"Everyone has a weakness", she says to them, huddling into herself on one side of the booth as the boys sprawl in the opposite one. Dean lifts the beer bottle twice, staring at something in the distance, before realizing it's empty. Marie traces the lip of her water glass nervously, and Sam watches her long fingers shake. "Everyone has a… a secret," she continues. "Over the past few weeks, I've heard some of your secrets, some of the things very few people know, and I've wanted so much to tell you mine… but, Dean, with all due respect, I had to wait until you… well, until I was sure you were ready." She takes a deep breath and looks around the darkened pub before looking back to meet Sam's eyes with intense, necessary surety. She shifts to cross her legs and then continues, voice calmer than her fingers. "I was not just sent like a drone to give you bad news and wait for you to get better, to report back your progress to Missouri or to Ellen. I'm here because if this demon is going to be defeated, as good at your job as you boys are, you're going to need my help." She looks from one brother to another, trying not to be injured by Dean's blank, impassive stare. "Sam, Dean, I'm not just psychic. And I'm not a parlor magician, either, though the tricks I know are great for impromptu performances. I'm… oh, God, I hate this word. In layman's terms, the most simple and misleading of relatable names – I'm a witch."
Neither man reacts much. Dean scoffs and drinks out of Sam's half-full beer before rising silently, presumably to go to the bathroom. Sam lifts his eyebrows and opens his hands. He gives a nonchalant, purely Sam frown and says "So what?" She smiles, opens her hands in front of her face as she shrugs and then folds them in front of her on the table.
"So there you go. That's the big secret." She takes a sip of her lemon water.
"Is that why you won't have a beer?" She laughs a little as the tension breaks under Sam's question. She shakes her head, glad to be back in their normal relationship, an easy friendship.
"No, actually – I don't like beer. I'm very old fashioned and prefer wine." She smiles softly and looks away for just a moment.
Sam yells something and her vision goes black.
Shouting. Someone is shouting. I can hear him, but I can't see him, hear him calling a name. My name? My name isn't Dean. Something about not being able to walk away from this. From me? About being a monster. I'm not a monster. I'm a healer. I save people. Don't group me with the monsters, please. I'm not one of them. I'll never be one of them. They're sick. They're evil. I'm fighting the monsters, Dean. Dean, I'm not a monster. I'm not a monster. I'm not a monster. I'm not a monster. I'm not a… I'm not… I'm …
"She saved Jo's life once, Dean! She lived with Missouri! Just because she's not normal doesn't mean she's evil! Jesus, Dean, I'm not normal either! You're going to be the one to get us killed! And in the middle of a bar?"
"I was doing my job, Sam. That's what I do. The family business, remember? Now you know I'm back and ready for action, ready for the next job."
"You're too calm about this, Dean. You can't just kill the woman who held you while you cried about Cassie. You think I don't know how that feels? How it feels to lose the woman you love? Have you forgotten about Jess so easily? I would have killed to have Marie here when I was dealing with Jess. But I had you. And that was it. You can't shoot in cold blood someone who has had countless opportunities to kill you if she meant you harm and DIDN'T TAKE THEM. She's not going to hurt you!" There is steel in Dean's voice; Marie can hear him from her place at his feet, crumpled in the dirt.
"She killed me."