Happy Fourth of July to all of my American friends and followers! Stay safe out there. If you drive, try not to be out on the streets late and always be aware of your surroundings.  Celebrate safely and wisely but have fun!

"Subtle," Dean commented as the three Hunters approached the door of the shop where the words 'DIE SCUM' were spray painted across the door window and the wall. There was an inverted triangle with a pawprint in the top corner of the 'M', and Libby cocked her head to the side as she studied it.

"Check that out," Sam said, pointing to the symbol. "Huh." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and aimed the camera towards the symbol, snapping a photo of it. As the trio entered the shop, shivers raced down Libby's spine. Stuffed animals and mounted trophy heads littered the room and the walls, all of the dead animals staring back at them.

"Well, the creep factor just skyrocketed," Dean muttered. Libby giggled quietly, catching the slight smile from Dean's lips out of the corner of her eye. The sheriff held up his hands, approaching the Hunters.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sam gave him a curt nod, he, Dean, and Libby pulling out their badges and flashing them to the sheriff.

"How are you? Agents Michaels, Deville, and Wilson," Sam told him. The sheriff nodded, resting his hands on his hips as he glanced over his shoulder.

"The body's already been to the morgue." He nodded towards the man at the counter. "Just wrapping it up with Dave Stephens. He's the one who discovered the body. Such a shame. I used to go hunting with Max. He was a real good egg," the sheriff told them softly so that Dave wouldn't here. Sam lowered his head in sympathy and Dean nodded twice.

"Sorry for your loss."

"Thanks."

"You mind showing our partner around? Agent Wilson and I just got a couple questions for Mr. Stephens," Dean requested. The sheriff nodded and looked to Sam.

"Okay. Come on." Libby watched as Sam followed him into the next room, Libby and Dean approaching Dave Stephens who was resting his arms on the chash register.

"Dave Stephens?" Dean asked. He averted his gaze from the wall to Libby and Dean, nodding.

"Yeah." Libby sent him a sincere smile, taking over from there.

"I just have a couple questions for you if that's all right," she told him sweetly. He nodded and stepped forward.

"I'll tell you whatever you need to know. Max was a... a real pal," Dave replied. Libby nodded and Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Hunting buddy?" Dave eyed him, impressed that he figured it out so easily. But only one glance around the shop told you that they were hunting buddies. It really didn't take that much to figure it out.

"Mm. Yeah." Dean shrugged, smiling proudly.

"Eh, lucky guess. So, uh, about what time did you discover the body?"

"About 9 a.m. – my usual pickup time. I come in every Wednesday and Sundays, uh, to collect the entrails," Dave explained. Libby furrowed her eyebrows.

"The what?"

"The animal organs," he clarified. Libby and Dean nodded, Libby's mouth forming an 'O' shape. Libby wasn't at all fazed by it. She had hunted as a kid in order to get food. But Dean on the other hand seemed a bit grossed out, trying his best not to show it. "After Max would, uh, dig them out and work his magic." Dean nodded, he and Libby glancing over at Sam who held up a Game of Thrones squirrel, which wore a pink dress with a large bow, mocking its facial expression. "He, uh – he was a real artist, you know?" Dean gave Sam a 'what the hell' look and Libby started to giggle, but quickly covered it up with a cough. "Strange thing is, though, uh, bins were empty this morning," Dave continued, Libby and Dean tuning back into his explanation.

"Why is that strange?" Libby questioned.

"Well, because it's a Sunday. Weekend hunts are pretty much a given in this neck of the woods, so they're usually, mm, chock-full of guts." Dean's eye twitched in disgust, forcing a smile on his face.

"Ah. Any chance Max could have cleaned them out himself?" Dave shook his head, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Libby shifted uncomfortably on her feet at the thought of a bin full of animal guts.

"No. It's a – it's a biohazard. You can't just, you know, throw the stuff out. You gotta burn it." Libby nodded slowly.

"Huh. I wish I had known that," Libby muttered to herself. Dean and Dave sent her an odd glance but shook it off as the sheriff entered the room. Dean looked over Dave's shoulder.

"Is there, uh, anything else missing from the shop?" he questioned. The sheriff shook his head.

