After her fourth cup of coffee of the day, Rae wanted to scream at the numerous piles of books all around her. It was almost as if they were starting to close in on her space, mocking her, suffocating her. She felt as if each page was screaming at her, telling her she was failing. This case had been going on for weeks and no matter what text she flipped through she couldn't find any answers.

She'd been hunting long enough to know that a case dragging on this long wasn't a good sign. Deaths were piling up, her clients wanted answers, and she couldn't provide any. Every time she'd gotten close to whatever was causing all this chaos it felt as though history rewrote itself. She felt disoriented and almost as though she was in some sort of loop. It was awful and after her fifth cup of coffee she looked down at her phone.

There was one number she'd never had to call, and honestly she'd been proud of that. She was proud of how good she had become at hunting. She'd never needed help and she wasn't good at asking for it. With a deep breath, the brunette picked up the phone and pressed call on a contact she though she'd never need to use.

Dean Winchester.

And as the phone range, she half-hoped he wouldn't pick up, even though she desperately needed him to.