AN: In answer to the Guest review, I'm glad you're liking where things are going! It was fun to write about that particular episode. Thanks for your feedback. I appreciate everyone who gave it!

Hopefully you all will like this one too. There's a bit of back story included that you might like, a little of Bobby's sass and general longsuffering, plus some tension between the three hunters.

Do You Recall

"See the line of sight inside your mind,
But from where I don't know
And the tales that are left behind,
Left for all to grow."

– Journey, "Precious Time"

VI: People and Places

Elena watched from her window as they passed the Wisconsin state line. They crossed Illinois after one motel stop and pancakes in the morning, followed by a few burritos in the evening. They rolled the windows down through Indiana farmland.

There wasn't much she remembered while dozing in the backseat. It was a blur of buildings and rivers and natural beauty, and then came the plains and lowlands of Ohio.

The ride was quiet. Sam was still frustrated with Dean for his lack of hope where finding a way out of his demon deal was concerned, even though for nearly the past month they'd checked lead after lead, stayed up consecutive nights tearing through books and online databases, asked every hunter Bobby knew. With a little over a month left, Dean just wanted to do what he'd spent his entire life doing until his time was up.

It wasn't long before they were passing expanses of trees and the smaller redbrick houses and shops of Milan. The streets were lively; people walking their dogs and mowing lawns and doing their Saturday shopping. Quaint and colonial, the little town marked the farthest Elena had ever been from home. When she said as much as they checked into the closest motel, Sam looked over his backpack laden shoulder at her.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Illinois had been the farthest east," she said. Dean glanced back at her as he jingled the room key into the lock.

"I thought you told me you'd been to Vegas."

"When did I tell you that?" They walked into their room of two queen beds plus a couch. She saw it wasn't as horrendously decorated as previous ones they'd stayed in the past few weeks.

"The first time, at Bobby's," he said, tossing his heavy duffel on the bed to the left.

"Dean, that was over ten years ago," Elena said dryly. She plopped on the couch and immediately kicked off her boots. "How the hell am I supposed to remember that?"

"Well, were you lying, then?" he shot back with a teasing grin. "Trying to be cool saying you played the slots underage?"

"Of course not." She crossed her arms, but there was a telling shift in her eyes. Sam shook his head with a reserved smile.

"Trying to impress us?" he asked. Elena didn't answer right away, and Sam could've sword he saw her blushing. Dean's chuckle told him his brother saw it too.

"Dean was already hunting by then, and he's only two years older than me," she defended herself. That was intimidating enough for her, having only known about the supernatural for a few years by that point. "And two boys. I was awkward enough at fourteen as it was."

Sam and Dean shared knowing looks.

"What? I thought you were cool. My mistake."

Dean looked almost genuinely offended.

"Who regularly beat your ass at poker?" A glance at Sam. "Can't say much for brainiac here, but…"

"Not you, I remember that," she retorted. "As I recall, it was the other way around."

"Hey, whatever gets you through the night," said Dean, his arms spread wide. Then he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a change of clothes. "I call first shower since I went last the last time."

Before either of them could complain, the bathroom door was firmly shut and the showerhead started inside.

"I can take the couch, Lena," said Sam. She kept insisting on the couch if they didn't have to rent two rooms, even though all three of them knew if the beds weren't that comfortable, the couch couldn't be much better.

"Nah, it's okay," Elena waved him off. "I don't mind it."

"…You sure?" Sam said uncertainly. "It can't be that comfortable."

"Really, I can sleep on anything," she assured, which maybe wasn't altogether true, but she felt like she owed them for letting her tag along for this long to try and save Dean. Even if the thing did feel solid as a rock, in the past few weeks she'd gotten used to running on a mere couple hours of sleep. Anyways, it was nice of Sam to offer.

