wished there was something he could say to make it all better. To take away the hurt he caused her all those years ago. Melody was always an important person in his life. He knew there was nothing he'd do for Sammy's life, that he wouldn't do for hers. He knew, though, that if he had to do it all over again, he wouldn't change anything. If he'd stayed with Melody, there was no doubt in his mind he would have jumped ship to make sure she lived the lifestyle she deserved. Then what state would the world be in?

Melody grabbed a dress out of her bag that was stored in the back seat. "Turn around," she ordered. Huffing exaggeratedly, he obeyed. She slipped on a black knee length dress with ease, despite being crammed inside of a car. She didn't own very many dresses, but in a bar like this, it was necessary. She tore her hair down from the clip, shaking it out. "Okay," she sighed, signaling she was ready.

Dean turned back to face her. "I don't know why you're so modest at this point, we've been sharing a bed for weeks now," he smirked. His eyes drifted south from her eyes, to her chest that was revealed slightly by the tight fitted dress.

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Eyes up here, Casanova." She pointed to the two icy orbs staring at him.

Inside, music was playing and people were mingling. That was one of Melody's specialties. She strutted to the bar, Dean on her heels. "Shot of vodka, please," she smiled at the bartender. She'd already caught Dean's eyes wandering onto girls, ignoring the pang of jealousy that hit her like a bus. We're not kids, anymore. She reminded herself. "Make that a double."

Dean took a sip from an old beat up flask she recognized all too well. "That's my dad's." She murmured, drinking the shot the bartender placed in front of her.

"Yeah," he grinned slightly. "If you want it, it's yours." He held the flask out, to which she waved off.

"I think he'd want you to have it."

Behind her, a rather deep voice came. She turned around to see a suited man with jet black hair. "Two of whatever she's having," he told the bartender. He smiled down at Melody, with blindingly white teeth. "I don't think I've seen you here before."

"You have not," she granted, smiling. "I'm in visiting some family." Deception rolled off of her tongue with ease. She was a smooth talker, and ran a quick game, no doubt.

Dean watched their interaction closely. The way she would touch his arm when he said some stupid joke that wasn't even funny, while she threw her head back laughing was enough to drive any man to jealousy. He'd only just scaled the room to see if there was any guy in here that might even catch her eye, but he definitely overlooked this one. He was malcontent with the situation, without a doubt. He grabbed a beer from the bartender and stalked off, determined to distract himself in any way.

Bingo. He found a strawberry blonde sitting alone, sipping on a glass of wine. He recalled the same woman walking past him moments before, giving him unmistakable sex eyes. "Can I buy you a drink?" He grinned down at her.

Melody was mid conversation with Clark, the guy who bombarded earlier, when Dean approached with some woman a few paces ahead of him, he tossed his car keys to Melody. "Take care of Baby," he mouthed, turning back around.

Clark turned to eye Dean, before turning back to Melody. "He's my...brother," Melody answered the unspoken question. The rest of the night, she couldn't focus on anything but Dean's shenanigans, and she couldn't understand why. She couldn't ignore the sinking feeling, to the point where she wound up leaving shortly after he did. The tension she was feeling relaxed a bit when Clark asked for her number, to which she surprisingly obliged.

The brunette made it to the motel that Sam and Blair said they were in. Her feet were aching, and despite not even drinking a lot, there was a dull ringing in her head that she couldn't get rid of. It didn't have much to do with alcohol, because she'd experienced the same sensation for as long as she could remember.

She walked into the room to find Sam laying in Blair's lap as she braided his long hair. "I'm gonna puke," she groaned.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked, whilst Melody plopped onto the bed with them.

She rolled onto her back, laying next to Sam. "He left with some bimbo," she rolled her eyes. She massaged her temples vigorously, trying to silence the pitch.

Sam tilted his head to the right, looking at her. "You okay?"

Blair looked down at her friend with a frown. "That ringing again?"

Melody nodded, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. "I thought they finally went away," she sighed. "I haven't felt it in awhile." Her phone buzzed with a text, and only then did she force her eyes open.

"Dean calling for an SOS already?" Sam joked.

Melody shook her head, grinning. "Nope, it's Clark," she looked over to her friend, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ooh," she gaped. "Who's Clark?"