"No. The register was full, and the safe was intact. And all of Max's trophies were still on the walls," he explained, nodding his head to the animal heads on the walls. Libby glanced around again, cringing as a moose head stared back at her with beady eyes. That was definitely going to be in her nightmares.

"And was there anybody else here when you showed up?" Libby added, averting her gaze to the sheriff to escape the animals' stares. They gave her the major creeps.

"No one. No, other than, uh-" Dave glanced over his shoulder and chuckled, staring at a German Shepherd that a woman was loading into a crate. "The Colonel." Libby felt herself grin at the sight of the dog. He was there because of her. Because she had wanted a friend other than angels and humans. Dean smiled slightly at the dog, his face returning to his business-look as Sam came back in the room.

"Excuse us," Dean said. Libby followed him and Sam a short distance away, Libby glancing at the dog every now and then.

"So?" Sam asked, the three of them turning away from everyone else in the building.

"Okay, so, uh... we got a thief who's jonesing for animal parts, we got a pagan symbol, and we got a human pretzel," Dean replied, thinking it was a witch. Sam nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, it all sounds very witch-y, but I wasn't able to find a hex bag." He sighed, rubbing his chin in thought and nodding.

"Alright, well, let's keep digging." He glanced up at a stuffed owl, the bright yellow eyes staring back at them. "But, uh, not here. I don't like the way that one's looking at me," he told them before walking away. Libby laughed and shook her head, Sam eyeing them warily before following after.

~*~

"Vegan Bakery," Sam said after Libby asked where they were going next. She cringed. "Agreed. All for healthy foods, but I do need dairy and meat every now and then." Libby nodded, then shook her head.

"I think I'll stay back here and do some research," she replied. Sam looked to Dean for his opinion. Dean shrugged and nodded.

"Whatever she wants to do, she can do," he said. Dean looked to Libby and pointed at her. "Stay out of our stuff. I know you're desperate for answers, but there definitely aren't any in our bags." She just rolled her green eyes at him, but nodded. Sam and Dean grabbed their coats. "Call us if you need anything!" Dean called out as they left, the door slamming behind them and locking. Libby sighed and glanced around the room. They had no leads whatsoever, but it was definitely something supernatural. Libby's gaze fell upon Dean's bag where the corner of a book stuck out. A red book. Her book. She smirked and walked over, opening the duffel more and fishing out the large, thick, book. She gained one memory back from it, who was to say that she couldn't get more?

The redhead walked over to one of the beds and flopped down on it, holding the book above her face as her eyes skimmed over the pages. Sam and Dean seemed to be taking longer than they should've been, but she was too engrossed in the book to notice it. She was also too distracted to notice them walk in the motel room. She turned the page, taking in the words hungrily and trying to gain some knowledge on her life. As far as she could tell, it was all dark. It wasn't what she wanted. She just wanted to be good and human. Not an angel and a warrior.

  ~*~ 

"Where'd you get that?" Sam asked at the same time Dean said, "I thought I said stay out of our stuff." Libby gasped and sat up, her eyes widening at the sight of the two Hunters. Dean walked over and snatched the book from her grasp.

"Hey!" Libby objected, watching as he threw it back down in his bag. "Dean, what the hell?"

"I said stay out of my stuff," Dean repeated it, hissing the words this time. Libby narrowed her glare at Dean.

"That could help me get my memories back," she argued, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She went to grab the book when Dean got it first, holding it high above her head. She mentally cursed her short height, jumping desperately for the book. But Dean was too tall.

"I don't think the book would trigger any memories, I think it's key words. Listen, I know you want to remember. I do. I want you to remember, too, but the book just isn't the answer. The only thing it does is make you not want you memories back, Liz-" Libby gasped and she clutched her head as a memory flooded her vision. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. "And I prove my point," he muttered, lowering the book as she sat down on the bed before she could stumble.

"What is it?" Sam asked with worried hazel eyes. Libby cringed, but focused.

"Lucifer," she choked out. Dean and Sam furrowed their eyebrows in confusion. How had she gotten a memory of her father out of that? "H-He shoved me into the Cage."

"What triggered it?" Sam questioned. The pain subsided and Libby looked up, glancing between Sam and Dean.

