Author's note: I did absolutely no research on Elizabeth's condition. I got the idea from an episode of Outer Limits about a young woman who had no emotions. Any similarities to any real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Sam and Dean changed back into their normal, everyday clothes as soon as they returned to the hotel. Sam sat at the hotel room table, pursuing his favorite pastime of online research. Dean sat on his bed, talking on his cell phone. "Yeah, Bobby… Nothing?... Oh, that's what I was afraid of… No, Sam's doing the research right now… Well, thanks, anyway. I'll call if I need anymore help. And good luck on your job. What are you doing again?... You've gotta be kidding. Newkirk, Oklahoma? We passed through that on the way here. 'Bout a mile wide, maybe around a thousand people? Little small for a coven, isn't it?... Well, okay. Thanks, again. Talk to you later." He closed up his phone and looked up at Sam.

"So, Elizabeth's disease," Sam said, a little self-satisfied, "it is real."

"Yeah, I figured that out when Bobby said he'd never heard of anything like her," Dean said.

"It's a very rare and practically unknown congenital condition," Sam said. "Got a name that's way too hard to pronounce."

Dean looked surprised. "You can't even pronounce it? Must be really bad."

Sam frowned slightly, but thought better of acknowledging Dean's comment. "It's very rare, and very secret. Most doctors don't even know it exists. Those who do generally only know about it because they have a patient with the disease. And everything that would tell us any more than what we already know is locked up so tight it'll take me all night to hack into it."

Dean whistled. "Somebody's trying to hide something."

"Whatever they're hiding is purely medical. I mean, one of the files I've been trying to get into- and can't- is by the FDA."

"So it's really not our kind of thing."

"Not her disease, no," Sam admitted.

"If this is such a secret," Dean asked, "what's Elizabeth doing in some dinky little hospital in the city of Townsville?"

"Well, apparently her case is nowhere near as severe as some," Sam said. "All of Dr. Fisher's information checks out, except that nearly all patients with this disease are unable to feel any emotions whatsoever, no matter how strong. In fact, Elizabeth seems to be the only one who can feel emotion at all."

"Making her a very unique case," Dean observed.

"Yeah."

"Which means, it might not even be real."

Sam started to say something, closed his mouth, took a couple of breaths, and said, "Whether it is or not, that still doesn't explain the angel killing. That's definitely in our league."

"We don't even know that this Rachel was an angel," Dean said. "All we have is the story of some cop who was probably half, if not wholly, drunk at the time and was probably seeing things."

"What about Elizabeth saying that picture of the angel looked just like her mother?"

Dean shrugged. "Coincidence."

Sam frowned. It was interesting how Dean only called something a coincidence when he didn't want to believe the truth. "And the coroner's report on Rachel and Jeremy Peabody, saying that they 'appear to have been killed by a long, sharp stake of some kind, although it has been impossible so far to determine the exact material used to make the stake.' That's a pretty good description of the angel swords."

"So?" said Dean. "Sam, if this is angels, where is Cas, huh? I mean, he's so worried about all his brothers and sister dying on the field, why isn't he here? And why are you so willing to believe Lizzie? She's yet to give us a good reason to."

Sam's voice was quieter, but still angry, as he said, "I don't think it's fair for us to accuse some poor girl when we don't have all the facts."

Dean stared at him for a minute. "What about all the things you've done lately, huh, Sam? You've been cold and distant ever since you came back from hell. Now all of a sudden, you want to protect some girl who's probably a murderess? What, are you trying to prove something?"

Sam set his jaw, trying hard to control his temper. He was so on edge these days, so close to blowing up at any little thing, he had to work to keep his cool. "I just want to keep people safe, Dean. I just want to do my job and protect as many people as I can."

"Bang-up job you've been doing so far, bro," Dean said sourly. "Even though you don't seem to notice how many people you trample in your rush to make the world a safer place to live."

A rush of wind made them both look back into the middle of the room.

"Cas!" they both exclaimed.

Castiel was as calm and placid and serious as ever. His trench coat waved slightly in the breeze he'd created. "He's right, Dean, about Elizabeth. This is the most important and the most dangerous case you've had since the Apocalypse."