"Just a guy." Melody's shoulders shrugged nonchalantly.

"You two got nothing done there, did you?" Sam shook his head. Blair tugged his hair, attempting to get him to be still.

Melody ignored Sam, texting the guy from the bar back. "He was super sweet, really. Bought my drinks and everything." He told her he had a good time talking with her, to which she agreed. "I'm tired, and this headache is killing me. I think I'm going to call it a night," she announced, crawling under the empty bed's comforter.

Dean arrived back at the motel around five in the morning, sprawling out on the couch in the room. He didn't feel right climbing into bed next to Melody. At least not after the night he had. Had he slept with that woman out of spite? Probably, but it also was just true Dean fashion to hook up with a random woman at a bar. It still made him feel dirty, regardless.

Not long after he dozed off, Melody's alarm started blaring. She found Dean passed out on the couch on her way to get a shower, unsure of when he came back. Maybe they didn't sleep together. She knew better, though.

Dean was the last one ready, dragging for most of the morning. "You look like hell," Sam commented, as they got to the scene of the latest victim.

"I feel worse than I look," Dean retorted. "I do recommend The Cobalt Room, though. Awesome night. Although, I think I'm getting too old for this."

"If your head isn't in this, you need to leave," Melody snapped, turning on her heels to face him. "Trying to do a case here, not gossip about Dean's sexual escapades."

Dean put his hands up in surrender, raising an eyebrow at Sam. "Did you figure out that symbol?"

Sam shook his head, sighing. "We need an expert."

"Yeah, well, our experts dead," Melody countered, referring to her father. Everyone was heavily aware of the hostility in her mood this morning, even she was. Unfortunately for them, she didn't care much.

Each of them flashed their badges at the officer in front of the house, before walking past him and inside. Everything was the same. Man thrown across the room. Hands and feet cut off. Same symbol on the chest.

Melody spotted a younger looking man, standing outside of the room looking in. A police officer was blocking his entry. As the other three followed the man from morgue, Melody approached the cop at the door, dismissing him. "Can I help you with something?" She smiled.

The young man looked on edge. "I was just trying to see what happened," he murmured. "H-he was a friend of mine."

Melody looked back towards the body, before giving him a sympathetic look. "I'm very sorry," she said. "Jerry was killed last night. Do you live somewhere nearby?"

He looked a little stunned, but still nodded. "Two doors down."

"You wouldn't happens to know anybody that would want to harm Jerry?"

"Jerry was the nicest guy in the world," he assured her. "Well, his wife...wasn't really happy with him. A few nights ago he had this one-night fling. Ann found out and took off. But she'd never do anything like this."

Melody nodded, smiling again. "Of course. Thank you." She dismissed him before running to catch up with the other three.

"You sure moved on from that Clint guy quick," Dean commented absently.

Melody rolled her eyes at his attempt to piss her off. "It's Clark," she retorted. "Anyway, he lives a few doors down. Said the vic's wife caught him cheating."

"But we're not thinking she's responsible?" Blair inquired.

Dean shook his head. "Not unless she benches 350 and used the other guys as a warm up." He paused, a hand in his suit. "Shoot," he grumbled under his breath. "I left Bobby's flask over at Lydia's."

Melody turned completely to face him, eyes blazing. "You did what?" He really had the audacity to leave one of the things that meant so much to her dad at some random woman's house?

"Relax, I can call her and see if she's seen it," Dean shrugged, but that only pissed her off more.

"How cute, you're actually gonna call the next day." Melody rolled her eyes, leaving the three as she walked out of the building.

From the way it sounded in the phone, he'd just gotten blown off. Blair made a mental note to give Melody that satisfaction later. She had a feeling this was one of those shoe-on-the-other-foot moments.

Dean and Blair went to speak to the professor of anthropology, while Sam and Melody sifted through Bobby's old journals. They were looking for anything that even remotely resembled the symbol that was etched on the men's chest.

"You okay?" Sam asked after a good bit of time had passed and the room was still full of silence.

"Peachy." Melody responded, flipping through pages.

Sam closed the book he was looking through, picking up another one. "Somethings bothering you."

