Dean had done a horrible thing. He hadn't gone to the bar. He'd waited to see if his brother was going to go for a walk. Originally, the plan wasn't to follow Sam because of suspicion, it was more so that Dean could make sure Sam didn't collapse somewhere Dean couldn't find him. Before Sam got his soul back all those months ago, Sam would go jogging every morning, or night, ever since he hit puberty. But lately, Sam had been through so much shit that he hadn't felt up to it. Dean had given up wondering what Sam did in the year he was in Purgatory so that was only his estimation. Dean figured Sam wanted time alone to go for a walk, or a little run.

And he was right. Sam had left their room about fifteen minutes after Dean left. Following him at a snail's pace, hiding behind trees and buildings, Dean trailed his little brother. It wasn't long, though, until Dean realized Sam really did know where he was going, and an even shorter amount time still, that Dean realized Sam had a destination in mind.

Sammy was full of secrets, Dean hated it, but it was true. His little brother had always been quiet and Dean had learned that it was trait in Sam that he'd never be able to beat. So, when Sam stopped outside a sold house, he was surprised to find himself… surprised. Obviously this house meant something to Sammy because as he stood there, Dean witnessed his brother's entire body deflate. It was something Dean doubted anybody else in the world would be able to notice because Sam was so tall, but being his big brother, Dean saw it all—well most of it anyway—and something was unfortunately wrong here.

Then a small woman walked up to Sam and led him away. He heard the words "drinks" and "tea" in the woman's voice and then Dean saw Sam nod.

So his little brother preferred the company of old women than that of his own flesh and blood. Dean was hurt. He shouldn't have been, but he was. Dean turned around and walked straight to the bar leaving his little brother behind.

The first thing Sam noticed as he walked into the old lady's house was the curtain of beads that were strung up to separate the entrance hall from the living room. It wasn't a very big house, but as Sam emerged into the main room he was overcome by a sense of calm and frank coziness. It was a heavily upholstered room that sung the praises of naturopathy, Buddhism, Wicca, and Christianity all together and in harmony. There were soft looking couches and floor pillows and windows with rich coloured curtains. The lack of a TV or radio didn't surprise Sam at all; it just made him smile.

Myrtle lit a match and placed the flame onto a short stub of a stick. When she did this it didn't light, it simply smoked. In seconds, Sam's olfactory senses were engulfed by the scent of burning lavender.

"Hold this," Myrtle handed the incense stick to Sam. "I'll go make the tea. Make sure you get it in all the corners."

Lacking the choice of anything better to do, Sam walked the stub around the room. He lifted it high towards the ceiling and down low letting his instincts guide his hand. Sam highly doubted what he was doing had a formula. He wondered, as he worked, if the incense had anything to do with warding off unwanted spirits. He smiled at himself rememberingMissouri Mosleyand all the work she had done to help Sam and Dean rid themselves of the spirits in their old house all those years ago.

Sam worked his way into the last corner and absentmindedly smoked the corners. His mind recalled seeing Wiccan symbols when he had first walked in and his entire body went rigid. How could it not have crossed his mind before? She could be a witch. She could have slipped a hex bag on him at any point on their walk.

Sam quietly cursed himself and then wished he hadn't. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Dean's number. It rang and rang and rang finally the answering machine picked up "This is Dean's other, other phone—" and Sam cursed again hanging up.

If he left, there was no telling what Myrtle would do in response.

As if on cue, the little woman walked into the room with two cups of tea. "English Breakfast." She handed the cup to Sam, "I hope you like it strong."

Sam nodded and stood holding the incense like a deer caught in headlights. Myrtle had caught Sam so far off guard that he was stuck in a transient state as he tried to figure out his next move.

As if reading Sam's mind, Myrtle took the still smoking stub from his fingers and smiled. "Have a seat."

Myrtle had gestured to a floor pillow and so Sam's lanky and large frame sunk to the ground holding the tea as steadily as he could.

"You don't need to be afraid of me, young hunter."

That made Sam start, "I— uh—I'm not—"

The little old woman waved her hand without a care in the world, smoke swirling around her head, "You don't need to worry about me. My husband was a hunter. You don't need to be afraid of me."

