"What the fuck was that?! Lory- Oh, no no no, don't you dare wal-"

The moment Dean reached out to grip Lory's upper arm, the look she gave him- like that of a rabid animal- made him regret it, though he was far too petrified to remove the hand until she spoke..

"It wouldn't be wise to piss me off any more than you already have… "

Three other jaws dropped while Dean's tightened and hers quivered with rage. He thought it best to tread much more lightly than he wished he could.

"Or what?" he mumbled, half-afraid to speak and not daring look her in the face.

His manhood obligated him to challenge her, but to tell the truth, he shuddered to find out.

She smiled cruelly at him, "Or I might send you back where you belong, you stupid son of a bitch."

This time Dean did look at her, but only to make sure the words he just heard had actually come from her mouth.

Never- never in a million years would she have imagined feeling those feelings of rage ever again- especially not toward Dean. No matter what he said or did, it never would have done much more than irritate her, but he had to dig- he just had to dig. And right then, she wanted to kill him. And he'd just put the noose around his neck.

"What did you call me?"

"Better than you deserve," she snarled.

"It's going to take a lot more than you huffing and puffing to scare me, little girl," he scoffed, convincing no one.

"Right, Dean. Because you're so tough and sooo special... Right? The king of the fucking hill! You're Mr. Chosen One, right? God handpicked you! You don't have to follow any goddamn rules!" she continued, waxing volume and anguish,"You don't have to listen to anyone! You can just step on people because you're so cool and handsome and important and you kill things and listen to acid rock and drive a vintage car! What Dean wants, Dean fucking gets, right?! Well, you got it…"

"Wait, wait- you don't even know me or anything about me! You have no right to judge me on ANYTHING!"he fumed (because he knew her words were true) and began to talk defensively with his hands, "I did what I had to do because this is MY responsibility. I'm Peyton, you're Eli. I'm number one on this, you're number two. You are here to help ME! Now, if you don't want to do what it takes to do that, then just say the word, because God knows I won't hesitate to leave you here."

Her full lips cracked into a slight, incredulous smile. And then a little snort escaped her, and that grew to a chuckle which exploded into mad, hysterical laughter. At that point, if everyone else in that room had not been thoroughly afraid, that did it.

"You're number one…" she repeated, drunk with madness "Top dog. Head honcho… Dean, you are a chicken shit. You can't feel big without making others feel small. You don't really feel good until you're making someone else hurt. That's why you pick on Sam. That's why you actually like doing nothing with your life except killing things. And that's why- every once in a while- you like to wrap your hands around girls' throats when-"

"You're fucking psychotic!" he scoffed, and that was all he could do.

Denying it would bring him further embarrassment because they both knew it was true.

"Oh, it's not so fun when people poke around in your brain, is it? And don't think for a second that I don't know about all those souls you Ginsued in the p-"

Her words were cut off by the smack heard round the world- or at least around the room. His hand stung almost as much as her face did. Bobby wanted to take Dean by the shoulders and shake him, but he could not move- literally. Sam, who had been stupefied throughout most of the ordeal sprung to his feet- or his foot. Mid-stride, he was frozen in position.

"Lory!" he cried helplessly, watching his brother writhe against the wall, about two feet off the ground.

Dean clutched at the invisible hands that clenched his throat, turning beet-red, while Lory twisted and manipulated her fingers- one set directed to the Winchester that struggled for his life, and the other holding the helpless spectators frozen in their respective positions. The look on her face was indescribable... But if one had to put it into words, they might say it almost like she was dying a painful death- and it was bliss.

"What's happening?!" Pamela cried, unable to rise from the bed.

And as quickly as all these events occurred, they ceased. Dean fell from the wall to his knees, still clutching his throat, and the others were free but they could do naught but remain in their places.

"I'm… I'm…" Lory stood trembling, tendrils of wet shine glittering on her mahogany face.

Dean simply looked up to her, his eyes begging her for mercy for whatever she may do next. Instantly, everyone (except Pamela, of course) could see the shame in remorse in her face.

"I didn't want to hurt you… I couldn't… I…" she muttered into blank space, her eyes wide and hollow, before directing her gaze to her still helplessly gasping beloved.

"I would never have hurt you…Do you see what you did to me?!"

She let out a cry like a wounded animal before clutching onto the walls, almost as weak as Dean now was, and staggering toward the ajar door.

"Lory!" Sam called helplessly again before finding his feet and allowing them to carry his now heavier weight toward her.

He reached out and grasped the air.

Without even turning around, she breathed, "Don't touch me… Please…. "

"Leave her be, Sam," advised Bobby, "Leave her be."

Only when she had finally disappeared from his sight did Dean remove his empty stare from her quaking legs. If his suspicions were wrong, and she had not been psychotic all along, there was no question that she now was. For once, he knew there was no denying it, no justification- He had pushed her too far.

.