( Was he really surprised that she blamed him for the fact that she was walking around when she was apparently supposed to be dead? Really? The Winchesters were like the posterboys of really freaking stupid decisions relating to people dying. Hadn't Dean sold his damn soul to get Sam back? Not that she thought she'd warranted anything like that. Still...if there was a messed up reason for her being back, it probably involved a Winchester. )

Considering you assholes and your track record, if I have to blame someone for me not being dead, it's gonna be you. Of course, you probably would have included some damn painkillers in the package. ( She winced, wrapping an arm protectively around herself as she spoke. Seriously guys. Would a little morphine be remiss? Hell...some Tylenol? ) Fine. We can get out of the open. But I still want to know what the hell's going on...and what the hell happened to you. You're a mess, Winchester.

( She took the knife from him, rolling up her sleeve and drawing it across her lower arm. It left a thin line of blood behind and she ripped a piece of her already ruined shirt to wrap around it. Pulling some holy water out of her jacket, she splashed herself with it, then raised an eyebrow at Dean.) Satisfied? By the way, I need your shirt.