Ashton stood in a dark, old kitchen, standing before an older woman who was going off about something. Cas stood next to Ashton, looking into her eyes. Makeup had smeared in the tired wrinkles under her eyes. Where there was once defiance and passion there was exhaustion, defeat. Even in his lack of comprehension to human emotion, Cas was disheartened by the sight in front of him. He could feel her discouragement, her brokenness. Finally, he tuned into the woman as she spoke, berating the young girl.

"...If you've got a problem with how I run my house you can leave. You can jump back on the street or run back to your psychotic father who doesn't give a crap about his worthless daughter! Understand?"

Perhaps Cas only noticed it because of his abilities, perhaps the woman never saw it. But within her something broke. Another part of her fell apart, shattered. She'd flinched hard at the word father. "Yes."

The woman reeled back and slapped Ashton, the force of her anger knocking the child into the dining table, causing a glass to fall and shatter. "Look what you've done!" A second hand hit her again, hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor, where she cut her hand against the broken glass. "Pick it up!" Blood oozed onto the floor as Ash gathered the pieces of glass. As she wiped up the blood with a towel the woman shook her head. "That'll teach you. Next time it's yes ma'am. You hear me?"

A quiet "yes ma'am" crawled from Ashton's lips.

"Now go to your room. I don't want to see you again until tomorrow." A red mark bloomed over the girl's cheek. After a moment, she turned and walked down a poorly lit hallway, making a left into the second bedroom. Two bunk beds had been pushed against the walls adjacent to the door. Worn and faded sheets and pillows laid on the tables. A small lamp on a dresser across from the door was the only light. Another girl lay on the top bunk of one bed, headphones jammed in her ears.

"Harley?" Ashton spoke quietly, voice shaking. There's was no response as Ash collapsed onto the bed and stifled her shaky breathing. Closing her eyes, tears slipped down her cheeks silently. She examined her bloody palm, biting her lip as she pressed her shirt to soak up the blood. After a moment she collected herself and turned onto her side, facing the wall. Within seconds she was asleep.

Tilting his head, he watched over her for a moment, her breathing and furrowed brow, the way she'd curled up in a ball. After a few minutes, Harley was yelled for. She lept from the bed, landing with a thunk loud enough to cause Ash to roll over. In a flash Cas was gone.

Dean looked up from his bed, journal in hand as his friend appeared next to him. "Hey! Hey how is she? Is she… I mean is she okay? Just tell me she's okay?"

"She's fine, Dean. Ashton's good. She's… she's safe."

"Really? Thank- thank you Cas. I… thank you," Dean gasped as he collapsed onto the bed. "My head's killing me, I'm going to get some rest."

Dean flopped onto the bed; despite the pounding in his head he'd felt better than he had in days, months actually. Just the thought that maybe Ash was alright brought him peace.

The morning came around too fast, with Sam's fists banging on his door. Groaning, Dean shoved himself from the bed, running a hand through his thick hair. "What?" He growled at his brother, before tumbling onto his feet. "Sammy, why so early?" The door swung open, Sam leaning impatiently against the frame.

"Dude, it's two in the afternoon, relax." Pushing his way into his brother's room, Sam leaned back against the edge of Dean's desk. "You feeling any better?"

A smile pushed the sleep out of Dean's eyes; Cas's words made his heart feel lighter, like maybe he would be okay. "Yeah, uh, it's Ash." Sam cocked his head, encouraging Dean to go on. "I… Cas offered to check on her, and I said yes. He said she's doing okay, better than okay. He said she was good."

Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother. Dean had never looked so at ease, so happy. "That's great, Dean. Seriously. I'm really glad."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I still miss her. God, I would give anything to have her here right now. But if she's okay that's all that matters. That's all I want."

Cas stepped into the room, the familiar seriousness cloaking his face. "I think I found another case."

"Slow down cowboy." Dean held up a hand. "I need a shower and sustenance. Sam, tell me you didn't forget the pie."