Melody slammed her book shut, placing a hand on her hip. "What do you want from me? You wanna hold hands and sing Kumbaya?" She snapped. She placed her thumb and index finger on the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I just...I'm fine."

Blair walked into the room alone, earning inquiring glances from the other two. "Dean went back to Lydia's," she told them both.

Melody nodded her head, knowing just what he was going to do. Winchester boy must have a soft spot for her, if he's going in for round two already. Was leaving Bobby's flask there just a cover up? Like the desperate move of a girl leaving her earrings at the guy's place, so she'd have an excuse to call the next day? The move didn't seem very Dean-esque, but anything was possible.

After an hour had passed, there was still no word from Dean. They were due to be at the crime lab soon, so they would likely have to go without him. "Dean, where are you? It's a flask, not the holy grail." Sam joked over the phone once he'd finally gotten his brother on the line.

The phone call didn't last long and ended rather abruptly. "We've got to get going," Melody concluded. "B, can you take a shift sifting through all of these books?" She asked her friend. "I feel like my brain is going to explode if I read anymore."

Blair nodded, waving to the pair as she cracked open a beer and an unread journal and got to work.

"What's the deal with Dean?" Melody asked Sam as they started towards the lab.

"Said he was 'engaging in people skills'," he laughed. "Hung up really quick after."

Imagine that. Melody thought to herself.

"You know, if you did have a thing for Dean again, I wouldn't be weird about it or anything," he said after a moment.

Melody threw her hands up, begging him to stop talking. "I'm sure you wouldn't, since you're all but making out with my best friend," she shuddered, causing Sam to erupt into laughter again.

"I do like Blair," he admitted. "She's funny, and smart. She's stubborn as hell, but with good reason, usually. I just...I haven't had anything like this before"

"I know what you mean."

They walked into the crime lab to find yet another victim, killed in the same masterful way. Melody couldn't help but notice the lead detective, Charlene, lurking about, shifting nervously every so often. "What triggered the FBI's interest in this case," she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. "I always thought you had bigger fish to fry."

"Uh no, actually. We—," Sam started, not quite sure where he was headed.

"Just the similarities between all of these cold cases," Melody jumped in. "Trainees, huh?" She gestured towards Sam. "If it's the same killer, then he's crossed state lines. That's where we come in."

Charlene scoffed, not buying into it. "Yeah, whatever," she said. "You need to wrap it up. Yours isn't the only case we're working on." She turned and walked off, leaving Melody barely grasping onto her professional demeanor.

Melody turned back to Eddie, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't bring the cold case files with me," she sighed. "Is there a chance you have a copy?"

"Yeah, of course," he smiled, walking towards a filing book.

Sam glanced down at the evidence that was laid in front of him, picking up one that had a familiar name. "The Cobalt Room."

"Yeah, it's pretty well known," Eddie said. "Especially for those looking for a hook up. Vic number two was there, and according to his security guard, he left with a hot girl. Two days later, he's in an obituary. All of the cold cases seem to follow that same pattern."

Melody smiled, closing the file he'd handed her. "Thanks, Eddie."

When they went to leave, Melody got another ringing headache. "Shit," she hissed past her clenched jaw.

"Mel?"

Melody couldn't even hear him say her name past the loud screech in her head. She was seeing shots of The Cobalt Room, and Dean leaving again with what she assumed to be the same woman, but her face was blurred. The humming slowed to a halt, but it left behind a throbbing feeling in her head. "What the hell," she groaned.

Sam was at her side, looking her over. "What's going on?"

Melody released a heavy breath and shook her head. "I don't know," her voice was strained and tired, and in that moment she felt as though she'd just ran a marathon. "Let's just get out of here." She couldn't fight off the sense of foreboding that was prevalent in her mind. Something wasn't right.

Sam called Dean once again, expecting a logical explanation when his brother answered the phone. "Dude, you never showed."

"Yeah, I'm outside of Lydia's," Sam started to scoff, but Dean continued. "Look, man, I've been eating at the buffet of strange all afternoon. Something ain't right."

Sam shook his head. "You're obsessed."

"Shut up, I'm serious," Dean defended. "What's happening on your end?"

