Summary: It was Bobby's fault, really. When she called, it was rarely for help like this. The two men, two hunters, currently occupying her porch were definitely not Bobby Singer…whatever came after was definitely not part of the plan. D/OC

AN: The story title and chapter titles are based on much loved Journey songs, for those of you who are classic rock fans like me! Some you may recognize, others you probably won't. But here's the first chapter of DYR, let me know what you thought.

Do You Recall

I: Anytime

It was Bobby's fault, really. When she called, it was rarely for help like this. And when it was, (which was rarer still), he usually came himself. This case in particular was different. It was personal, and he knew that.

"What the hell?"

The two men, two hunters, currently occupying her porch were definitely not Bobby Singer. For one they were massive, taking up the full height and width of the door frame with their jackets and boots and visible layers of plaid.

"Nice to see you too, Lena," said the one she recognized, all leather and that familiar teasing grin. But she could see he was a bit unsure, probably wondering if he was welcome. She got over her surprise and finally smiled.

"Wow, sorry," she said, shaking her head apologetically. He relaxed then.

"It's just…" She never thought she'd see a Winchester again.

"Now that's a warm welcome worth driving through three states for," he smirked, and turned to the tall guy next to him with a shrug. "Guess it ain't worth stickin' around—"

"All right, all right, come 'ere already," she laughed. His smile and flirtatious gait was still charm city as ever, and with her arms around his neck, she marveled that his jacket still smelled vaguely like faded cologne and musty smoke.

"It's good to see you, Dean," she already couldn't peel off her smile. Then she shifted her gaze to the man next to him. "Who's this?"

"You don't remember me, huh?" She focused more on his boyish face, the shaggy brown hair and honest green-blue eyes, and realization hit her with a pang. This was a far cry from the lanky kid she remembered.

"Sam!" she laughed happily and smacked his arm. "Jesus Christ, you got tall."

He practically towered over her, and she liked to think she pulling average height at about five-foot-five. He cracked a smile.

"Or you shrunk," he teased. She rolled her eyes and opened the door wide in invitation.

"Har, har. Come on, you're letting the mosquitoes in."

"Aw thanks, Shortst—" She cut Dean off with a sharp warning look, "Careful, or you'll find your ass back on that curb!"

She turned away from them to walk back inside, but she could hear Dean laughing behind her.

"Aw, come on. You used to love that—"

"No."

Sam sent his brother a questioning look, and Dean's grin promised he would tell him later. Some things didn't change, and he was glad that annoying Elena Hayes with a dumbass nickname was one of those things.

"So Bobby sent you, huh?" They followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed two beers out of the fridge and set them down on the small dining table, gesturing for them to sit.

"He tried to call, but your line was busy," said Sam. "Said to tell you he was in the middle of a hunt that he couldn't leave for another few days. He's getting rid of a vamp nest in Ohio with an old friend."

"And we were a lot closer than he was," Dean added, taking a swig of beer.

And they're the only other hunters Bobby trusted to help me, she mentally finished, which made her feel a little better. Though he could've told her when she called that he'd be sending someone in his stead.

"He did say he was a bit busy, might take him some time to get back to South Dakota," she admitted and grabbed a beer for herself, then turned to Dean as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "How've you been? I haven't heard from you since the last time…I heard about your dad."

The unspoken condolence was left between them, but the brothers took it for what it was. It took Dean a moment to look up from his beer, but when he did, he shrugged in an attempt at casual. But she read the pain mirrored in both of them, in the tenseness of her shoulders, the darkness in their eyes.

"Been fine, Elena," Dean said eventually. "You know how it is."

She did know, but that wasn't really the point.

"You two are hunting together now?" she asked. Dean had told her his brother was at Stanford, getting a degree. Elena never told Dean back then, but she'd been happy for Sam, that he was pursuing what he wanted.

"For a couple years now. But what about you?" Dean asked with a wry smile. "Last time we talked you were out for good."

She could tell this was news to Sam, so she clarified by saying, "I got a real job. I work at the Black Hills Museum of Natural History."

