At the first stop you learned your lesson, that the bruises on your face caused more whispered conversations than you would have hoped for. Men and women alike gave you odd glances, before turning and whispering to their companions, some brazen enough to point your way. Upon using the restroom, you saw what everyone else was looking at, a haggard woman who looked like she had met the wrong end of a wall, or a fist.

Deciding that a big pair of sunglasses might help cover the bruise, you turned to leave when a lady opened the door. She automatically smiled up at you, before gasping in shock. She was a beautiful woman, age softening her features. Her once black hair was highlighted with gray, turning it a stunning charcoal, her blue, almost violet eyes framed by laugh lines. She was dressed nicely in ironed tan trousers, and a white, billowy, silk blouse.

"I'm sorry to stare my dear, but that really does seem painful." She said, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were talking to a wild animal.

"Not as bad as it could be." You answered, ready to push past her and make your way to the Impala, where Sam and Dean were probably already waiting for you.

Before you could go through the door, the lady placed a soft, manicured hand on your forearm. "I noticed you were with those two rugged, handsome men. Did one of them do this?" She questioned.

"It's not what you think." You replied, hating that it was exactly as she thought.

She placed a card in your hand, before moving so you could leave. "There's always help for those who need it. Please remember that."

You placed the card in your pocket, before buying the biggest pair of sunglasses you could find, sliding them on before heading back to the Impala. Sam smiled at you as you slid in, and Dean turned to look at you, his eyes freezing as he saw the bruise still peeking out from the bottom of the sunglasses. Without saying a word, he faced the windshield and pulled the car onto the road once again.

"Where to now?" Dean asked, an edge to his voice.

Sam glanced at the GPS on his phone. According to Cas, she was last seen two towns over, a small, rural city that had recently seen more crimes happen than ever in their history. "Keep going down this road. We'll be there in about an hour."

That hour went by fast, with Dean staring the road down, Sam double checking his information and you? You sat in the back, silent and still, the thoughts in your head running a hundred different directions. If she was really there, would Dean really be able to kill her? Would he be able to come back from that type of high, it had taken Sam's gentle coaxing to bring him down after the last incident with the first blade. Then, after everything was said and done, would your old Dean come back to you, the mark well fed and sated? Or would he continue to feel the urge to feed the mark, his emotions more violent and unpredictable than ever. Is there a way to get rid of the mark?

All these thoughts plus many more kept running through your mind, keeping you occupied during the trip, and it wasn't until Sam shook your shoulder that you realized the Impala had pulled into the parking lot of a small, quaint hotel, with a distinctive Scandinavian feel to it. The walls were a dark wood, the trim inside and out painted with bright colors. The rooms were fresh and airy, pictures of meadows and flowers hanging on the wall. It was cozy and cute, a far cry from the sterile feel the bunker sometimes gave off.

Sam threw his bag on one bed before hurrying to the bathroom, leaving you and Dean to stare dubiously at the only remaining bed.

"I'll just take the couch." Dean said, noticing how uncomfortable you seemed to be.

"No its alright." You stuttered, not wanting his big body to be on the cramped sofa, especially when he had a big job ahead of him. "We can share. We share a bed at the bunker."

Dean seemed surprised at your acceptance, still holding onto his forgotten duffle bag. "Are you sure? Especially after what happened last night, I thought you..." He started, but you wouldn't let him finish.

"Dean it's alright. Am I saying what happened last night was okay? No I'm not. But I know it was because of the mark, and besides, Sam will be in the same room. I'm safe." You replied, giving him a reassuring smile, which you meant for yourself as well.

Dean gave you a minute to change your mind, before throwing his duffle on the bed beside yours, just as Sam came out of the bathroom. He looked between you and Dean, before looking at you once again, needing your approval that this was okay. You slightly nodded, letting him know that you were okay with everything.

Sam moved to the small table, pulling out his laptop and getting down to work. Dean started fidgeting with his guns, a sure sign that he was a little nervous about his upcoming job. Split between comforting him, and helping Sam, you decided research was the more important thing to work on. The faster you could find Abaddon, the faster Dean could get this overwith.

Sitting next to Sam, you went over Castiel's notes, while Sam looked for obvious Demon activity. It was then you noticed a clue. "Sam, I think I know where she is!" You exclaimed.

Both Sam and Dean stood up, anxious to hear your news, both wearing a mixture of nervous excitement on their face. "Where?" They asked simultaneously.

You held up Castiel's note, waving it in front of their faces. "It's all here, Demon omens, people dead, it's a circle around one main area, and I bet that's where she's staying."

"And, where's that area?" Dean asked, uncontrollably rubbing the mark that was half hidden by his rolled up shirt sleeves.

"There is an old house smack dab in the middle of everything. That has to be it!" You said, excited and proud at your discovery.

Dean clasped his hands together in excitement, while Sam stood there, running his hands through his hair in thought. "We need to figure a way in. She probably has sentries, and will zap out before we can even get close."

"I don't think there's that many, not by what Cas wrote." You replied, looking at the chicken scratch on the paper to double check.

"So we go in tonight." Sam said.

"Sounds good." Both you and Dean replied at the same time, you settling on the bed to relax for a couple of hours until it was time to move.

Dean paced around the room for a while, picking up his gun and randomly setting it down again, never quite able to focus on something for a long period of time. It was understandable, he had a big job tonight, and the mark was probably already feeling his anxious excitement.

"I'm going to go get grub. You want anything?" He asked out of the blue, surprising you and Sam. Giving him your order, you watched him leave, an uneasy feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

"Sam, what if we don't kill her?" You questioned, curious. Sam looked up from his laptop, a gentle smile on his face.

"She will be dead by the end of the night. It means too much, to us, to the world, especially Dean. It's killing him that he can't be trusted around you, and he needs this done so he can be with you again."

You didn't reply, no reply was necessary, Sam knew your feelings on that matter. Instead you relaxed, knowing Dean would be back soon.

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself nodding off, the tv turned to a boring sitcom that you paid no attention to. "Sam?" You said your voice groggy.

"Hmm." He replied, still glued to his laptop.

"Shouldn't Dean have been back by now?" You asked, sitting up and looking at the alarm clock next to the bed.

Sam glanced up, and followed your gaze to the clock, cussing when he realized how late it had gotten.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed, standing up fast, almost knocking the chair down in his haste.

"What?" You asked, already thinking you knew the answer, a horrible feeling in your stomach.

"He's gone without us. Dean's gone to kill Abbadon!" Sam answered, tugging on his coat, you quickly following suit.