"You're sure this is right?" Sam asked as he and Dean stood on the tidy front stoop of the small white house.

"It's the address Madi gave us," the elder hunter nodded, "it's right."

The door, the same color as the house and almost invisible because of it, opened suddenly. "Can I help you gentlemen?" a young woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, stood in the doorway, watching them.

"Um, yes," Dean said, flashing his most charming smile, "I'm officer Teague, and this is my partner, officer Forester. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter if it's not too much trouble."

"I've already talked to the cops," she replied, slowly retreating into the house and closing the door.

"We realize that, ma'am," Sam nodded as Dean stuck his foot in the doorframe in an effort to keep the attractive older woman's attention, "but we need to get the facts straight."

Lily sighed heavily. "Come on in." She opened the door and stood aside so the boys could enter. Reluctantly, she pointed them in the direction of the prim house's sitting room, where they sat in chairs across from the couch where their host chose to settle.

"So, Lily Collins," Dean began, noticing for the first time how beautiful she really was and wanting nothing more than to spent at least one night 'comforting' her, "your daughter Keira-"

"She died in warehouse 58, yes. No known cause. We had a fight just before she died. I can't even remember what we were fighting about now."

"Why would she have gone out to the warehouse?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe because I had told her a thousand times not to play down there."

"Why?" Sam asked, leaning forward, "why wasn't she allowed to go there?"

Lily smiled slightly through her tears, a small gesture that Dean noticed and interpreted immediately. His shoulders slumped. She'd noticed his brother, caring, compassionate Sammy, and the elder hunter knew that he didn't stand a chance with her now.

"Creeps," she answered, "there's no way to tell who could be out there or what they could want with my daughter. I didn't want her to get hurt."

"And the condition of the body?" Dean questioned.

"What do you mean?"

"How'd she look? Was she all bloody? Cut up? Was she all there?" Lily's eyes widened and Sam stomped on his foot, but Dean knew the question had to be asked. He'd seen the way the attractive woman had looked at him as opposed to Sam, so what if he played bad cop? She wasn't interested in him anyway.

"She was all there," Lily finally replied through sobs as Sam moved to the couch and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, "not a scratch on her, but she was dead. I know she was murdered. Please, find the people who did this."

"We will," Sammy promised, squeezing her shoulders as she leaned up against him, tears streaming down her face, "I promise." He gazed across the room at Dean, his face set, eyes determined.

Dean nodded. "Warehouse 58."