Seeing the look on Dean's face, she added, "It's no carnival, but it pays for cable TV and hot showers."

"What kinda detail's that?" Sam asked, his expression bemused.

"Well, I take care of the artifacts," she shrugged, "make sure they're clean and put in their proper places...oh, and I help do the tours."

"So…you dust off worthless junk," Dead deadpanned. She shot him a glare.

"Priceless junk," she corrected.

Sam's mouth quirked into a half-smile and said, "So if you're out, why are you hunting?"

"I'm not. But my dad still is," she sighed. "He usually checks in once a week to tell me where he is, what he's hunting, asks for help on research, stuff like that. He hasn't called in two and a half weeks."

The brothers glanced at one another knowingly. Elena sighed and went over to a messy work station closer to the living room and brought back a few newspapers she'd been looking through.

"Last time we talked he was in Nevada dealing with a poltergeist. I tried to track that to what he would go for next, and I called Victor Graves, pretty much my dad's only friend. He owns a bar in the town Dad was in."

She knew that Dean had at least heard of Vick. The guy wasn't a hunter, but knew plenty of them and passed information where he could. Even gave them their first drink on the house.

Dean reclined in his chair and took another swig of his beer. "What did ol' Vicky have to say?"

"My dad came in, but only said he was heading toward Utah." Elena sighed and pinched between her eyes. She's poured over this stuff until 3:00 a.m. the previous night, right before passing out on the couch. Her day hadn't started much better: a headache from lack of sleep and she'd run out of coffee, making work drag on far longer than it usually felt. Now at 5:30 in the afternoon, she was in aching need of a shower and something hot to eat.

"Long day?" Sam asked sympathetically. She gave him a dry look on the way to the kitchen drawer where all the takeout menus were.

"You have no idea. Look, I've got a spare room here and an empty couch that's not too bad to sleep on if you guys want to stay. I'm going to order a couple pizzas."

"Well, all right," Dean rubbed his hands together.

Elena dropped the menu on the table when she had the number already plugged into her phone.

"Uh, I didn't say there'd be any for you," she said, and left the two with a smirk on her face.

Dean scoffed and shared an amused look with his brother.

Sam offered a shrug. Staying here sounded better (and freer) than finding cheap motel of the week, and it said something about her trust in Dean that she was offering. He didn't know her as well, and it sounded as if Dean knew her better than he'd let on.

Several hours earlier, Sam finally asked the question that had been bugging him ever since they got the call from their older, surlier friend.

"I didn't know Bobby had a niece," said Sam as Aerosmith's "Livin' on the Edge" played for once at a moderate volume on the stereo.

"Her dad is his brother-in-law. You know her, Sammy," Dean replied, not taking his eyes off the road.

"What? I don't remember…"

"The first time you were about eleven. Maybe twelve. Dad had carted us off to Bobby's for a few days and she was there."

The memory was slowly beginning to surface.

"Oh yeah. I remember you were pissed at Dad for not taking you along. What was it, a wendigo?"

Sam also had the distinct memory of his brother getting his ass beat at poker, repeatedly. And a Lord of the Rings marathon that Dean had refused to be a part of.

"Those movies are for the un-layable, Sam," he intoned. "Which explains why you were obsessed with 'em."

Sam shot him a dry look. "Elena watched them with us."

"She just wanted to shut you up about being bored."

"...Maybe. But could you blame me? Bobby's house wasn't exactly Disney World," said Sam. "Still, that doesn't answer why Bobby seemed to think she'd be happy to hear from you."

It took Dean a moment to answer. Thinking about that time meant thinking about their dad, and how he was. Past tense.

Made him think about how much emptier things seemed right about now.

"Dad and I went on a couple hunts together with her and her dad while you were in college."

Sam waited for him to continue, but when Dean didn't say more, he prodded by asking why.

