She meets his rage head-on, gaze sharp and level, but it's not Dean or Sam she's seeing as she looks at them.

It's Waverly. It's Willa. "No," she says, flat as a whip crack. "But I can guess."

It's the thing she and Sam hadn't talked about, right? The other end of the deal. Dean's deal gets broken, Sam gets taken away again. And that would have been on her. Hell, Sam had even said it.

I live. Dean lives. She lives. You live.

"He asked for help. I gave it."