"The way Dean looked at me. The sympathy and the guilt in his eyes. It's exactly how he saw me before the Cage. It's the look he gave me as Lucifer shoved me in. But there are so many pieces missing. I don't understand..." She trailed off, shaking her head before holding it in her hands. Dean set the book aside and sat down next to her.

"Libby," he said softly. "We're going to figure this out, I promise. You gotta trust us. We always fix our mistakes." She scoffed, wiping a tear away.

"I'm sure that's what one of you told me before I died." Sam raised his eyebrows in shock, Libby's eyes widening. "I-I was just guessing. Did you really-" He nodded. "Oh. Well, I guess it did kind of fix itself."

"As much as I hate to ruin this," Sam told them, "we have a case to work, remember? Something, or someone, is killing people and stealing animal guts, so we kind of have to catch them before they hit somewhere else." Libby nodded and stood up, walking over to Sam's computer. "What are you doing?"

"Research," she told him as if it were obvious, opening up Google Chrome. Sam, smiling slightly, shook his head.

"Uh, no, you're not. That's my job. You and Dean stick to the books."

"But-"

"If you want your memories back then we have to keep everything the same. Sorry, Libs." She frowned but obeyed, stepping away from the computer and laying back on the bed. Dean stared at her with sympathy, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to start another fight between him and Sam.

  ~*~ 

"Necrosis?" Dean questioned as Sam gestured to the screen. He nodded and leaned forward to read the words better.

"Premature death of tissues – that's why their eyes were all messed up," Sam explained, referring to the vegan bakery owners. Dean walked over to Sam, opening a beer. "And it's not caused by mace." Dean leaned forward on the table, glancing at the bathroom door out of the corner of his eyes. Libby had gone in to take a shower, needing something to relieve some stress. Dean suggested a shower, telling her how they always helped her before. So she complied, and man, was Dean right. Libby felt better the moment she turned off the water, grabbing a towel and stepping out of the half-bath.

"Alright. What caused it?" Dean asked, his eyes skimming the screen. Sam pointed to a paragraph on the website.

"Right here. 'Blunt force, radiation, venom.'"

"As in 'snake'?" Dean asked in disbelief. Sam shrugged.

"The taxidermist was constricted. Olivia and Dylan heard hissing, and they were sprayed in the eyes-"

"By venom," Dean finished, walking away. Sam nodded.

"By venom." The door to the bathroom opened then and Libby stepped out, her hair wet and clinging to the back of her neck. She kicked her legs a bit in attempt to stretch out the jeans that gripped her legs. They were a bitch to try and get on since she couldn't dry off completely.

"Okay, so... What are we talking here, some sort of a freaky-ass snake monster?" Dean said as he sat in the chair across from Sam, pulling another up for Libby when she finished getting ready. She sent him a grateful smile as he sipped his beer. Sam scoffed.

"Maybe. The weird thing is snakes either envenomate or constrict. No snake does both," Sam informed his older brother. Dean pulled the bottle from his lips.

"Correction – freaky-ass mega-snake monster." Sam laughed and they heard Libby chuckle as she dug through her bag for her hairbrush. She ran it through her long red hair, walking over to the duo in the process.

"It could be a Vetala," she chimed in, impressing Sam and Dean with her knowledge of the supernatural. Honestly, she didn't know how she knew that. It was just something she pulled out of her ass, probably a fact that was in the back of her mind from research with the Winchesters over the years.

"Yeah, but they're not afraid to sink their fangs in. Taxidermist was bite-free. It doesn't really fit the profile," Dean told her. Libby nodded, frowning slightly.

"Right. So...?" Sam trailed off, fixing the sleeves of his flannel and leaning back in the chair. Dean took a swig on his beer and set it on the table.

"So, call Kevin. Have him look some stuff up." Libby looked to Dean as Sam pulled out his phone and nodded towards the door, gesturing for them to go outside to talk. Dean nodded and got up, following her out as Sam distracted himself with the phone call. "What's up?" Libby scratched the back of her head, glancing around the parking lot to make sure no one was around or listening.

