[There is something distinctly different about the room that used to belong to Dean Winchester. For one thing, it is empty. For another, it is completely spotless. The alcohol stains, burger crumbs, and pie plates have disappeared. Not a strain of classic rock can be heard. The only remaining thing, odd enough, is a spent shotgun shell sitting on
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"Oh.. Dean. Well, hell. Damn it all to..."
She'd known during the first few moments of realization of her soapy time warp that she might have lost people to....well, wherever people went after the mansion was done with them. Sometimes, Anita hated to be right.
With white-knuckled fingers, she plucked the spent shell from the ground, whirled on her heels, and left the room.
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He might be investigating or something, but of course turns up nothing.]
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