When everyone's mug was full of coffee, and properly creamed and sugared (if they so desired; Bobby took his black, and Dean wanted no milk with his sugar and coffee) it was time to get down to business.

"Okay, so let's talk turkey," Dean began, the self-elected facilitator of this discussion. "We need to figure something out. Quick."

"That, we already have figured," Bobby grunted before bringing his cup to his bearded face.

With a sharp look at Bobby, Dean continued, "We have something pretty nasty on our hands and virtually no way to deal with it. There's no rewind button on this. All we can do is fight it, and we sure as hell can't do that alone. So, Bobby-"

"Yep?"

"We're going to need the contact info of every single hunter you have ever come across. If you don't have the info, give us a name, we'll look 'em up."

"That's gonna be a lot of lookin', boys," he sighed, shaking his head.

"We don't have much of a choice," Sam shrugged, the only member of the party who was unseated and on edge.

While the men dominated the conversation, Pamela simply responded with her face. Lory sat stirring her completely mixed coffee, her eyes darting between each man as he spoke.

"Even if I knew more than the handful of hunters that I do," Bobby began gravely, "there ain't a way in hell that there's gonna be enough to match every pissed-off spirit that's been raised. And somehow I'm convinced you don't even know how many that is."

"We've got to do something," Dean replied simply, stroking the roughness of his chin and cheeks, "and until we can find an umbrella solution, this is pretty much what we've got. Besides, if we tell our friends to tell their friends, it'll get to everybody… Eventually… All we need is for everyone to be on the lookout. Most hunters with common sense will know something's up soon, anyway."

"I'll see what I can find out about this," Sam volunteered, pulling out his phone as though no one could hear it vibrating and leaving the kitchen.

"Right… Do that…" Dean grunted sourly behind him.

Pamela gracefully settled her arms on the table, leaning slightly forward with an exhausted sigh.

"Well, if you boys got this thing all figured out, what do you need me for?"

Lory looked up immediately. The same question had been bouncing around in her mind.

Dean sighed, slightly arching his brow, "We had- I had an idea. You see, you know that Lory-"

The girl's gaze shot to him upon the mention of her name.

He continued, nodding toward the girl without his eyes grazing her form "is like a ghost-whisperer, what have you. From what we know- what she's told us- is that she doesn't know much more about it than that. But I was hoping that you might be able to dig deeper, kinda like… like with Anna. Maybe there's something in her that she doesn't know she has that we can awaken to stop this-"

"Wait a second," Lory chimed in, "you want to canvas my psyche?" she asked for clarification.

"We need to stop this thing, Lory. You of all people should want to. I thought you wanted to help me and Sam, huh? Isn't that why you're here?" he challenged.

The blankness left her face immediately and her permanent pout formed a hopeless "O" like a fish drowning in air.

"I'm not here for you to decide without my consent that you're going to let a stranger dig for buried treasure in my head!" she protested with an indignant squint, making her eyes even tighter, "No offense, Pamela," she added quickly.

Showing her palms, the psychic replied, "None taken."

Digging his forearms into the table, Dean leaned across it, locking eyes with Lory in the coldest way, his jaw stiffening.

"Last I checked, you were a firm believer in brain-picking."

"I've never picked anything," she spat defensively, "Catching vibes from someone and searching their mind for God knows what are two completely different things."

Her hands cupped around her mug to conceal their trembling.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this, Dolores?" Dean asked very softly like the good cop, "What are you hiding?"

She looked at him as though he had just reached across the table and slapped her. It would have been easier for her to give a response if he had.

"You don't even realize how big of a dick you are, do you?" she asked as coolly and blatantly as she would if asking for the time.

"Excuse me?" was all he could muster, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair.

Pamela held back a smile but Bobby neglected to give Dean the courtesy.

"Who do you think you are?" she asked, rising from the table.

He'd never felt so small in his life…

"Well, dramatic much?" he scoffed.

"Where do you get off with this? I can take you being a jerk to me for whatever reason, but I'm not going to let you push me around. I have my reasons, and I'm not going to do this."

Feeling the need to do something, Bobby sighed finally, "Nobody's going to make you, hun."

"Go ahead and baby her, Bobby. Let her be a selfish, spoiled little fucking brat. Maybe Casper will pop her cherry this time."

Lory's feet hit the linoleum as hard and fast as they could carry her, then the hardwood of the living room, then out the door.

Turning to Dean with a look of reproach, Bobby stared Dean down for a long, hard moment.

"What?" Dean said impatiently.

"She's right. You are a dick."

"Oh, come on! Help me out, Pamela."

"A big, veiny dick," she nodded matter-of-factly.

Lory didn't know where she was going, except that it was far away from Dean. Just ran round the back of the house and kept on running. When her legs got tired, she limped. She didn't notice she was cold until she started shivering, her tears stinging on her face. So that was what she loved? Someone cruel and vindictive and spiteful? She chuckled softly to herself- madly. He was neither cruel nor vindictive nor spiteful. He simply hated her. With every ounce of his being.

The deep, penetrating stab of it, paired with the weak burning in her legs and lungs caused her to collapse. Balled on top of her knees, she lifted up her head yonder toward the dark towers a ways before her. It took her the longest time to realize that they were cars- stacked one on top of the other. The thought made her throbbing head giggle (she wasn't sure whether or not her mouth followed suit).

"That's funny…" she said, either in her head or aloud.

She couldn't tell that either.

Then it all went black.

.