37.
Shannon sat on the floor of her apartment's small kitchen, arms wrapped around her shins. "I attacked an angel with a baseball bat," she said again, still in shock.
"Get up," Dean ordered. "Pack a bag."
She blinked and looked up at him. "What? Why?"
"We're leaving," Dean replied shortly.
"But—I—No, I can't," Shannon protested.
"They're going to try to use you to get to me," Dean snapped. "So I can kill you or take you with me. I really have no problem with either."
Shannon stared at him for a moment, and then got to her feet, leaving the kitchen. She was back a few minutes later with an overnight bag on one shoulder. Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Okay, listen up," he growled. "I'm only keeping you as long as you don't slow me down. You do exactly as I say, when I say. If I think even for a moment you're going to be an inconvenience, I'll snap your neck. Got it?"
She nodded wordlessly. Dean growled under his breath and walked over to grab her arm. "All right. Let's go."