"This is going to sound weird, but are you sure Sam's human?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't-"

"I'm getting some kind of vibe off of him. Like, I can feel other people's energy levels. For example, you have a human energy level because you're, well, human." Dean nodded, not sure where sure where this was going. He didn't think Libby was capable of figuring it out at the moment. He figured she'd be too wrapped up with her missing memories. "He feels like an angel. I know what it feels like to be around angels, Dean. I grew up with them! Hell, I am one! Is there something one of you aren't telling me?" Dean sighed and set his beer down on the windowsill, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Libby mimicked his actions, crossing her arms over her chest.

"After the third Trial, Sam was real bad," he started. Libby nodded. "He never completed it, but he was sick. You told us that if he went through with it then he'd die, so I figured he'd be okay since we stopped. But the moment he let go, he just collapsed in pain. I managed to get him outside as the angels started to fall, but he could barely hold himself up. I took him to the hospital where he fell into a coma. He was gonna die, Libby, so I did what I had to do." Her eyes widened as she pieced it together.

"You let an angel in," she whispered. Dean nodded guiltily. "And he doesn't know, does he? You tricked him, didn't you?" Dean nodded again, staring at the ground in shame. "Well, what's his name? Maybe I know him."

"Ezekiel." Instead of a smile like Dean was hoping for, a frown took over her blood red lips. "You don't look too happy about that." She shook her head, kicking a rock in front of her.

"He was one of the angels that wanted me banished me to Hell. He's actually one of them that helped." Libby looked over at Dean. "He's a good man, but he didn't trust me. If he knows I'm here then we could be in trouble. He's not very fond of me, Dean. Not anymore." Dean nodded and messed with the buttons on his plaid overshirt. Libby could sense the guilt. It seemed to just pour out of him just at the mention of the angel. She let out a sigh. "But you had to save Sam, so I understand." Dean's head snapped up in shock, greeted by a small smile. "I get it. You guys had just lost me, you couldn't lose Sam."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't be alone." Dean's voice started to crack, bringing out a side of him Libby had never seen before. Even when she had her memories, she can't remember a time where she saw Dean cry. After killing Benny, he stayed away for a few hours to regain his composure. He didn't like to show weakness around her and she knew that, memories or not. "Maybe I can talk to him. He won't hurt you. I won't let him."

"I know that, Dean. He couldn't hurt me if he wanted to. He's weak. Very weak. I can sense it. He probably struggles taking on a regular angel, let alone an Archangel. I'm safe, Dean. With you and Sam, I know I'm safe." Dean nodded, glancing up at the sky before laughing. "What?" Libby was genuinely confused. One minute he was about to cry and the next he was laughing. She feared that she would never be able to understand that man that's Dean Winchester.

"You're so...understanding. Forgiving. I don't know how you do it." She shrugged, also looking up at the sky and smiling.

"I just see the best in people. You needed to save your brother and I get that. I'm okay with that. I would've done the same. I still would do the same. I may not know you very well, Dean Winchester, but I do know this: you'd do anything for me. You wanna know what I don't know?"

"What's that?"

"Why. Why you would risk your life for me when I'm not even really family. Even now, you'd still save me if you had to choose between me and yourself. Why is that?" Dean sucked in a sharp breath, looking from the sky to the redhead next to him. Libby met his gaze, furrowing her eyebrows as she waited for an answer. Dean opened his mouth to reply when the door to the motel room opened, Sam staring at them with a worried look.

"Guys, another body just turned up," he announced. Libby and Dean exchanged glances before looking back to Sam.

"Where?" they chorused.

The whole ride to the animal shelter had Libby on edge. Feeling Ezekiel's angelic presence in the Impala with her was a feeling she didn't like. She remembered Ezekiel from her days of training to be a warrior, but it just didn't feel the same. Libby chalked it up to being away from him for so long, but deep down she knew it was more than that. It felt as if something were missing from him, something important. Libby felt the same way, but she figured it was just her memories. If only she knew the truth...

  ~*~ 

"Claw marks?" Dean questioned as he hovered over the kid's body. Sam nodded and the three started to walk away. As Libby passed the dogs, they'd stop barking and stare up at her as if she was the most interesting thing they saw. She would smile at them as she walked by their cages, knowing that they could sense who she was.

"Yeah. The cops said all the cats went missing," Sam replied.

"Right, so, yesterday, uh, we're dealing with some sort of a snake monster. Today, it's a killer kitty." Sam scoffed, shrugging.

