Lory lay like a comatose rock in Bobby's spare bed.

"What could you possibly have said to her to make her pass out, Dean?"

"Sam," he replied in exasperation, "quit riding my ass."

"Actually, I don't think I will, Dean!" pushed the youngest Winchester, "Why should I? You never stop riding hers!"

"Oh, I'm the villain!"

"You're goddamn straight, Dean!"

"Boys-" Bobby tried to cut in.

"If you weren't phone-fucking Black Magic Woman, then maybe you could have jumped in and played White Knight with your other girlfriend, the way you always do. But, you snooze, you loose."

Sam was speechless. Dean was content.

"That is enough, goddamnit!" Bobby spat, thoroughly fed up, "Now, this girl is laying up here passed out over something you said to her, Dean. Now I don't know what it was supposed to mean, but it must've been ugly to make her run out like that. Sam…"

The youngest looked up at the mention of his name.

"Lory has a mouth. She can take up for herself. Had you been back there, trust me, you would've seen it," he said with a slight reminiscing smile, "All fighting with your brother is going to do is make things a hell of a lot worse. I can't imagine what it must be like for that girl to be stuck in a car with you bozos arguing all day. Ain't ya'll a little old for that sibling rivalry crap? If you put half that energy into that Lilith bitch, she'd be long gone by now."

All either of them could sit there, both looking and feeling stupid.

"Dean," Bobby continued, "I understand what you were trying to do with Lory and Pamela, and even though you went about it half-assed- God knows why you didn't think of asking the girl- I do agree with you. It makes sense."

"Thank you!" Dean said with a gesture akin to a reverse field goal sign.

"But I think you might have blown any chance of her letting Pamela into her head. You catch more flies with honey," Bobby shrugged.

"I don't catch flies, I hit them with things," Dean retorted flatly, leaning forward in his chair.

Sam leaned against the dresser, looking over Lory's face. It was as blank as it was when she was awake. Dean looked over at her, too. He couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of something that might slightly resemble guilt. He even took it as far as wondering whether or not he pushed too hard. He quickly dismissed the idea.

"Bobby, bring Pamela."

Bobby examined his serious face with curiosity, unmoving.

"What are you planning to do?" Sam asked, speaking the question that Bobby wanted to ask, but was sure he knew the answer to.

"We can take advantage of this."

"Dean, come on," Sam sighed half-pleading.

"Don't fight me on this," Dean replied in much the same tone, "Fighting this thing is my responsibility. What can it hurt? She probably won't even know."

"He's right, Sam," Bobby shrugged, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Smoothing his hand over his chin, and then refolding his arms, Sam started tentatively, "I'm not involved in this…"

His brother nodded.

When Bobby returned with Pamela, and led her to Lory's bedside, her hand immediately went to the girl's forehead.

"Half the work's done," she smirked but it faded, "I don't know how I feel about doing this, though. Besides, what exactly am I looking for again?"

"We need to know what she can do," shrugged Dean.

"I might not even have to touch her mind to sense her powers," she said, sounding relieved.

Dean was slightly disappointed.

Pamela's fingers curled slightly, feeling the air around Lory's body.

"The only thing I'm feeling are things we know about… But there may be something that needs to be unlocked…I would have to dig…"

"Do it," Dean urged, "Whatever it takes."

The psychic's face settled into a look of absolute focus and determination. If something was there, she would find it. However, the younger woman's serene face began to shift as well. Her permanent pout gained in definition. Her thick, soft brows furrowed and from behind her closed lips, a soft grunt escaped.

"Whatever you're doing, do it quick," advised Bobby,"She's waking up."

Pamela said nothing as both female faces screwed in contempt for one another.

"Maybe you should stop this," Sam offered as he shakily pushed a stray lock back from his face.

His eyes never left the now writhing girl.

"We can't afford to stop. Not while we have the chance to do this."

The words rolled from Dean's throat, low and raspy.

"It's hurting her!" Sam protested angrily, wondering if he was the only sane member of the party

."It's not," Pamela said impatiently, "she's just fighting."

"In her sleep?" Dean questioned in disbelief.

"She's strong," Pamela continued quickly, "She doesn't have to even really know what's going on to guard herself."

Dean rose from his seat, asking no one in particular, "Why the hell is she fighting so hard?"

