Three days till Election Day and Dean was underneath another voting machine, examining and removing any "extra" hardware that might have been installed. He slid out from under the machine and checked off another one free of interference--at least of mechanical interference.
Sam was at one end of a line of fold-out tables, running the stats electronically for each machine. A cute, short lady with grey curls and a blue twinkle behind her bifocals carried over a tray with two mugs and a plate of cookies and cupcakes. She smiled at Dean and invited him over with a tilt of her head.
"Coffee and goodies for our volunteers." She set down the tray and smiled at both of them. "We're so grateful for what you're doing," she said. "Where are you headed next?"
Sam rattled off the list of polling places they hoped to check before the big day, and she patted him on the shoulder, and beamed at Dean before she walked away to help hang bunting, or count stacks of blank ballots, chores to be done before the Big Day.
Of course, Dean and Sam would be on the road most of Tuesday, headed back to the bunker. They wouldn't be voting--couldn't, as their fake identities wouldn't stand up to a voter registration check. So they were doing what they could, now, when they could. And they could only hope it helped.