Edith settled into the couch cushions. She rested her bandaged hands in her lap and crossed her ankles. Tamara curled up at the other end of the couch, tucking her feet beside her. "I know you're nervous," she said gently. "It's completely understandable. But all we're going to do is talk. From what I've found, the more you talk about something, the less power it has over you."

"Okay," Edith said, her voice small.

"Just close your eyes, get comfortable. I'm going to guide you through a relaxation technique." She waited while Edith sat back and let out a slow breath. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. If you get nervous, if you need to stop, just tell me. Good?"

Edith nodded.

"I want you to imagine a place that's very beautiful, very safe. Somewhere lovely. It could be a place you make up in your imagination, or a place you have visited in your life. Just imagine yourself going to a place where you feel peaceful and relaxed." Tamara waited. "Are you there now?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. If you can, just take a moment and look around. Take in any pleasant smells in the air. Notice the temperature, and what time of day it is. If there are any noises around you, they are quiet, and calming. Pay attention to how comfortable you are here. Allow yourself to relax, to just take in that feeling of peacefulness. You have nowhere to be, nothing urgent to do. Let it recharge your body and your mind."

Tamara paused again, giving Edith a minute to find herself. She watched the worry lines smooth on the girl's face, and her shoulders relax.

"I want you to remember, if you enjoy this place, you can come back to it any time you wish. You don't have to wait for me. If you find yourself feeling anxious or overwhelmed, just breathe deeply, and you can come to this place of comfort and safety."

Sam cracked open the door and peered in, motioning for Tamara. She waved him away. He gave an apologetic look and motioned again.

Tamara sighed, turning back to Edith. "Just take a moment to explore your place of relaxation." She waited a second, then pushed herself up off the couch. Lowering her voice, she led Sam out and closed the door. "This better be important, you cannot make a habit of interrupting her sessions."

"No, I know." He had a handful of loose papers. "Are you doing thought regression?"

"Perhaps. What do you have?" Her eyes flickered across the text. "Dear Lord," she said under her breath.

"Maybe if you could just ask about this name," he pointed at a highlighted word.

She looked up at Sam, narrowing her eyes. "What exactly do you hope to accomplish by this?"

"If we can find out why this happened, it might explain why she's here."

"Why she's... now hold on, what do you mean by that?"

Sam tilted his head to the side. "Didn't Garth tell you?"

Tamara sighed. "Garth only passed along what Dean told him, which apparently wasn't the half of it. Where did you find this girl?"

He shifted his feet. "We did a spell." Tamara's face fell, but Sam went on. "It would send a demon back to hell and rescue a human soul in it's place. We didn't know what to expect."

She was staring at him with wide eyes. "Are you telling me you pulled that girl out of hell?" At Sam's pained expression, Tamara groaned loudly, running her fingers through her short hair. "And you expect me to rehabilitate her?"

"We don't have much of a choice; you're our best option. Listen, nobody is expecting any miracles, but you can't help…" he trailed off.

"Then what, she's out of luck? If I can't fix her, you'll just give up trying?"

"No, absolutely not. Nobody is giving up. Edith just needs time, and patience. Someone who has the slightest idea what they're doing, which Dean and I do not. Garth thought you were the best person for the job."

"Maybe because your brother conveniently left out the part about hell. This is so far beyond my pay grade; I don't even know where to begin. There is no precedent for this!"

"I know, believe me. That's exactly why we called for backup." Sam put his hand on Tamara's shoulder. "Let me ask you something. How did you get into this? Counseling, therapy, why do you do it?"

She crossed her arms. "You really want to know?" It was more of a challenge than a question. "After my husband died, I was angry. Furious. I wanted revenge on any monster I could get my hands on. Sound familiar?" She gave him a pointed look. "You know how it goes. I became reckless." At that, she raised up her shirt to reveal a jagged scar across her stomach. Sam inhaled sharply at the sight. It was a crooked line of purple and white against her brown skin, the entire scar about seven inches long. Tamara let her shirt fall into place as she continued. "While I was in hospital, a friend told me-" She paused, and the anger seemed to fizzle out of her. She sighed. "-to stop chasing death. It was not the way to honor Isaac's memory, or our daughter's." She smiled wistfully. "I decided to give up hunting."

"How?" Sam was intrigued. "I mean, knowing what you know…"

Tamara laughed. "Well, there's more than just putting down the monsters. Once the threat is gone, people are left confused, shaken. That's where I fit in now. When the hunters leave, I help the victims put their lives back together. I've been taking classes, researching new techniques. I even got a job; I work part time at a veteran's retirement home."

"You make it sound so simple. Doesn't it put you in more danger from everything that's out there, now that you've stopped fighting?"

She pursed her lips. "Maybe. There's always going to be something to be afraid of. But I couldn't keep going on like that without my life standing for something."

That struck a chord. He studied her, his expression serious. "Are you happy?"

Her eyes crinkled up in a genuine smile. "Very much. I miss my family, but I know they would be proud of what I'm doing. It feels good to help."

Sam nodded. His eyes flicked past her to the closed door.

Tamara made a face. "Oh, I see what you did there. Damn it, Winchester! Fine, you got me, I'll give it a shot." At that, she snatched the papers from his hand, and went back inside the room. Chuckling, Sam strode off to find his brother and fill him in on the new information.

Dean had also been looking for Sam, and they found each other at the bottom of the staircase. "I gotta tell you something," they both said simultaneously.

"You go ahead," Dean insisted.

"I figured out who Edith was. The reason I couldn't dig up anything sooner was because I was looking under the wrong name." He shuffled through the stack of pages in his hands. "Edith Nolan was her maiden name; her death certificate, and everything else I've found, is under her married name: Edith Anderson."

Dean rubbed a hand across his neck as he thought that over. "So then, what? She married the herpes guy?"

"Really, Dean?" Sam brushed off the remark. "Anyway, some of these articles are pretty recent, but I want to go out there and check things out before we tell her anything." He came across one headline and stopped, a smile forming on his face. "Oh, and then I stumbled across this." He held the page out to his brother.

"Whoa." Dean's eyebrows went up as he took the printout. "Nice. But how does this help us?"

"I found a group at the university that specializes in that sort of thing. They're meeting on Friday. I think we should take Edith." He noticed Dean's hesitation. "What? Don't you think that's a good idea?"

"I don't know. Look at us, man." Dean scuffed his foot on the bottom step. "What if this is exactly what Crowley wanted. I mean, we're up to our elbows with this chick, figuring out who she was, trying to keep her from offing herself. What if he was counting on that? Maybe this whole time he's been working up something big and nasty, and she's the distraction."

"Maybe." Sam nodded somberly. "So what then? Do we leave her here with Tamara?"

Dean sighed. "No... I don't know." He looked at the paper in his hand again. "Listen, this ain't a bad idea. You take her. I'll stay here and hold down the fort."

"I was actually hoping you could help me with something beforehand." Sam got his puppy eyes ready just in case. "You'll like this, I promise."

Author Note: I originally did not intend on putting the entire script of Tamara's relaxation therapy into this chapter, but it occurred to me that someone reading this story might benefit from it. The method described here is almost identical to something actually used by therapists for patients with stress, anxiety, or trauma. If you're interested, just google "relaxation training exercises" or my personal favorite "progressive muscle relaxation" and try it out.