Dean had gone over the edge. He'd yelled at Bobby until the man had finally just left, knowing everyone who could have talked some sense into Dean was already dead. Then Dean had started throwing whatever he could get his hands on. His beer bottle? Smashed against a nearby wall. Two chairs and a table met the same fate. After that, he ripped a cabinet door right off its hinges, and flung it at a window, which promptly shattered, a piece or two burying themselves in his left hand. He then used the same hand to beat the hell out of a wall. Only after he had thoroughly bloodied the wall with both hands did he stop, relishing the pain, using it to block his emotions. He had never even considered self mutilation, but maybe it wasn't as fucked up an idea as he'd thought. It certainly had its advantages.

He suddenly realized he had to pee, and automatically went into the bathroom and shut the door.

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Adianna orbed into a dilapidated old house, and her nose wrinkled at the smell of mildew that surrounded her. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy darkness, she found herself in a hallway. She became aware of a prickly sensation on the back of neck, a sure sign that there was something behind her she didn't want to see. Unsure of what it was, she readied herself for a fight. She whipped around, the floor creaking ridiculously as she did so.

It was a body.

It lay on an old mattress, fully dressed, completely still. In the dim light shining from the moon through a few windows, she could only tell that it was a man. Her instinct was to run over and see if he needed help, but she knew better than to let her guard down like that. At least, she did.

Until she saw who it was.

Addie ran to him without a thought.

"Sam? Sam? Come on, wake up!" She grew ever more distressed when she could find no pulse and hear no breath. She shook his shoulders, grabbed his jacket and shook as hard as she could. "Sam!" Desperate, she put her hands over his chest, calling forth her healing power. Never had she wanted it to work more than at that very moment.

It didn't.

The tears she had been holding back fell freely. "Sammy…oh God…" She crouched by his side, and took hold of his hand.

How could it have happened? He wasn't fine when he left, she knew. She hadn't been either. But this…?

She whipped around as she heard a creak behind her. Someone standing in the doorway had a shotgun aimed at her head.

"You have 10 seconds to get away from that bed and out of this house," he growled.

Addie flinched. She knew that voice. It was the one that had called her here.

She swallowed heavily. "No, Dean. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what happened."

Dean didn't falter. "Who are you?"

"Addie Lawrence. Sam told me about you. I used to go to school with him. Last time I saw him, he was driving away from his burned down apartment with you." A bit of hot anger reared, as she remembered how hurt and confused she had felt. He had never let her know where he'd gone, he'd never told anyone. He'd just disappeared. "Sam was one of my best friends. He left me alone to bury the other." With this revelation, the tears flowed even faster. Addie stood up, but didn't let go of Sam's hand. "Please tell me what happened."

After a long moment, Dean lowered the shotgun. "Guy stabbed him," he said emotionlessly, grabbing another beer off the floor. He took a long swig, doing his best to ignore the way her tears were somehow making him feel even worse.

"Who…?"

Dean winced, hearing her voice crack. "Some soldier. Doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" He stared at her, slightly alarmed at the sudden venom clear in her voice. She laid Sam's hand on the bed gently and walked up to Dean. "What did he look like? Do you have the knife?"

"He was black and psycho, and no I don't have the freakin' knife! Who gives a shit about the God damn knife?"

"Look, I can't explain right now, but if I have that knife, I can find the guy who did this and make sure he pays for it."

Dean stared at her for a second. "You sound just as psycho as the soldier was."

"Just tell me where it happened, damn it!"

"It doesn't matter, the guy's long gone and he took the knife with him." Dean went around Addie towards Sam. He stopped and looked at his little brother, feeling everything starting to well up inside him again.

"I might be able to fix this." Dean didn't react. "I'm not a normal person. I'm, well—" She searched for a good word. "—gifted. That's how I knew to come here, how I knew you needed my help."

Dean turned and looked at her. "Gifted. Care to elaborate?"

"Will you trust me less if I don't?"

"Yeah."

Addie sighed. "Fine. But you're not gonna like it." She took a deep breath. "I'm a witch."

"Oh."

"A real one. With magical powers."

"Right."

"I am."

"Prove it." The beer bottle in Dean's hand suddenly grew unbearably hot. He dropped it with a slight cry. "What the hell?!"

"I'm an elemental. Believe me now?" Dean gave her a wary look. "I'm not gonna fry you, flyboy. I'm here to protect you. It's in the job description. Now, I'm going to explain things to you quickly and as simply as I can. I'm half witch, half whitelighter, which is a sort of guardian angel for witches and future whitelighters, which is what I'm guessing you are. Basically, my dad died back in 1882, and then his soul was granted powers and put back on earth to help people about 60 years ago. 25 years ago he met my mom. That's how I came along. I heard you cry for help in my mind, sensed for you, and orbed here. Orbing is a type of teleportation. I can also heal wounds. Unfortunately, I lack the power to bring back the dead. So I'm going to use a spell to summon someone who might be able to. Follow all that?"

"Not at all."

"Funny. Is there a working bathroom in this place?"

"There." Dean pointed it out.

"Thanks." Addie walked to the door he'd pointed out.

"Hey." She stopped and looked back at him. "Who do you plan on summoning?"

"The Angel of Death. Who else?" Addie went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, leaving Dean to try and figure out everything he'd just learned, and whether he could really trust the strange girl who had gone from grieving to taking charge in the blink of an eye.