Not Until We Are Lost

It wasn't that Phaedra did not care that Mary was missing. She did. And, away from the Winchesters and their team, was doing her own poking around for information. She simply did not wish to be near so many hunters at once, some of whom didn't know her. And really, she worked better alone. She pretty much always had, unless you were Harry Dresden.

Had Dean, or Jo, or Cas... or any of them who knew her asked for her help, she'd have given it. But no one had. Despite how useful she could be. She could isolate the thoughts of a single mind.

She could hear the killer. Or Mary.

More and more since leaving York, Phaedra felt like an outsider. In this world she had to be extra careful not to smile too wide, not to move too quickly... and it was exhausting.

That was why this evening, she was sitting outside in a city garden. With a book. It was easier not to be exhausted by trying to fit in when you were alone.