An hour later, the three of them were gathered around the table, Sam reading aloud an article about three women-murder from a nursing home in Wisconsin. "...Elise Bentley was found by her coworker, Theo Waring, on the morning of March 3rd, after Waring had come to carpool to work. Bentley was found in her kitchen, her kitchen and person covered in blood and vile, much like the other two women from earlier this month. Police have admitted that no new leads have been found and are at a loss for the next step."

"Yay," Dean sighed contemptuously. "My favorite- witches."

"How do you know this is witches?" Cas questioned.

"Who else would be so totally obsessed with bodily fluids?" Dean sipped his beer. "Alright let's go stake it out and check for hexbags." Cas nodded and was about to disappear when Dean grabbed his arm. "Nope. You're driving with us."

"Dean that is not prudent. I can be Wisconsin in seconds."

"Yeah I know. I want you to come with us. It's a gesture. Accept it. We'll leave in ten."

Ashton set the table, quietly placing each plate and piece of silverware at its proper spot. A boy, maybe 17, appeared in the doorway, watching her put a glass at each spot. When she'd finished she looked up to see the boy, freezing instantly.

"Hey Ash…" He took a step toward her and she began to shake.

"Stop." She tried to sound forceful but her voice wavered as he grabbed her arm, pushing her into the corner. "No!" She cried out, but he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"We both know that does nothing for you. Just chill." She struggled but his grip tightened on her arm and kept her from tearing away. He laughed. "Let's just have some fun."

Rachel Gooding was painting her nails when one slid off her finger and fell to the floor. In horror she stared at the bloody nail bed as another dripped onto the floor. She retched in disgust, blood gurgling up from her throat. Rachel leaned over her toilet, choking on blood and bile.

Dean shot through the lock, banging through the door and wrapping an arm around her. "Sam! Hexbag. Now!" Sam threw products from under the bathroom sink. Cas searched the bedroom, tossing pillows from her bed and yanking clothes out of drawers. Reaching behind the dresser, Cas felt a small bag drop into his hand.

"Sam!" Cas tossed the hex bag to the floor, where Sam shot it. Rachel spat out extra blood, but her vomiting ceased.

"What the hell, agents?!" Cas disappeared a moment, returning with a water bottle. Rachel accepted it with a nod of thanks, wiping off the blood that still lingered on her chin.

"Let me see your hand." Cas held out his own hand, covering her bloody fingers. A white light glowed over her hand and Rachel watched in awe as her nails grew back in seconds. Rachel spun around slowly, looking at each of them in turn.

"Seriously guys what is this? You are not FBI agents. What did that?" Panic set in as she realized what all happened. Dean grabbed her arm as she began to shake and cry.

"Alright come here. You're going to be okay." He brushed her dark brown hair, one hand pressed against her back.

"Wh-what do I even do now?" The four sat around her table, Rachel gripping a beer.

"Get the hell out of Dodge, okay kiddo? Just- leave. Immediately. We're going to take care of this witch coven but you need to leave." Rachel tipped back her beer, gulping down the rest.

"Okay. Yeah. Thanks. Just please, never come near me again."

The three boys slumped into the car, Dean looking around the two of them. "Let's get dinner I'm starving."

Hours later Dean pushed open the Bunker door, Sam and Cas following close behind. "I am dead tired. Time to-" Dean stopped suddenly, Sam nearly bumping into him.

"Dean-"

"Shh." Dean pulled out his gun and scoured the lower part of the Bunker. "Who's there?"

Sam hit the lights. Cas pointed to the light table, a huddle form under the table. The three walked slowly down the stairs, creeping to the table. "Get up." Dean barked.

The girl shook as she stood, bruises decorating her arms and face. She was covered in dirt, tear tracks marking her cheeks. Her lips pulled away to reveal several rows of teeth jutting from her mouth. Dean stared at his daughter, gun lowered.

"Ashton?"

"Please. Please help me."