Again Sam found himself at a loss for words.

Myrtle didn't seem bothered by Sam's missing vocabulary.

"My husband died six years ago while he was hunting a shifter. Carl was very good at what he did but the son of a bitch got the better of him that day."

The sudden cursing from the old woman's mouth was about as blatant as lights that direct an airplane for landing.

"Excuse my French." Myrtle took a sip of her tea and Sam eyed his cup warily. "Anyway I'm quite learned in his field of work. He told me certain things over the years. That's why I felt impelled to know you, Sam Winchester."

"How did you know I was a hunter?" Sam asked still unsure of how safe he was in this woman's house. Still, his surroundings were impossibly soothing and most of his judgment called out for him to relax but the ever-vigilant hunter side of him demanded wariness.

"The way you stand."

Sam shook his head and daringly took a sip of his tea. It was, quite possibly, the best cup he'd ever had in his entire life. "So, my posture's my tell?"

Myrtle smiled, "You can tell a lot about a person if you study their body language."

Sam suddenly became very nervous and tried to sit up straight without doing it too obviously knowing all the while Myrtle could probably tell what he was trying to do.

She tittered and the laugh lines by the sides of her eyes wrinkled deeply. She couldn't have been younger than seventy-five and yet she held the vitality of a fifty-five year old.

Sam smiled despite himself and took another sip of the glorious tea.

"You're here because the angels aren't you?"

He knew he shouldn't have been, but Sam was shocked. "You know?"

"Ha! Of course I know, young man. I may be old but I am not senile."

"I never meant—"

She held up her hand and smiled again, "No need to worry, my boy. I only mean to help you in your search."

"Search for what? Sorry?"

"The angles, Sam. The angels. And to get them back into heaven."

Sam frowned. He wanted to tell her he hadn't the slightest clue as to why they had fallen in the first place and therefore had no way of knowing how to get them back up into Heaven. He thought about Castiel and wondered if he had fallen too and where on Earth Cass could possibly be. "It's not going to be that easy."

"When is anything a hunter ever does easy?"

Sam's mouth formed a lop-sided grin as he took the woman in. She's still alive! She was married to a hunter and survived decades with him and then many years without him. Sam looked at Myrtle and decided she was a miracle and downed the rest of his tea.

"Will you accept my assistance, Sam?"

The young Winchester nodded with new found hope. Not just for the angels but for Sam's own future. Maybe being back in Kermit wasn't such a bad thing. One day, when all of this was over Sam would find someone to fall in love with and he wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

Dean was leaning heartily over the shoulder of a pretty brunette woman who wouldn't give him the time of day. She told him her name was Amy, and in return, Dean told her that his name was Charlie. She smiled at him and laughed at his jokes like she meant it but there was something about the way Amy held herself that told Dean he wouldn't be going to bed with her that night.

Despite the fact, Dean found himself interested in her. He wouldn't mind getting to know her more before he did ask her to bed. So, he offered to buy her a drink and asked her about herself.

At first, the information came out in drips, he learned she was recently divorced, and was thinking of leaving Kermit in the near future. But Amy didn't offer much more than that. So, Dean made a move telling her that he and his brother were in town to find long lost family.

"My brother's a tech wiz and one day he said to me, 'We've got family in Kermit, Charlie. He said he'd found them on the Internet."

After taking a sip of her drink she asked him, "What's your bother's name?"

"Sam. He's my little brother but he's a monster of a size. You got any brothers or sisters, Amy?"

Dean had been eyeing her while he spoke and it seemed that something had made the girl slightly distant.

"Is everything okay?"

Amy shook herself. "Yeah, I think I should be going."

"Hey, did I say something wrong? Don't go, Amy."

She hopped off her bar stool and hung her purse over her shoulder thanking Dean for the drink. "I'm sorry about this but I've got to work tomorrow."

Dean stood and nearly offered her his number but stopped himself, "I hope to see you again soon, Amy."

Before she left, she flashed a brilliant smile at Dean that promised she felt the same and then she was gone.

Next: "Watching over me?"

"Throbbing fiery pain"

"Sammy?"

"She knows about the angels."