"I don't know." Dean stopped in front a cage, eyeing the German Shepherd curiously.

"Hey." Dean held his hand out to keep Sam from walking. "Why does that mutt look familiar?" Sam grabbed the chart clipped to the cage, lifting up a paper. His eyes widened.

"That was the taxidermist's dog," Sam told him. Libby raised an eyebrow.

"So, he's been at both crime scenes?" she asked. Sam nodded once.

"Yeah."

"Maybe he's a suspect. You know may–" Dean stopped as an officer walked by, waiting until he was gone before continuing. "Could be a skinwalker, maybe a shapeshifter," he suggested. Libby tilted her head to the side, crouching down in front of the dog and studied him.

"Doesn't really look like a monster to me," she commented, scratching him behind the ear. He leaned his head into her hand and she smiled. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" she cooed. The dog snarled at her and her eyes widened and she took a step back. "Not you, apparently. You little bitch. Be more grateful," she spat. Sam chuckled, watching her with an amused smile as Dean held up a silver dollar.

"One way to find out." He crouched down in front of the dog.

"Thought you hate dogs," Libby commented, walking over to a labrador. Dean shrugged.

"I do, but this could be our lead." He averted his attention back to the dog. "Come here, boy. Hey. This isn't gonna hurt at all. Unless it hurts." Libby rolled her eyes, but felt a small smile tug at her blood red lips as she scratched the Labrador behind its ear. Dean rubbed the silver dollar behind the German Shepherd's ear, but the dog showed no reaction. "Hmm." Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head.

"I guess we can, uh, rule out killer," Sam said, the dog barking twice. Suddenly the sheriff walked over to them, and the dog kept barking.

"Do you agents need any further assistance?" he asked, removing his hat. The dog stopped barking the moment he took off the hat, and Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She stood up and walked over to them.

"Officer, I think we're okay. Thanks," Sam replied. He nodded, placing the hat back on his head. The dog started to bark again.

"Alright, well, let me know." Libby looked between the dog and the Sheriff, her eyes widening.

"Officer. Excuse me. Uh, can I borrow your hat?" she asked. He took off his hat and handed it to the redhead, not at all fazed by the request. Libby turned to the dog who had stopped barking before placing it on her head. He started in again, this time a low growl hidden in the barks. She took it off and he stopped. Libby gave the hat back to the sheriff who glared at the dog.

"Good luck getting adopted," he hissed at the dog as he left the kennel.

"Okay, so, The Colonel's not a suspect," Sam said, leaning against the cage and pointing to the dog. Libby nodded.

"Yeah, but he's a witness," she replied. Dean looked down at The Colonel.

"Hey, boy. You speak sign language?" he asked, almost excitedly. Libby raised an eyebrow at her partner.

"That's monkeys," she told him. Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Huh?"

"You know what? This is gonna sound crazy," Sam said, digging in his pockets for his phone. "I read this book once about this guy who tried to teach his dog to speak after it witnessed a murder." Dean raised his eyebrows.

"It worked?"

"No."

"But he wrote a book about it?" Libby questioned. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't have what we have." Sam stopped, presumably to speak to the person on the other line. "Kevin. Hey, it's me. How do we speak to a dog?" Libby and Dean exchanged glances before looking back down at The Colonel. He stared back at Libby with big brown eyes that seemed to show respect.

"Why's he looking at you like that?" Dean questioned, diverting his stare from The Colonel to Libby. "Why are all of the dogs looking at you like that?" She chuckled.

"I'm the one who created dogs. They know who I am and have a special connection with me," she explained as she crouched down, holding her hand out to attempt to pet him again.

"Can you speak with them?" Libby shook her head. "But you were able to control Hellhounds during the first Trial. A whole pack was sent after you and you controlled them," Dean replied. Libby glanced up at him in confusion before shaking her head.

"No, no. I can control them, but I can't hold a conversation with them. I'm their overall master. They do as I say." Dean smirked, chuckling.

"I didn't peg you for the kinky type." Libby stopped petting The Colonel and glared up at Dean, Sam sending him a 'what the fuck' look as he stood there listening to what Kevin had to say. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly. "Sorry," he muttered. The Colonel licked Libby's hand and she grinned at him, but frowned when he started to shed on her blazer.

