"For God's sake, you got in the back because the spring at the last motel was stabbing you in the back and you needed rest, but you haven't shut up long enough to sleep," Melody snapped at Sam, leaning her head against the window. She could have slept while in the front, but it wouldn't prove her to be a very good co-pilot. They had been on the road for 3 weeks, trying to buff out some time for Frank—some guy Bobby had told the boys to find—to figure out what the numbers meant that Bobby left. She'd anticipated that it would be a quiet ride, but Sam and Blair had hit it off quite well from the jump, and stayed up some late nights whispering about who knew what. Melody knew that was more likely the reason for his lack of sleep, as opposed to a stray spring in the mattress.

The car immediately got quiet. Dean looked over to Melody with a raised eyebrow. He looked tired, too. His eyelids were drooping slightly lower than they had been earlier, and Melody would occasionally see him widen them to fight off sleep. "We've gotta stop soon," Dean sighed. For everybody's safety. He silently thought. Not so much about himself, but instead for the fear that Melody might literally bite all of their heads off.

Typical shoddy motel was the go-to for the gang. "Only one room is available for the night," the woman standing at the front desk mumbled. She smelled like old cigarettes and motor oil. Melody and Dean looked around, confused as to what the appeal was for them to be booked.

"Why would-," Melody started, only to be interrupted by her best friend.

"One room is great!" Blair grinned at the woman, silently apologizing for Melody's attitude as she slipped the keys off of the desk. She handed one copy to Sam, and tucked the other into her back pocket.

Melody gaped. "Why the hell are you in charge of our key," she asked Blair.

Blair continued walking, wearing a rather amused smile. "When have you ever kept up with your room key?"

Melody had to think hard, trying to figure out if there was actually a time that she didn't lose hers. She couldn't recall a single time. In fact, on nights that she would come back from bars, or even strains of odd hookups, she'd have to wake her friend up to get into the room. "Fair enough."

They settled in, getting their things ready to shower. "Let's draw numbers out of hats," Dean suggested, offering a suggestion to end their groans about who deserved to go first.

"What happened to ladies first?" Melody whined. Sam was the first to pick a piece of paper from one of Melody's old ball caps without complaint.

"One!" He laughed with a snotty grin, grabbing his clothes from the foot of one of the beds.

Dean scoured after him. "Happy now? Lady went first."

"Better watch out, you know Mel can stomp your ass." Sam grinned, disappearing into the bathroom.

Melody picked next. "Three," she grumbled, crumpling the paper.

Then Blair. "Two!"

"What the f-ugh!" Dean was fourth. "I hate this idea." Even though it was his own.

By the time Sam was finished showering, Dean had pictures of Dick Roman, with newspaper cutouts and things underlined, pinned to the wall. It was clear that, when not staring into nothingness during the weeks that had passed, this was what he had obsessed over.

Sam was coaxing water out of his ear as he walked towards Dean and Melody. He was in a pair of flannel pants and a plain white t-shirt. Simple, yet so Sam.

None of the three spoke, while reviewing the information before them. In fact, when Sam had spoken, it wasn't about Dick at all. "Should we call Bobby's people?" He asked, quietly. "I mean, to let them know..."

Melody froze. She'd done well so far to not cry, but it was threatening to overcome her at the thought of calling Bobby's friends to tell them he'd passed. There was a long list, and the idea alone overwhelmed her. Dean could see it. "I'm not calling anybody," Dean shook his head. "If you wanna call those people up, be my guest. I ain't."

"I don't want to call anybody."

Melody sighed, collecting herself. "I will. Eventually."

"Mel, you don't have to do that," Dean murmured, trying his best to read her face.

She nodded once. "I do. I should."

Then again, she froze. A icy chill ran up her spine, as Bobby's ringtone filled the room. Instantaneously, Sam and Dean both look at her. She rapidly shook her head in response. She couldn't do it. That went so far against the code of eventually.

Sighing, Sam picked up the phone. "Hello? Uh, no, he's...it's not, but I'm a friend of his. He's not here, but if you need—."

Dean raised a curious eyebrow as Sam closed the phone, apparently having been hung up on. "Who was it?" He picked up his beer off of the nightstand and sipped on it.

The taller Winchester looked just as confused. "Just some kid."

"Some kid for Bobby?" Melody peered, stepping closer to Sam.

"I think she was a hunter's kid," Sam mused. "She sounded scared. I have a caller ID, maybe we can go check on her."