Sam explained to Dean about the cold cases from two years ago in Chicago, then two years before that in Miami. Identical to the cases now, from victims, to missing hands and feet, but Dean quickly ended the call again.

"Nice talk." Sam said, putting his phone down.

They regrouped at the motel, clinging on the hopes of finding something in Bobby's books since they hadn't heard from the professor.

Dean had given them the long and drawn out story of his strange day. It started when he'd gotten there to get his flask, only to find out that she had a child. Her child. It wasn't completely out of the norm to not mention a kid the first time you meet a guy, but was really weird, was that a baby, no older than a year, was speaking fluent sentences. While stalking Lydia's house, as Melody called it, Dean spotted a much older girl coming out of the house.

"Maybe she had another kid that she didn't tell you about," Sam offered.

Dean wasn't hearing it. "Nope, just the one," he said. "When I was there with her the other night, she didn't have any. No playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks."

"Yeah, 'cause that's totally the kind of thing you would've been focused on," Melody snarked, earning a glare from Dean. "So you think you heard this baby talk?"

"Not baby talk, either."

"What do you know about child development?" Blair chuckled, hoping to lighten the tension in the room.

"I know enough to know that they don't say 'hey mom, who's that guy?'" He explained. "Then, cut to the kid they handed to those two women when you called last time. Much older, at least five, with the same name. Emma."

A local number, belonging to the anthropology professor, called Blair's phone. They all hoped he'd figured out the origin of the symbol, and luckily enough, he had.

"So, Amazon's, like Wonder Woman?" Dean asked.

"Like a tribe of warriors," the professor corrected him. "They actually existed. The symbol originated with the Amazons. Meant to pay homage to Harmonia. They had an exclusively female culture. The only need for a man was procreation. After they were impregnated, they killed the male. First, cutting off certain body parts. Lore says the children age at an incredible rate."

Everyone's eyes landed on Dean, realizing that if Dean had in fact slept with Lydia, that baby he'd seen was his and he was next on the list of targets.

This was the something not right.

"Looking through Bobby's files is like dumpster diving," Sam groaned, flitting through the boxes once more. All they needed to find was something on the Amazons, and surely it would say how to put a stop to them.

Melody, reading the cold cases and comparing them to the newer ones, turned on her heels and faced the Winchesters. Not peeling her eyes from the paperwork, she spoke. "You know, it makes sense why they all want to hook up with decent-looking, successful guys," she commented. "Understandably picky about their gene pool. So, what was Lydia doing with you?" Her eyes finally tore from the papers, looking up at Dean. "Hunter doesn't exactly scream successful."

"Oh, so you agree I'm good looking," he smirked, but it fell quickly as he received no reaction from her. "I may have told her I was a rich investment banker."

Melody shook her head, turning back towards the board. Of course he lied, but at what cost? Why was Dean so desperate to catch the attention of that specific woman? It wouldn't take an elaborate rouse for Dean to get a normal woman in bed, and that was just a fact.

Dean looked back down to the pages he had placed, only to see them in a different position. "Whoa," he stepped back a half step. "These papers just moved. I didn't touch 'em."

Melody gestured over to the open window. "Yeah. usually happens when a breeze rolls through," she scoffed." She knew what Dean was getting at, though. A ghost presence.

"Did you feel a breeze?" He shot back.

Melody sighed, picking up her EMF reader, to appease him. He thought it was Bobby, and as much as she wished it was, there wasn't any possible way. They salted and burned his bones. Proper hunter burial. "Redline," she commented. "Redline. Oh, and look here. A powerline, next to the open window. The readings are useless. Nobody wishes more than me that Bobby was here right now, but you know as well as I do that it's just not possible."

Sam agreed. As much as they wanted him there, it wasn't him. He picked up the sheet that had been exposed by the breeze. It was in Greek, one of the few languages that not a single one of them were familiar with. Melody knew enough to get my, but not to decipher an entire epigraph.

"The professor," Blair spoke from behind them. "He had a few pieces of Greek literature behind him. I'd be willing to bet he would be able to decode this for us."

"Let's go check it out," he nodded, turning towards Dean and Melody. "Hold onto your hands and feet. And Mel, try not to kill him yourself?"

Melody grinned a bit, shrugging her shoulders in contempt. "No promises."