"Okay, that's enough," she told him, pulling her hand from the cage. "I don't need to look like a dog to remind me that I created them."

  ~*~ 

"An Inuit spell," Dean said as he sat across the table from Sam. Sam poured things into a bowl, glancing over at the paper next to him every now and then for reference. Dean glanced over at Libby who laid on one of the beds, The Colonel lying next to her. He cringed. "Aw, come on. That's supposed to be our bed tonight," Dean whined. Libby smirked and shrugged, running her hand down The Colonel's head. He nuzzled his nose to her neck, earning a giggle from Libby.

"Looks like you're taking the couch then," Libby said between laughs as The Colonel stood up, licking her face. She hadn't pegged him as the loving type, but then again this was his creator he was sitting with.

"Yeah. Who knew the, uh, Men of Letters had its own Eskimo section?" Sam said, ignoring the conversation between Libby and Dean.

"And it's supposed to let us communicate with The Colonel?" Dean asked, glancing over at the dog on his bed for the night. Sam got up and plucked a few hairs from The Colonel's coat before walking back over to the table and dropping it in the bowl.

"Yeah, well... that's the plan." He started to stir all of the ingredients in the bowl. "Kevin said it's like a sort of a human-animal mind meld," Sam explained.

"Meaning?" Libby questioned as she scratched The Colonel's chest. He was on his back, legs up in the air like a dead cockroach. Dean smiled at the sight of her having so much fun. It was almost rare to see Libby have a real, genuine smile.

"If it works, we should be able to read The Colonel's thoughts," Sam responded, pouring the contents of the bowl into a glass. It was a gross, muddy-looking, brown liquid. Libby cringed at the sight. Sam rubbed his hands together, ready to grab the glass, when Dean reached over and took it.

"Alright, I'll do it. You – you got enough on your plate," he told him. Sam stared at him in disbelief.

"Like what?" Libby's smile fell when she knew what Dean was talking about. Ezekiel and his healing process with Sam. A spell like this could mess it all up.

"Uh, like... you're tired. You're on the mend. Okay? Plus, you – you've got a sensitive stomach. Last thing we need is you chucking this stuff up. Huh?" Libby rolled her eyes at Dean's bullshit excuses. He couldn't have some up with something better than that? Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Then why can't I do it?" Libby questioned. The brothers both looked over at her with raised eyebrow. "I think it'd be great to communicate with dogs, plus they'd tell me anything I want to know. They love me." Dean rolled his eyes, studying the glass.

"Doesn't look so bad," he commented, ignoring Libby, and drinking the liquid in one gulp. Dean sighed and stared at the bottom of the glass before slamming it down. "I was wrong." Dean held his hand out and wiggled his fingers in a gesture for Sam to hand him the notepad as he coughed. Dean let out a sigh. "Deila hér me. Dag eru nou rar vitur orum." Dean looked over at the dog.

"Alright. Let's get this party started. Tell me everything you know." The Colonel yawned in response, exhausted from playing with Libby for the past hour and a half. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Dean laughed, but Libby and Sam just stared at him. "Tough crowd," Dean grumbled. The Colonel barked and the two Hunters looked to Dean for a response, but he shook his head. He didn't understand what The Colonel had barked.

  ~*~ 

The three Hunters sat at the table next to the window chowing down on takeout, The Colonel staring up at them with pleading eyes. He probably hadn't eaten yet that day. Libby tossed him a fry, watching him chomp down on it. Dean cringed at all of the drool. "So, call Kevin," he started. "Spell tasted like ass and was a bust." Sam wiped his hands on a napkin as Dean pulled the beer bottle from his lips.

"At least it didn't affect your appetite. Geez." Dean nodded in agreement, clutching his stomach and letting out a belch.

"Yeah," Libby agreed.

"Change the station." Both Libby and Dean froze at the unrecognized voice. They exchanged glances before looking down at The Colonel. "Change the station."

"What?" Libby and Dean chorused. Sam looked up, still chewing.

"What?" he questioned.

"You – shut up. It's working!" Dean exclaimed. Libby's eyes widened.