"The first time, we happened to be working the same case in Montana. A rugaru. When that was over we met in a bar, stayed late at night boozin' and got jumped by a skinwalker with a grudge against hunters," said Dean. "Must've heard we were in the area. There ended up being a pack of them we had to take out, and it took a while to find them again after they scattered that night."

"And after that?" Sam asked.

"Well, Jack. Her dad, he wasn't crazy about his daughter huntin' anyway, if I remember right," Dean explained. "Soon as we caught the skinwalkers they split for home."

Like usual, Sam thought, he had a feeling his brother was downplaying the story. But as far as he could gather, Elena was a friend. Not the same way Cassie had been a friend; he wasn't picking up that kind of vibe.

"So when was the last time you two talked?" he asked. Again, Dean's response was delayed, but eventually he said,

"About a month or two before I came to get you from Stanford." Sam looked over at him in mild surprise.

"That's over two years, Dean."

"I've been busy, Sam," Dean said defensively. His life had been problem after problem since John had disappeared on that hunt. They'd finally ganked the demon their dad had been after for twenty years, but what had it left them with? A dead father and Dean with a year to live.

"Besides, she was doing just fine last time I saw her."

In the end, the Winchester brothers decided to stay the night, with Dean letting his brother take the bed (once he lost at yet another rousing game of Rock, Paper, Scissors). It was around nine when Dean, with good-natured ribbing, took up Elena's rather pointed suggestion of the shower being free. It left her and Sam to pick up after the mess of pizza boxes and paper plates.

"So, I don't know. I gotta ask…why the museum?" Sam said, bringing the cups to the kitchen sink. She raised a brow, but a knowing grin played across her features.

"You mean, how'd I get 'out?' I got tired of my dad snubbing me from the Job," she replied honestly. At his questioning look, she explained, "He never wanted me hunting, just wanted me to know what was out there and how to protect myself…after my mom passed, it was just me and him."

She spent most of high school taking care of herself. She only went because it was a small enough town that everyone knew everyone's business, not to mention everyone at the only police station in Hill City knew her dad, and consequently looked out for her. The only time she'd ever tried cutting class, her dad's patrol buddy Fred had conveniently found her in the local park, literally the only time she had tried smoking. God knows it was the last time for both (being at school was better than being bored and alone at home, and cigarettes were way cooler movies—really, whatever pack her loser friends gave her sucked ass).

Jack would come home for a couple days every other week. She would make him a few good meals before he left again. As a police officer retired early, his pension had scarcely covered the bills back then, but her mother's life insurance covered the rest, along with weekly trips to the grocery store and gas for the beat up Camaro Elena had convinced her dad to keep when he decided to get his truck.

"By senior year I'd already been on hunts, weekends and holidays. I convinced him to take me with him for real," she continued. "He finally caved, only if I could keep up with a few online college classes."

He gave her a surprised look.

"You were able to do both?"

"Not very well," she admitted. "Let's just say I didn't get any Latin on my certificate." It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, honestly, and maybe the only thing in her life she could say she had done. But she kicked her own ass for four years, made sure she finished on time to earn that goddamn piece of paper. One Bachelor of Arts from the University of South Dakota in History, naturally with a focus on Ancient Studies.

"But, as you would imagine, research was handy with the cases."

It wasn't long after that when she accidentally met up with Dean again for the first time in seven years.

"But if you had that going for you, why would you want to continue hunting?" he asked. He'd been there before; she had every right to make a life for herself and get a better paying job, meet someone, do something that made her happy. But Elena seemed pensive, maybe even a bit sad, her gaze on the wood floor.

"Because my dad wouldn't have a Dean watching his back if I really left him on his own," she said. Sam didn't know her father. Jack may have wanted better for her, but not enough to quit hunting.

Sam noticed the look on her face, understood it better than she might've thought.

"My brother said the two of you went on a couple of hunts with our dads," he offered instead. Her mouth twitched into a small grin. She embraced the change of subject easily, gratefully even as she shot him a knowing glance. Sam was a perceptive guy, she had to give him that.