Dean looked up at Sam, clenching his jaw tight. Not sure as to why he would he even suggest that, when they had bigger fish to fry. "What about Frank? What about figuring out what the hell this number was that Bobby gave us? You really think this kid takes priority?"

"The two of you can go find Frank, but if he's just spinning his wheels, you bail out and come meet us," Sam suggested.

Dean looked hesitantly at Melody. "You cool with that?" Mostly referring to being stuck alone with Dean for who knew how long.

Melody shrugged, looking at her nails. "Up to Blair." They hadn't separated since they'd started hunting, but if Blair was up for it, so was she.

"Up to me about what?" She was wearing a lilac colored short and top set that caused her tanned skin to pop. Sam maintained his composure despite finding her quite attractive, but Melody had to shove her elbow into Dean's ribs for staring just a moment too long. When the Sam explained the plan, Blair didn't hesitate. "That's fine with me."

Melody was thankful for her turn in the shower. This place had the best hot water of all the motels she'd stayed at—or maybe her muscles were so cramped up that it just seemed that way. When she got out, she dressed in a white t-shirt and black boy-shorts. She was packed for motels with Blair, not a guy who saw her as his big sister and a horny Dean.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Melody rolled her eyes at Dean who hesitated not to trail his eyes down her body when she walked out of the bathroom.

Dean smirked at her words. "Is that an offer?" He lifted his phone and snapped a picture of her, before dashing away to the bathroom away from a lunging Melody. Before she reached the door, she heard an "oh shit!" as Dean slipped on the slick tile. As soon as Melody heard the thud of him hitting the floor, she had to cover her face with a pillow to keep from absolutely cracking up and waking their comrades.

Once over her fit of laughter, she looked around for a phone book, knowing very well these stomach pangs were going to keep her awake until she satisfied them. Pizza. She could never go wrong with a big pizza.

She sat on the couch, despite the questionable stains and the oddly positioned holes throughout, eating a meat lover's pizza and flipping through channels on the tv.

"You're still up," Dean discovered, as he trod out of the bathroom after a forty minute shower.

Melody looked up, before quickly averting her gaze as soon as she saw his exposed torso. "Don't you own clothes?" She felt heat creep up her cheeks, and Dean was far from oblivious.

"'sa matter? You're looking a little flushed. I've got sweatpants on." He smirked. Damn that smirk. "I don't sleep in shirts. It's already going to feel like the fiery depths of hell, in bed...with...Sam."

Blair huffed as she heard Dean's continued complaints that he'd started while Melody was in the shower. Melody and Dean's eyes followed Blair as she left the bed that was meant to be hers and Melody's and stole a piece of pizza. "God, I'd hate to hear you complain forever," the blonde ate at her pizza as she crawled into Sam's bed.

Melody pursed her lips humorously at Dean's shocked expression. Blair wasn't a light sleeper. Food was typically the culprit of waking her up, but this time it happened to be to no fault other than Dean's.

"I can sleep on the couch," he offered, realizing that sleeping next to him not not seem as appealing to her. For the first time that Melody had ever seen, he seemed unsure of himself.

"Don't be stupid," she rolled her eyes, handing him a slice of pizza. "This couch is barely big enough for the two of us to sit on. We used to share a bed at my dad's, anyway."

Dean scoffed, biting into the pizza. "Yeah, when we were eight and ten. A lot has changed."

"Like you becoming a nymphomaniac?"

"It's not a crime to enjoy a woman's company," he said around his food.

Melody ate another piece before wandering over to the bed she'd be sharing with Dean. "Just because we're sharing a bed, doesn't mean it's an open invitation to handsyville."

"You just let me know when it is, Sweetheart." He smirked. She couldn't see it, but she could hear it in his voice as he snaked into the bed beside her.

Melody was forcefully dragged from sleep the next morning by a finger prodding into her side. Reflexively, she punched the source in the gut, reacting with a knee jerk reaction. She looked up to see Dean hunched over, struggling in an attempt to catch his breath. "Dean, Dean Dean," she tsked, sitting up. "You'd think you of all people would know better than to wake me up. I still have five minutes on my alarm."

"Next time I'll just leave you here alone."

"No you won't."

She was right. Dean wasn't sure if she quite realized just how right she was.

Sam and Blair were long gone by the time Dean and Melody arrived at the house that seemed to be in the middle of a scene from Children of the Corn. "This is weird as hell." She kept her voice low as she walked next to Dean. The inside was even worse.