"Then why can I hear him, too?" she yelled out, panicking slightly. "I didn't take that potion crap!" Sam glanced between the two with wide eyes.

"It must be some sort of connection. It – go!" He gestured to the dog frantically as if saying to start talking.

"Say that again," Libby ordered.

"You call this classic rock?" The Colonel's voice scoffed. "Next thing you know, they'll be playing Styx. And Dennis DeYoung? A punk," he told them. Libby had no idea what he was rambling on about, but Dean did. And he was pissed.

"Dennis DeYoung's not a punk. He's Mr. Roboto, bitch," Dean defended. Sam stared at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Why are you arguing with the dog about Styx?" he questioned. Libby waved Dean off and turned around in her chair to look at The Colonel.

"Uh, yeah. Um, hey, boy. What were you trying to tell us about Cowboy Hat?" the redhead asked, leaning down.

"The douchewheel who killed my best friend was wearing a cowboy hat."

"And the pothead, too?" Dean added.

"Yep. Same guy killed both," the dog replied. Libby looked up at Dean. So they were definitely dealing with one weird ass monster.

"Ask about the cats," Sam told them, tossing a food wrapper in the garbage can.

"Yeah, uh –" Dean grunted and reached over, grabbing the wrapper out of the trash and placing it in front of his brother. Libby stared at him weirdly. "And what about the cats?"

"I don't know." Sam held up the food wrapper.

"I don't want this." Dean looked at him, confused, before shaking his head.

"I couldn't see much. I didn't exactly have the best view in the orphanage. Oh, but I could smell him. Guy reeked of red meat, dishwashing detergent and tiger balm," The Colonel explained. Dean stared down at the table in thought as Sam rolled the wrapper up again, tossing it in the trash, except missing this time. Libby eyed it as it bounced off of the edge and onto the ground.

"Huh," Libby mumbled.

"So, what's he saying?" Sam asked.

"Uh, that the – the guy-" Dean bent down again and retrieved the paper ball, rolling it back to Sam. Libby squinted her eyes in confusion, opening her mouth to say something but deciding against it. "-he smelled like ground chuck and soap suds and old-lady cream," Dean finished.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam demanded as he held up the wrapper. Dean started to scratch behind his ear, shrugging.

"I don't know!" The Colonel cocked his head to the side and started to laugh. Libby couldn't help but chuckle as Dean continued to scratch his head. "Oh, what are you two laughing at?"

"Uh-" The Colonel cut himself off when the three of them heard a vehicle pull up outside, a door sliding open. The Colonel and Dean stood up, racing over to the window. Dean parted the curtains to see a mailman exiting the truck. The Colonel barked and Dean started to bang his hand on the window and shout:

"Hey! Hey, hey! Yeah! You! You!" The mailman stopped and looked at Dean before walking away.
"Hey! Hey! Hey, hey, you! You! You! You!" Dean let out a low growl when the mailman disappeared from his line of vision. Libby and Sam exchanged glances, Sam glancing down at the table.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam said.

"Hmm?" Dean hummed, turning away from the window and prancing back over to the table, taking his seat next to Libby.

"I think the spell worked," the redhead told him. "Fact, I think it worked a little too well." Dean scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, scratching his head.

"What?"

"I think... you might be a dog," she clarified. Dean continued to scratch, eyeing her weirdly.

"What?"

"You're scratching your head. You're... barking at the mailman," Sam said as he gestured to Dean's scratching hand and pointing towards the mail truck in the window. "You're playing fetch." Libby picked up the wrapper this time and tossed it in the trash.

"I –" Dean glanced over at the food wrapper and made a move to grab it before stopping and restraining himself from doing so. He looked to Sam and Libby with big puppy-dog eyes and let out a whimpering noise. "Ruh-roh." The brothers looked to Libby who sat there quietly.

"Why aren't you doing any of that?" Sam asked her. She shrugged and glanced down at The Colonel for an explanation. When he just continued to stare at her, she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you want me to tell you?" he asked. Libby rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Yes, that'd be nice."

"You and Dean share a connection. Like the one you and Sam used to share."

