Maria Hill rushed over to her boss, helping him sit up. Fury shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. (They were nightmare laced cobwebs, but you'd never know it to look at his expression, since 'angry' was kind of his default expression.)

"Agent, report," Fury ordered.

"You and the Avengers were all under the influence of some sort of psychic attack," Maria reported dutifully. "Dr. Strange and his associate were called, but fell into the same trap. Following Agent Coulson's recommendation, I contacted Sam and Dean for help."

The full weight of the Avenger's attentions landed on the pair of Hunters. It didn't take long for most of them developed this odd look, like there was something niggling in the back of their heads but they didn't quite know why.

Sam and Dean lifted their chins and held under the scrutiny. They'd faced down the scariest monsters hatred before, they could hold up under the Avenger's regard.

Sam Wilson was the first to recover. "Hey hey! I thought you got spooked around feds. Aren't you scared we're gonna flashy-thing you after all this?"

Dean looked over and laughed. "Hey, Chicken Wings! How's the pride?"

"Recovering. Still recovering," Wilson admitted. "And the 'Chicken Wings' commentary isn't helping."

"Yeah, well," Dean actually looked a little sheepish. "I woulda come up with something better if I knew you were a freaking Avenger, man."

"Great, so from now on its 'Falcon.' Okay?"

Sam Winchester elbowed his brother. "If you're too shy to ask them for autographs, I can do it for you. I know you've got your Avengers T-shirt on under the flannel."

Dean slugged his brother in the arm and hissed, "Dude! Can it!"

"Pow, right in the kisser," Steve Rodgers repeated the old line, remembering a lecture on handling motorcycle clubs and especially the painful punch to the arm to emphasize the point. That guy's punch. "We have met. You stopped the bar brawl by holding a motorcycle hostage."

Dark blonde eyebrows scrunched as their owner dredged up an old memory. "Wait, that was you? But that guy was a dweeb, a fun dweeb, but still..."

Sam Wilson snickered.

Steve didn't pout, that would be dweebish. Here he was, a hundred pounds of muscle heavier and had saved the planet, and he was still a dweeb? Bucky would be laughing his head off if he were here.

Oblivious to Steve's thoughts, Dean continued, "Okay, a dweeb that held his own against a ton of bikers. That should have been a tip off. Sammy! I saved Captain America's ass in a barfight!" The shit-eating grin was huge.

Sam knew it wouldn't come off for days. His rubbed his head to stave off the impending migraine. "Let me guess, the waitress was hot?"

The happy grin morphed into something a little more carnal.

It was that second grin that finally tipped the balance in Natalie's own memory, which had been itching since she woke up. "A monster hunter, that would explain the skill set," she muttered. Louder, she admitted, "We've met as well. Twice, actually... well, once and a half."

"Once and a half?" Stark demanded. "How does that work?"

Natalie caught Clint's eye. "I figure hauling you back to a safe house while you're unconscious only counts as half."

Clint's brow creased then cleared as his brain kicked out the scene. In his defense, it had been almost a decade since he last saw the guy.

Meanwhile, Dean had done some remembering of his own. "Kiss Me, Kate!"

Black Widow, international assassin, narrowed her eyes in displeasure. She hated The Taming of the Shrew. In her opinion, the so-called shrew didn't need taming; she needed weaponry.

Dean pointed at Clint. "He dared me to."

Nat turned on her friend slowly.

Clint pointed at Dean. "He said it first."

Before violence could erupt, Tony demanded, "Care to share with the class?"

Nat shrugged. "He helped me out once, I returned the favor a year later."

"Not too long after, I tripped over the kid when I tried to set up a sniper position where he already had," Clint added.

"And I got the drop on you," Dean reminded with a touch of pride. He looked at Sam. "I totally got the drop on Hawkeye!"

Clint glared. "Then I took the shot that saved your dad when you and your antique weren't up to the job."

Dean scowled right back. "I could have made the shot, Double-O Douchebag."

"Whatever you got to tell yourself," Clint needled with a smirk. Fairness made him add, "You were right about the S.H.E.I.L.D badge, though. I made myself fake NSA credentials and people hopped-to a lot faster. To the fake," Clint emphasized. "Who knew."

"Fake ID," Bruce murmured to himself. Then louder said, "Fake ID. You were that guy. You gave me a cup of coffee, a lift, and my first fake ID."

Dean looked blank.

Wryly, Bruce added, "After we got to Kissing."

"Bruce, you dog!" Tony exclaimed. "You never told me you swung that way. I'm hurt, I tell you. Hurt. Did you think anyone here would care? We embrace giant, green Hulks of any personal orientation."

Bruce ignored Tony. So did most of the room.

Dean clapped Banner on the back. "Bruce Springsteen! Damn, you're looking better these days."

"Sprinsteen?" Tony repeated. "You gave him a fake ID claiming to be named 'Bruce Springsteen' and that worked?"

"Quote: 'My parents were huge fans'." Bruce answered dryly, echoing Dean's answer when he asked the same question all that time ago.

Dean shrugged. "People never believe you would try to pull that off as a con. But once, I tried being John Smith, and we ended up washing dishes at a surprising number of mom and pop diners that year until the new set of fake cards came in."

At the words 'mom and pop diner' something clicked in the Directors memory. "We've met as well. Briefly." From the look on the yokel's face, he didn't remember the incident. "You gave me some fashion advice about hats and sunglasses."

Dean continued to look blank then shrugged. "If you say so."

"Fashion advice?!" Tony sputtered. "From the guy dressed like a lumberjack in NYC? That's like... like..."

"Like wearing a suit to a KISS concert?" Dean supplied helpfully. Hopefully. This was one Avenger he knew he'd met before.

"Exactly! Like wearing a suit-" Tony stopped mid rant, brain catching up with his mouth. "That was you."

Dean grinned. "It was a hell of a party."

"You rack-jacked me!" Tony growled in outrage.

Dean's grin widened. "I did, didn't I?"

Tony glowered at him.

"Dude, relax," Dean admonished. "I only did that because she was a succubus. Fifty/fifty she would have eaten you alive. Literally."

That shut Tony up.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dr. Strange held up his hands in a classic sports time-out sign. "Everybody here knows this guy except me and the Asgardian?"

Thor clapped a heavy hand on Dr. Strange's shoulder, causing him to stagger slightly. "I do not know these men personally, but all of Asgard knows of the Brothers Winchester! My father declared a week of celebrations and feasting when these great men stopped the Aesir Ragnorok. You have not seen such a party as the one held on that day! Later, we will all drink and you will tell me how you escaped from the Pit."

"Deal!" Dean exclaimed with a smile.

"So everyone but me and Wong, then." Strange did not let go of his complaint.

"Doctor, still so much to learn. You should know," Wong scoffed. "I showed you their books. All one hundred and fifty of them. On their own shelf in the library."

Strange blinked. "Those trashy, penny-dreadfuls? Half of them are computer printouts that you bound together yourself. I thought you were joking when you told me to read them."

"Do us a favor and don't read them," Sam groaned.

"Actually, do us a favor and burn them," Dean corrected. "In fact, if you want to do a huge favor in return for, you know, saving your lives; burn all of them. Every copy, everywhere. Then delete the rest from the internet. And while you're at it, delete all the fan fiction, too. Can you do that?"