"Wouldn't you?" Bobby replied quickly, and in a tone that implied he needed no answer.

Ignoring him completely, Dean nodded to Pamela, "What are you getting?"

"I'm trying not to touch anything I don't need to," she explained.

"Sift through it all," he urged with a tone of finality.

Sam lifted his head and turned it very slightly to the side, studying his brother for a second before speaking his conclusion. He scoffed.

"You're taking advantage of this, aren't you?"

"Sam, what are you talking about?" he asked dismissively.

"What has she ever done but help us?"

"This is not a blow to Lory! This about saving people!" he barked.

"This is about looking for reasons not to trust her! What is with you?"

"Sam…" he said through clenched teeth, but he may as well have bared his teeth told him to back off because that's what was heard, and Sam heeded.

Dean meant what he said. This was bigger than his distaste for Lory. If he just wanted to mess with her, he could do a damn good job of it without Pamela's help. If she was anything more than just an extra person to worry about, then he was damn sure going to use it.

The angels hooked us up for a reason, right?

Whether or not he liked it, and despite the fact that he would never admit it aloud, he knew that their destinies were intertwined. Even though everything about her made him itch inside, he had come to accept that he was stuck with her. After hearing all that Sam had told him, he had reached the conclusion that she was either insane- no, not either, he took that as a given- that she was either lying or this was some hardcore match made in heaven. He laughed inside at both the pun and the irony.

He didn't hate the girl. Despite what anyone in that room thought, he didn't hate her. He wanted no harm to come her- and that's what hate usually entails. Back at that haunted gas-station, Mr. Ice King's heart sped up. He ran to that bathroom as fast as he could, kicked down the door as hard as he could, and carried her back to the car as gentle as he could without having her hanging outside in ripped panties for too long. No, he didn't hate her at all. He simply resented her.

She was like a disturbance in the force- the sour note that screwed up the harmony they had going. Since the very first moment he and Sam met her, they quarreled, and it was different. Up until that point most of their fights would go as follows: Dean would do something stupid, or Sam would say something gay. One would call out the other. Sam would call Dean a jerk, Dean would call Sam a bitch, and they would go get cheese fries and cold beers everything would be peachy keen. Even when things got a little out of hand, they would have one big and then everything would be cool for another month or two. But they'd been fighting nonstop for weeks. Sam was beginning to piss Dean off as much as Lory did. All because he never missed a beat when it came to taking up for her. The closer Sam and Lory got, the farther apart Sam and Dean grew. In Dean's mind, it made sense to blame it all on Lory.

The funny thing was, Dean could usually handle resenting someone. He resented a lot of people in his life- most people he met. But the thing he couldn't handle was fear.

"Dean!" Pamela repeated, waning patience.

"Huh?" he said, jumping a little, clearing both his throat and his mind, shaking his reverie.

He looked at his hands, wondering why they were shaking, but then he heard the pounding and clacking and realized that he was shaking because the room and everything in it was shaking.

"I asked if you want me to keep going!" she urged, now holding onto the girl who was writhing feverishly, "She's putting up a wall, but I can break through it- but God knows what that'll do."

"I knew this was a bad idea…" Sam hissed, now at Lory's bedside, clutching her forearm, "Pamela, you gotta stop this."

"No, Pamela," barked Dean.

"Okay…" she warned before hissing, "Come on, honey…Let me in… Let me in!"

The blinking of the lights gave the room a hint of unreality.

"Bobby!" pleaded Sam helplessly for some assistance.

"LET ME IN!"

Everyone barely had enough time to shield themselves from the shards of mirror that flew from the dresser.

"HOLY SHIT!" Bobby exclaimed, hitting the deck.

At this point, Pamela couldn't quit if she wanted to. She was so close… so close…

Lory was bolt upright, her eyes wide and unyielding, starring straight ahead at the dresser and frame, and the shards of glass that still managed to remain attached to the wood. Sam gently squeezed her wrist.

"Lory… Are you all right?"

Her eyes found Dean's, which were as big as sage-colored saucers, and locked on them. The fear and disbelief in his face said it all, and it was a good thing, too, because for once, Dean was speechless and soon to be breathless.

The thing to unwind him was this:

With the deepest contempt, her eyes blazing with the hurt of the betrayed, she bellowed in a voice like a growl. "I told you NOT to dig…"

.