"How'd you-"

"I can sense it. Dog's can sense a lot." Her mouth formed an 'O' shape as she nodded. "I also know that you had died. All of us dogs could tell. But when the feeling of your presence came back suddenly a few days ago, we knew you were back." Dean stared at The Colonel, processing everything he had just said twice. But it still didn't make sense. "Your connection with Sam was because you two were soulmates. You have that connection with Dean. Piece it together." Dean and Libby's green eyes widened and they exchanged shocked glances.

"You're saying that we have the connection now?" she asked.

"Mhm," the dog's gruff voice hummed.

"I don't understand. Soulmates don't just change," Dean replied. The Colonel let out a curt laugh.

"Yeah, when you're alive. But Copper Top over here died, remember? She could come back as a different person. Missing memories, missing piece of her soul-" Libby and Dean cut him off.

"I'm sorry, what part of me is missing?" Libby demanded. The Colonel tilted his head to the side. Sam watched in curiosity, wondering what the dog was saying to them.

"You mean you don't know?" Libby shook her head as if it were obvious. "A part of your soul is still in wherever the hell you went. When you came back it didn't feel exactly the same. A part of you felt like it was missing, and it wasn't your memories." Libby held her hand out, stopping him from going any further.

"So, you're telling me that Sam is no longer my soulmate." It wasn't a question. Sam cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

"Libby, if what he's saying what I think he's saying, he may be right," Sam said. Libby furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "When you got back, my attraction to you wasn't as strong. I figured it was because you weren't you without your memories but-"

"But maybe it's because we no longer had that connection," she finished. Sam nodded in confirmation. "So then why the hell would Dean be my soulmate? I understood you. You and Andrew look exactly alike." Sam shrugged, a little heart broken that he'd probably see his older brother with Libby now.

"I don't know. God's Will?" he guessed. Libby just shook her head.

"No, no. God's gone. He made it clear that He wasn't there for us when He left. I-" Libby gasped and her eyes widened. She could see herself meeting Chuck at the hotel where the Supernatural Convention was held. She knew that she couldn't say anything, but she didn't know why. She could remember Chuck asking--no, pleading--her not to say anything.

"Eliza, you can't tell anyone about me. It'd put too many things at risk." She scoffed, staring at him incredulously.

"It's always been all about you, hasn't it? You created a religion--multiple religions--so that people could worship you. You left because you didn't want to guide Humanity anymore, and now you're asking me to keep the fact that you're actually alive a secret." He sent her a pleading look, the one he always used when she was a child and she'd ask about her father. It was the one he gave her when he would beg her to stop asking about Lucifer and just accept the father figures that she had. But it was never enough for her. Libby wanted the truth, and to this day it still hasn't changed.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tell Sam or Dean. Why I shouldn't tell Castiel or any of the other angels." Chuck nodded.

"Honestly? I'd rather you blackmail me than make me come up with some bullshit lie." Elizabeth didn't reply. She just stared at him waiting for an answer. Chuck sucked in a deep breath, nodding. "Okay. I-I'll heal you. I'll make sure that Sam gets out alive and that you walk out of the church right next to him, helping Dean carry him to the Impala. But there will be consequences." Libby didn't let her shock or gratefulness show. It would be giving Chuck what he wanted and she didn't want that.

"Will that be enough?" Libby thought back to the scene at the church as Chuck stared at her, anxious. The anxiety rushed through him, taking over his every fiber like a disease. Libby's gaze fell to the red and black veins on her body as she felt them creep up higher, reaching the back of her neck. She didn't have much time left.

"Fine," she spat. "Save Sam and I and your selfish secret is safe with me."

She gasped for breath as she came back to reality, The Colonel staring at her with worry. "What's going on? Why is she nervous? You reek of fear and guilt," the dog told her and Dean. Dean searched her eyes, but Libby put up a strong enough wall to keep him from figuring anything out.

"What'd you remember?" Dean asked softly, gulping in anticipation. Libby, catching her breath, shook her head.

"Nothing big. Just, uh, an old memory of God. When Metatron and I were writing the Angel Tablet. That's all," she lied smoothly. The Colonel tilted his head to the side as he stared at her. He could sense she was lying. But with the slightest shake of her head and hard glare at the dog, he understood that it was too big for her to share. So he kept her memory a secret. Libby remembered who God was, and he may be the only one to get her her lost memories back.