Both had long been done with the dishes. She fished out two bottles of water from the fridge, and he took the one she offered him with a nod of thanks.

"That's right." She leaned towards him conspiringly. "Now, what I'm about to tell you better not leave this room, 'cause I've taken great pains to make sure your brother never gets his ego fed from me…"

Sam played along, leaning in with a bemused smile.

Then she stage whispered, "He's actually a hell of a lot smarter than he looks."

"Damn straight."

Dean's loud voice made the two of them jump, and Elena fixed him with a glare as he strode past her to raid her fridge for another beer.

"Hey! You already got your courtesy beer. Does this look like a bar to you?" He popped the cap open and gave her a cheeky smirk.

"If it were, this wouldn't be free."

She rolled her eyes. "You haven't changed much, have you?"

But she could see that he had. There was an edge in his eyes and a heaviness set on his shoulders that he hadn't had two years ago. Something had happened, more than just losing his father. But then again, it wasn't really any of her business.

"You love it." He took a long sip of beer, exaggerating his enjoyment.

"Like I love a canker sore." Dean gestured at her with the half-finished bottle in his hand.

"That's disgusting."

"So are you," she pointed over to the open duffle bag on her couch. "With your bag of hazardous waste eating through my cushions. Throw those clothes in the washing machine."

"Yes, mom," he mocked, but his smirk betrayed him as he went over to the duffle bag.

"How long did you say you two were on the skinwalker hunt?" Sam asked, enjoying the entertainment while it lasted. Before they had to get serious about the reason why they were there.

"Three weeks or so. They kept moving just when we'd caught their trail," Elena said.

"Took us what, two states to gank 'em?" said Dean from the other room. "Tricky bastards."

He came back with an armload of laundry.

"So I'm well acquainted with the sight of that," she said, pointing to the wound up ball of clothes. "I'll show you where the laundry room is. Feel free to shower and change too, Sam. You can bring your clothes down when you're done."

"Sounds good, thanks," Sam agreed, and grabbed his backpack from the floor beside the sofa and followed them toward the back of the house, veering left into the guest bathroom. It was nice not to have to spend hours (and all his damn quarters) at a laundry mat, and be in an actual house, not just for investigating.

Elena led Dean to the farthest door at the end of the narrow hallway and into a small room that functioned as both a linen closet and a laundry room. They dumped his clothes into the washer and she made a small show of pouring in a double dose of detergent before starting up the machine. Dean shook his head at her.

"You're so full of shit! It's not that bad," he dismissed.

"More like your nose is desensitized," she muttered and closed the lid, then went over to the closet and pulled out two sets of fresh sheets.

"It's all right, Sam and I can make our own beds." Dean tried grabbing for them, but Elena evaded his reach.

"No matter how obnoxious, you two are my guests," she said, then amended, "well, Sam's okay."

They went over to the guestroom and Dean helped her strip the bed of the old sheets and put on the new ones.

"Yeah? Wait until you're stuck in the same car with him for twelve hours after Taco Night," Dean countered.

"What's so bad about tacos?"

"Bean burritos," he corrected her, nearly shuddering at the memory of the after-smell Sam left in the Impala after Taco Thursday (it used to be Taco Tuesday, but they moved it to Thursdays). "And you think my clothes are toxic."

She restrained a laugh at Sam's expense.

"Listen…I know Bobby asked you to come down here, but you didn't have to. So thanks," she said. "I know it's been a while and you probably have other problems to deal with."

Dean paused from fitting a pillow case and stopped her with a look more serious than he'd been all night. She was right. He did have other problems to work out. His demon deal being one and Bela stealing the Colt being another. Not to mention Lilith doing God knows what after the stint she pulled in Colorado. But there was a time when the girl…the woman fluffing pillows in front of him had his back, and trusted him to do the same.

"I didn't come just because Bobby asked me to," he said bluntly. "You need help, so I'm here."

After a moment she broke into a smile, ruefully shaking her head. He really hadn't changed all that much.

"Thanks, Dean."

He cracked a small smile too.

"Anytime."