For a while it almost seemed like things were normal. They were working a case in Detroit, what should have been a simple salt and burn with an angry spirit that seemed impossible to pin down. Days turned into weeks and soon they were settling in, making friends, forgetting – if not about the job – about the constant wandering. They liked the town – good beer, muscle cars everywhere, lots of flannel, easy access to bacon at all hours, great classic rock scene – it was heaven. There weren't a lot of cheap hotels – at least not in areas where getting shot wasn't a real and pressing concern. So they'd used something Sam found online – Airbnb – and were renting something their host claimed was a bedroom but looked more like an oversized closet – in the arts district.

Not that Dean was complaining. Ana was pretty; she was bright; she happily blasted obscure blues at midnight over bottles of whiskey Dean never would have paid for himself. She was a designer at GM – and held strictly to their confidentiality agreement for the first three beers – then would occasionally pull out a sketch or two for them.

Things were great. Until they finished their salt and burn, until Dean realized they should probably leave for the next hunt. That is – that'd been the plan – until Sam found a book of early Church exorcisms in the original Latin – buried under a pile of vintage car magazines – well loved – open to a page of summoning rituals. That is – until Dean saw Ana wearing an inverted cross. That is – until they both panicked and started calling Ellen and Bobby and any other hunter they knew to find out if Ana could have summoned the angry spirit.

Which is how they got here, with Ana sitting, head in her hands, in an alley they should probably vacate quickly – since it was closing in on 2 am and they were – after all – in Detroit. Which is how they got here, with Ana drenched in holy water, and holding a pile of salt in her hands, confused, scared, with Sam's knife wedged just inside her right hip bone. Dean was back at home. Sam and Ana had been out getting dinner – Sam had started reciting an exorcism to see how she'd respond…he was spooked…he admitted it…and she'd winced then started laughing…and he'd panicked…and…well…stabbed her. It hadn't been a great plan. He'd followed up the stabbing with holy water and salt – which in all honesty should have preceded it – saw how she wasn't reacting – and realized what a horrible mistake he'd just made.

"Can you guys explain this one more time?" Ana asked – she was remarkably calm – considering.

"We found that book of Latin summoning rituals," Sam began.

"Yeah – that's a compilation of early Christian prayers…that a friend of mine…a priest actually…is helping me translate…" Ana repeated – for what must have been the tenth time that night.

"And you wear an inverted cross," Sam added.

"It's a St Peter's cross…I thought you two knew your lore?"

"And then you kinda shuddered when I recited that exorcism just then and…I panicked."

"You use classical instead of ecclesiastical pronunciation…I was laughing at you…sorry," Ana managed between gasps. She gripped the hilt of Sam's knife in one hand.

"We need to get you home."

"Yeah. That'd be a good choice."

Dean was more than a little upset when Sam laid Ana's bloody, unconscious body on the couch, knife sticking out of her side.

"What happened exactly?"

"I panicked. And I may or may not have stabbed her. Before testing holy water and salt…she's clean by the way. Just good friends with a kid in Catholic seminary and she's been studying the early Christian texts with him. And…we just got the entire hunting community on her trail."

"Yeah."

"Which means we need out of here…now."

"Get that knife out of her first."

"Who's coming after me?" Ana mumbled – the brothers looked up to see her standing in the kitchen door, holding the bloody knife in her side, somehow still upright, though it looked like that wouldn't last for long.

"Everybody," Dean replied, "now let's get that bleeding stopped and get out of here."

"This is gonna knock you out," Dean said gently, "Okay? I'm gonna take the knife out while you're under, we're gonna staunch the bleeding as fast as we can and then we're heading north."

Ana nodded, "And by we you mean?"

"For now just you and me," Dean replied, filling a syringe with morphine and wiping her arm with an alcohol swab, "Sam's gonna join us tomorrow, lay a false trail tonight."

"Got it," Ana said, swallowing hard.

"How you feeling?"

"Hurts a lot, pretty nauseous, starting to get lightheaded…better than I thought I would."

"Small favors," Dean replied, "On three…one…two…"

And he gave her the morphine and felt her body go limp in his arms.