Dean hadn't moved a muscle outside his mouth since she seared her gaze into him, just hoping silently that his plea had gotten through that murderous look in her eye into something that mattered. Judging by the fact that she didn't throw anything, it must have worked.
At the price of another word onslaught, the end of which cut him like a knife. For a split second, he worried that the spirit's frolic through her memory was going to open up some window that she was going to be able to see through once he got that creep out of her.
All thoughts of which immediately bulldozed by the very real notion that she could die.
"Where? Huh? Where is he? Taking somebody else's body for a joy ride?" His words were hesitant, but not quite as gentle as they were a moment ago. They were shaken. Autopilot had suddenly gone out of commission. "Tell me where to find him and I promise you, he'll get what's coming to him."