Dean paced on the sidewalk outside the motel room. "So now what? We're supposed to be her peer counselors? I can't think of a worse idea."

"Me neither."

Dean stopped pacing to frown at his brother. "What?"

Sam crossed his arms thoughtfully. "No, you're right. It's gonna be a full time job. Maybe we should get somebody to help watch her."

"You want to bring in a babysitter?" Dean raised an eyebrow, then stopped and gave it a second thought. He gave an ornery smirk. "Actually…"

"Not just some civilian," Sam interrupted, before Dean could suggest anything dirty. "Let's call in a few favors."

A faint crash came from inside, and their heads both whipped around. Dean was first through the door, tensed for whatever trouble was waiting. The room was empty, but the light in the bathroom was on. They signaled to each other, then Sam quietly pushed the door open. Shards of glass covered the sink and part of the floor. The mirror was shattered. Edith sat on the edge of the tub, holding part of the towel bar in one hand.

Sam stepped over the broken bits of glass to get to her. "Are you okay? What happened?" He slipped the towel bar from her fingers and passed it back to Dean.

Edith looked surprised to see them. She glanced around the small bathroom, not bothered by the mess she had made. "The mirror was wrong," she stated.

"Wrong?" Dean repeated.

"I don't look any older," she explained calmly. "Can't be right."

Somehow they all managed to get out of the bathroom without anyone getting hurt. Edith gazed out the window, watching the morning grow brighter as the boys tried to form a plan. Castiel's suggestion to take her to the bunker seemed to be the only option. Keep her away from suspicious eyes. At least, until they could round up someone to keep an eye on her.

She absentmindedly agreed to the plan, and Sam stepped outside to make some phone calls.

Dean stayed inside to make sure their guest didn't destroy anything else. Edith flinched when the door slammed shut, but didn't move from her spot by the window. He watched her, feeling more uncomfortable with each passing moment.

"When did you get out?" she asked.

Dean frowned at her. "Excuse me?"

She was running her fingertip over a thin crack in the window pane. "When did you get out," she repeated, slower this time. "Of hell?"

"Four… almost five years."

"How?"

His brows creased together as he struggled over how to answer. "Angels," he finally said.

She nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. When she turned to look at him, her expression was solemn, almost unreadable. "I hoped I would see you again."

Dean swallowed hard, not breaking away from her gaze. They both jumped when the door opened again.

Sam narrowed his eyes at them. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Dean growled. "What have you got?"

Sam tossed his phone on the nearest bed. "Nothing yet, I left a few messages." He shrugged. "How about we get something to eat?"

Edith's eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, food! I've missed food."

"Food it is, then," Dean shrugged. "Let's go."

At first she didn't budge. Hesitantly, she asked, "do they still have milkshakes?"

Sam couldn't help laughing. "Yes, they still have milkshakes."

Edith almost smiled.

They watched cautiously as Edith made her first venture out of the motel room. She seemed a little surprised at the sight of Dean's car, but didn't let it stop her from walking right up to it. She turned back, looking more confident. "Well? Didn't anyone teach you manners?"

Dean moved to open the back door for her. "You're welcome," he said, with just a hint of frustration.

Edith ignored his tone. "Thank you," she said coolly, sliding across the seat and smoothing her skirt down.

Sam chuckled at his brother's exasperated look. "That could have gone a lot worse," he pointed out.

Dean got in the Impala without a word. He started the engine, and the radio came on automatically. Styx blared out of the speakers. Edith jumped at the sudden volume, frowning and covering her ears. "Sorry," Dean mumbled, turning the volume down just a little.

"What is that?" she demanded. "It sounds like angry geese!"

Sam bit back a smile. Dean clenched his teeth as he pulled the car out of the parking lot.

From the back seat, Edith peered out the windows as they drove. She frowned at the modern buildings, and let out a scandalized gasp at some of the outfits she saw.

"What do we feed her?" Dean asked, his voice low. "Besides milkshakes?"

Sam made a face as he thought about it. "How should I know?"

There was a fast food joint ahead. Dean half-turned in his seat. "Hey, uh… do you like burgers and fries?"

Her face lit up. "Do I ever!"

Dean gave his brother a smug look as he turned into the drive-thru. He pulled up to the menu board and ordered enough sandwiches to feed a small army. Edith looked amused as she watched him have a conversation with the speaker.

Static hissed. "Sorry, our milkshake machine is down. Would you like a soft serve instead?" The boys both turned to look at Edith. Her disappointment was obvious, but she shrugged. Dean ordered a half-vanilla, half-chocolate ice cream for her.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Edith quickly unwrapped a burger and closed her eyes as she took a huge bite.

"Is it good?" Sam grinned over the seat.

Edith motioned at the three giant soft drinks, and Sam passed her one. She washed the bite down and shuddered. "No, not really," she answered. "These are nothing like I remember." She took a smaller bite and made a sour face as she chewed. Then she wrapped the rest of her sandwich back in the paper and handed it to Sam.

He passed the ice cream back over the seat. It was in a clear plastic cup with a long-handled spoon. Edith smiled faintly. "You can't mess up ice cream." She took a bite, and her expression grew dark. She handed the cup back to Sam. "I was wrong."

She laid down across the back seat of the Impala and shut her eyes. Dean glanced back every few minutes. "Is she out?"

"Looks that way." Sam grabbed a few fries.

Dean glanced over his shoulder again before he spoke. "We need to take care of this as soon as possible. She is already getting on my nerves."

"I hear you," Sam agreed.

Dean took another bite of his sandwich, then balanced it on the wrapper spread across his lap. "I just thought she'd be more… I dunno, grateful, or something. She's like a cranky old lady."

Sam nodded, checking his phone again. Then he chuckled. "Actually, if she hadn't died, she would be over 100 by now."

"Makes sense. Next she'll start hitting people with her purse, and calling us by the wrong names."

Amused, Sam shook his head. "She's doing pretty well, considering. Most people would be a complete head case by now."

Dean scowled. "Are you forgetting what she did to that poor, defenseless mirror?"

"I know. But she was down there longer than both of us combined. You don't just bounce back from that. On top of that, she doesn't have family or friends to go back to."

Edith's head popped up behind them. "Pull over."

Dean jerked the steering wheel. "What's wrong?" He pulled on to the shoulder, and Edith practically dove out of the car as soon as it rolled to a stop. She fell on her knees a few yards away, and emptied her stomach into the grass. Dean quickly turned his back, taking a deep breath of exhaust fumes.

Sam waited until she seemed to be done, then helped her up. "Better?" She nodded weakly. He helped her to her feet, and walked her back to the car. "Take a drink, not too fast." He held the straw up to her mouth. "That burger was probably too rich on an empty stomach. Maybe you should start with something bland." She nodded again, then lay down, curling up on her side. Sam patted the roof of the Impala, signaling his brother. "All clear."

Dean peered at her through the back window. "She'd better be done." He shrugged off his jacket before getting back in the driver's seat. Before they took off, he leaned over the seat, and spread his jacket over Edith like a blanket.