There were screens with surveillance all over the place, of places that neither of them could pinpoint. "This can't be good," Dean thought out loud. Suddenly, a gun cocked behind them. Both hunters spun around on their heels and whipped their guns out. "Frank..." it had to be. "You're amongst friends, here," Frank scoffed at the words. "Well, acquaintances."

"That's exactly what a Leviathan would say." Frank shook his head. "They're anywhere. Anyone."

Melody put her hand up, defensively. "Look, um," she stammered, before a lightbulb clicked on in her mind. "Leviathan's bleed black goo, right?" She'd read it in her dad's journals just yesterday. "You wanna see what I bleed?" Frank pointed his gun at her foot, causing her to reflexively step back. "Take the guns out of it, Frank." She took her knife from her pocket, flicking it open.

"Mel," Dean reached for the blade she was drawing near her skin, but Melody pulled away, glaring at him. Sure, she'd been pretty bad off lately, but that wasn't what this was about. She took the blade and placed it on her arm. Dean huffed, following in suit with his own knife.

"Red blood Americans," Melody sighed, pulling her sleeve down and retreating her knife into her back pocket.

They followed Frank into his motor home, where he had equipment set up, along with articles pinned up right behind his computer.

Frank tried making small talk, about having known Bobby, but that only ignited a rage inside of Dean. "I don't want to hear any of the 'good times with Bobby' from someone who barely knew him. No. I paid you fifteen grand for this."

Damn. Melody thought to herself. Whatever was in those numbers, Dean really wanted to know.

"Just trying to make friendly conversation," Frank defended himself.

"We really appreciate it," Melody chimed in. Good cop, bad cop, apparently. It was unusual, though—usually Blair was the good cop and she was the bad cop, but she knew Frank might just not survive if they both let their personalities shine.

"This is not a friendship, Frank," he retorted, stepping closer, nostrils flaring. "I am paying you."

Still trying to extinguish the fire he'd made, Frank spoke again. Melody really wished he hadn't. "You know what you need? A little LSD, a little Shatsu..."

"I'm out of here."

Dean brushed past Frank, only to be stopped by his next words. "You wanna know what those numbers are?" Melody stepped closer, ready to untangle the mystery. "Bupkes. They're not lottery numbers, or licenses..." Melody feared Dean was about to punch him right in his face, so instinctively, she grabbed his arm. "That's where the chance of probability comes in." He sat down at his computer, Dean and Melody following. "I started to wonder. Hey, maybe the dying drunk left out a number. I set out a program to run probabilities of an additional number. Six numbers, my little lambs, is coordinates to a field in Wisconsin."

Melody was starting to feel agitated herself. "Maybe this is the part where we clock out and go meet Sam and Blair," Melody whispered, half to herself, and half to Dean." She shook her head. "No," she told Frank. "Why in God's name would Bobby leave coordinates to grassy plain in the middle of Cheese Country."

Frank, seeming to be feeding off of the negative energy, corrected her. "He gave you coordinates to a parcel recently purchased by William Inc. a subsidiary of? You guessed it. Richard Roman Enterprises."

Melody ran a hand through her hair, flustered at the influx of new information. "So what now?"

Slowly rising to his feet, the older man ran his hand across his salt and peppered stubble. "Stay away," he stated simply. If Dean wanted to punch him in the face in that moment, she wouldn't stop him. "Or," he spoke again, turing to face the two hunters. "If we're stupid, we go and set up surveillance."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which option they were going with.

Dean called Sam, filling him in on what their plan was, while Melody hung around and changed into the disguise Frank had for them. "You'll have to forgive Dean," she informed him with a coy smile once she pulled the lineman outfit on. "Though, you should really work on getting to your points a lot faster. Dean was about to obliterate you."

Frank chuckled, knowingly. "I love the element of surprise," he shrugged. He stuck his head out of the RV, yelling for Dean. "Got the equipment arranged, come and get your costume out so we can hit the road."

The drive to Wisconsin was absolutely boring. Fields, trees, and more fields. "Here we are," Frank announced.

Melody climbed out of the front seat, looking around. "What the hell's so special about this place?"

"Gotta love a mystery," Frank grinned. "Dean, get up in that cherry picker and act like you're fixing things."

Dean huffed, but did as he was told. It was quite funny, actually, watching Dean try to maneuver the lift. Far from grace. "Looking good up there," Melody called, watching him. He glowered down at her.

He finally reached the top of the pole when Frank spoke again. "Shit," he muttered. "Come on down Tarzan."

That was a good one. She'd have to store that for later. "What?" Dean called back down. He'd just gotten positioned to at least look like he was doing something.

