36.
When Shannon walked into the living room of her tiny apartment to find a blonde man in a dark blazer, her reaction was more annoyance than alarm. "God, do you people even know what a door is?" she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at the intruder. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Where is Dean Winchester?" the man demanded in a British accent.
"I don't know," Shannon replied. "I haven't seen him in two months."
He stepped forward threateningly. "He owns the contract on your soul. Where is he?"
Shannon stepped back, panic abruptly flaring in her chest. "I don't know," she repeated. "Please go away."
The man pressed forward again, backing Shannon toward the kitchen. "If you don't know, then we can easily find out," he said with a sneer.
Shannon turned and bolted for the kitchen, scrabbling for the phone in its cradle. The man was there at her side in an instant, snatching the phone from her hand and slamming it down hard enough to shatter it. He grabbed her around the throat, lifting her off the floor.
"Hey, dickwad," called a voice from behind the stranger. He dropped Shannon and whirled around.
From where she lay choking on the kitchen floor, Shannon could see Dean standing by the far wall, a strange, silver sword in one hand. His face was twisted in a snarl. "Get the hell away from her," he rumbled dangerously.
The blonde man charged at Dean without a word, a blade appearing in his hand. Dean tried to dodge out of the way but the man drove his blade at Dean's chest. Dean caught the blade on his own at the last minute, but the force of the blow drove him backwards into the wall, leaving a body-sized dent behind.
The man raised his sword for another strike and Dean, stunned from the first blow, was a second too late in reacting. But before the man's sword could bite into Dean's flesh, Shannon hit him over the head with a baseball bat. The man stumbled sideways, throwing up his arm to ward her off, but she kept coming, raining blows down on him with all her strength.
"Leave. Him. Alone. You. Bastard!" Shannon gritted out with each swing. The man finally caught the bat and yanked it out of Shannon's hands, advancing on her with thunder on his face. Dean grabbed his arm before he could hit the girl and drove his silver blade into the man's ribs with all his strength. With an agonized cry, the man disappeared, leaving Dean behind with a dripping sword.
Shannon stared at the spot where the man had stood. "Who was that?" she demanded, eyes wide.
"An angel," Dean replied, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.
Shannon went pale. "You mean I just beat an angel with a baseball bat?" she asked, her voice going squeaky at the end.
Dean grinned at her. "Yeah. And it was kinda hot."