The Hale house looked more like it belonged in a quaint little town in England; than in the middle of Lakewood, Colorado. It was small and charming; complete with an overcrowded flower garden and strings of ivy making their way up the house. For some reason it made Sam and Dean feel strangely opposed to what they were about to do.

Dean knocked on the door and fidgeted uneasily as they waited for Rachel to answer the door. They could hear footsteps coming from inside and Dean settled himself just as the handle turned.

Rachel was strikingly beautiful, in a non-classic way. She was average height and weight, with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Her face was square and strong; with full lips, one brow arched slightly more than the other, and her nose went perfectly with the rest of her features. She looked from Dean to Sam and waited for them to speak. After a few seconds she initiated conversation, "Can I help you?"

Her eyes had caught both of the boys' attention and they were both hard to look away from and hard to look at. They made Dean feel uneasy and he was the first to respond, "Hi. I'm Agent Hatfield, this is Agent Hammett," Dean and Sam showed their badges. "We would like to ask you a few questions for you."

"We're sorry about your loss," Sam quickly added.

Rachel looked away and took a deep breath, "Did you find out who killed him?"

Hope faintly colored her question; which made Sam and Dean feel even worse about their coming conversation. "I'm sorry, no we haven't yet," Sam softly responded.

Her face fell and she struggled to steady her voice, "Then what do you want?"

"We're here about Jasper Morris," Dean responded.

"What about him?"

"He was killed the other day…"

"I know that," she snapped, "…it's a small town."

"Right, well we…" Dean tried to find some way of getting their questions answered without being brutally blunt. "We have been talking with Mrs. Morris and she said that you talked with him on the phone a lot. We thought maybe he had said something to you about being followed or threatened…"

Anger flashed in her eyes for a split second before it was replaced with surprise. "Oh, um…" she thought about their question for awhile, "no, nothing jumps out at me. I mean I think I would remember something like a threat."

Sam jumped in, "Well, it may not have sounded like a threat at the time. Did he mention any suspects or leads…the smallest thing could help."

"No, he never had any suspects or leads," anger was biting at the back of her words. "He never had anything." She paused and fought to get control of her self, "A year…and he never found anything. He always said he was working on it and I thought he was…he made me believe that. But…someone must have seen something, heard something; but every day it was, 'I'm sorry Rachel, there just isn't anything new. No one knows anything about your husband being attacked.'" Rachel's façade was cracking, tears started to roll down her cheek and she let them fall.

Sam put his hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her; but she winced and pulled away. "I'm sorry; we're sorry for your loss. Unfortunately the answers we want just can't always come."

She looked up at him for a long time before saying, "That's my phone. I should get that." She looked at Dean, "You know where to find me…" she stepped back inside and closed the door before either of them could respond.

"Nice going Dr. Phil," Dean told Sam as he started down the stairs.

Sam looked confused and quickly hopped down the stairs after Dean, "What do you mean?"

Dean looked questioningly back at his brother, "What do I mean? Did you hear her phone ring?" Sam looked back at the house with a thoughtful look, "You ticked her off; would've ticked me off too." Sam still looked confused so Dean stopped at turned to face him, "'Unfortunately the answers we want just can't always come?' You trying to make her suicidal?"

"I was just trying to tell her the truth," Sam shot back.

"Well, why stop there? You shoulda just said, 'Your husband's killer will most likely never be found; get over it.'"

"Oh come on, Dean! You have a problem with what I said? You're usually the one going in there, guns drawn, and accusing people just like her of killing their loved one!"

"Yeah, well I guess we've both changed," Dean opened the driver's side door.

"You've definitely changed. Nadia made you a practically different person." Dean stopped halfway in the car and stood back up and stared angrily at Sam over the top of the Impala. "Oh yeah, I forgot. She-who-must-not-be-named…well screw that! You fell in love and she, by some reason that's beyond me, fell in love with you too. So much so that she gave up the person she was to save your ungrateful ass!"

Dean turned white, "What?"

Sam looked away and tried to backtrack, "What?" he innocently asked.

"Sam, what do you mean she gave up the person she was?"

Sam stared at his brother and tried to think of some way to change the subject, it was hopeless. He sighed in surrender, "I can't tell you. I promised her."

"Is she, is she going dark…"

"No! God, Dean. She just had to do something that changed the type of person she is."

"As in she's not human anymore?"

"What? No. Dean, she isn't a demon or evil in anyway; okay?"

"Is she something we would try to stop? Something we would hunt?" Dean stared relentlessly at his brother.

Sam swallowed and thought quickly. Technically she's a reaper; which we might want to stop but can't… She is killing people before their time. But they are going to die eventually and she is trying hard to only kill those who deserve it. Think of how many people we've killed because we had to; there was no other choice… "No. No she isn't anything we would hunt," Sam truthfully told his brother. By the look on Dean's face he knew he had taken too long to answer. Even if he, himself didn't think Nadia was something to hunt; Dean could very well think otherwise.