Frank motioned him down again. When he was low enough, Frank explained. "We've got to move. They got this place wired up the wazoo."

"Gonna be kind of difficult to set up surveillance when there's surveillance everywhere." Melody chimed in. They decided the best route would be to hack into theirs and watch, taking shifts.

Back in the trailer, Melody and Dean were sitting on a couch across the way from where Frank had positioned himself at the computer. "You two look horrific," he examined, shaking his heads. "We can take shifts watching the cameras. You're no good when you can't even keep your eyes open." Before the sentence even got out of Frank's mouth, Dean was already snoozing.

She wasn't surprised that he was so tired. He was up every night with Melody the first week, trying to calm her down after her nightmares. He slept in the recliner in Bobby's room, whereas she slept in the bed. He told Sam and Blair it was so he could feel closer to Bobby, but it also had to do with the fact that he was worried about Melody. She was vulnerable. Completely open to possession. He constantly woke, checking the salt lines, and occasionally splashing a bit of holy water on her leg. It seemed like every time he'd go to sleep, he was right back up. Melody had no idea he'd actually gotten less sleep than she had. Not to mention, once they left Bobby's house, he was so infatuated with cracking this case, he'd rarely got more than two hours of sleep a night.

Sam and Blair had both tried to get in touch with the other two to tell them about the Vetala they'd discovered after finding the little girl, but neither answered. It wasn't like Melody to pick up her phone, and that made Blair's stomach sink. She knew Melody could take care of herself, though, and Dean was there. She had to be safe. "So," Blair started, trying to keep her mind from wandering. "A Vetala. I was beginning to think those were old hunters' tales. They feed slow, so we might have a chance at getting this guy back to his daughter, right?"

Sam nodded, closing his dad's old journal. "I sure as hell hope so."

They drove to a little diner on the edge of town. It was the last place the hunter had been seen. They flashed their badges at a blonde waitress, who seemed to be scaling Sam. "Your manager said you might be able to help us," Sam started.

She returned a small smile, seeming...almost nervous. "What can I do for you?"

Blair slipped a picture out, trying to read her expression. "Have you ever seen this man?" There was nothing to see on her face, as she shrugged lightly.

"I get a lot of customers," she told them. "I might have served him the other day." She paused, looking around. "He might have gone to talk to that girl out there." Both hunters turned to see a minimally dressed woman, standing outside on her phone.

Sam smiled his thanks, and started off. "I actually have a few more questions for her, I'll meet you out there," she nodded, watching as he left. "Is it okay, if I ask you a few things? Just to cover all of our bases."

The waitress was hesitant, but she wouldn't turn her down. "Sure," she smiled. "I was just about to take my break out back."

Blair nodded her head, following her out of a side door. She was hit upside the head by something, and the last thing she remembered was a sting in her neck.

Melody had woken up a few hours after having finally fallen asleep. Her head had slumped over slightly onto Dean's shoulder. Careful not to wake him, she got up from her seat next to him and took Frank's place, allowing him to rest.

Dean slept for a solid 36-hours, but he needed rest. More than Melody did. When he finally did wake up, he seemed well rested to say the least. "How long was I out," he grunted. His voice was still deep from sleep.

A quaint smile appeared on Melody's lips. Frank was up with her as well, staring at the screen. "'bout 36 hours," she shrugged.

Dean blinked rapidly, confused. "Why the hell didn't you wake me?"

"Not your butler," Frank chirped. "Come see this."

There was a couple making out on one of the screens. "Frank, you need to get out more."

"Not that," he retorted. He switched cameras, channeling in on a woman in an overcoat, writing things down on the board. "Amanda Miller. Works for Richard Roman. They're getting ready to build something, by the looks of it."

"...so what, fake it?" Dean and Frank had gotten into a heated argument about Dean's lack of patience and obsession over killing Dick after what he did to Bobby. Decide to be fine til the end of the week. Make yourself smile because you're alive and it's your job. Then do it again next week. Those words would stay with her. Forever, probably.

"I call it being professional."

Before Dean could respond, a buzz came from his pocket. He had a voicemail from Sam, talking about the Vetala. That's not right. He thought to himself. Sam thought they'd found a single Vetala, but Dean recalled that they only operate in pairs, from a case he'd worked with their father. He started to call his brother's number back, but a strange number called before he could. "Sam?" Melody got to her feet at his name. Did something happen to Blair?

"No. Sam told me to call this number if I didn't hear anything back from him in a few days." It was the little girl.

Dean's face fell, causing Melody's own to turn a sickly pale.