Always a gentleman, she thought, smiling at him. After a month, she felt like she'd gotten to know the younger Winchester better. They had a fair share in common as far as taste in books went, and while on cases, they bonded over knowledge of ancient history and mythology. Those topics were her main focus while in college. Sam had just picked it up over years of doing most of the extensive research, both when he'd been hunting with his father and brother and while studying at Stanford. He related some of his experiences from his "college years" to Elena, who hadn't really had the university experience while doing her classes online.

"Well, you get second shower then," Sam compromised, but with a look that warned her of trying to refuse. She chuckled and nodded. He was the type to smile and be just as serious.

"Thanks, I'm about ready to drop. And I wasn't even driving."

"And you won't be any time soon," called Dean behind the closed door. Sam and Elena looked to one another with identical amused grins. Sam went over to the old jeans strewn on Dean's bed and found the keys to the Impala. He nodded over at her and threw the keys over. She caught them and started rattling them, so Dean could hear.

"I think Sam and I might just go for a joyride," she teased. "Donuts in the parking lot…"

It was amazing how fast the bathroom door opened. Steam poured out as Dean came stumbling out, shirt half over his head (though his jeans, fortunately for him, were on). Elena laughed at the bit of panic in his eyes, and the way he tried to cover it up. She tossed him the keys and he caught them with the hand that was already through one of the sleeves. He gave her an annoyed look, and as usual, she feigned innocence.

"Hey Dean?" she said. She could feel her face getting hot at she tried to keep her eyes on his face and not the expanse of glistening chest and…certainly not below the belt (but it was getting real difficult).

"Yeah?" he said, a little gruffly as he fixed his shirt.

"Might wanna keep the eggs in the basket."

His eyes snapped up to hers, and she gestured downward. He looked down and swore.

Sam chortled louder than he probably should have as Dean zipped up his fly, and that earned him a pillow to the face.

"All right, all right. Last call for showers before I turn the lights off," Dean grouched.

"What are we, five?" Elena whined mockingly. "I wanted to stay up and play Truth or Dare."

"Yeah, great, we'll have a fucking slumber party." Well used to his sarcasm by now, Elena smiled.

"I have nail polish and everything."

He scoffed.

"Don't hold your breath."

He then threw his dirty clothes back in his bag and threw that on the floor, pulling back the covers.

"You're sleeping in jeans?" Sam asked. Again, Dean looked down at himself, and almost sighed. He ignored the other two sniggering as he went back into the bathroom with a pair of sweatpants.

Then…

In short, Dean was pissed.

He was the one who found the monster; he had every right to help his dad hunt it down.

"Have you ever seen a wendigo?" John asked. Dean pursed his lips.

"…No, sir."

"That's because they're too fast to be seen, even in the daylight. They've killed seasoned hunters. Easy." John packed the rest of his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Dean had only really been actively hunting for two years. "Both of you are staying at Bobby's for a couple weeks or so. This thing's over in Oregon."

He didn't have to tell Dean that. He was the one who did the research; he knew. He wanted to raise the point that John would be going by himself with no one to have his back. But God forbid the man think Dean was giving back talk to a direct order.

So the teenager silently simmered the whole ride over to Sioux Falls. Sam was okay with it more or less, he just didn't want to be stuck without anything to do for what was probably going to be more than a couple weeks. John wasn't exactly reliable. So the youngest Winchester kept his nose in one of his comics, one he'd read a thousand times and still wasn't tired of it.

But when the Impala pulled into Singer Salvage Yard, Dean noticed an old blue Camaro parked by the front door in serious need of a tune up. A good wash and wax, some new tires and a paint job for starters. If he were to guess, it had to be an 80s model. It hadn't been kept in very good condition, but it was a Chevy. There was potential.

John walked past it without glancing at it once his sons were heading up the porch steps. With a few knocks, Bobby let them in and offered John a beer. After greeting the older hunter, Sam and Dean headed for the couch in the living room. Both were stopped at seeing there was someone already occupying it, sitting on the cushions while reading a book. It was a girl, and she looked like she was trying to concentrate.

"Uh…" said Dean, a little awkwardly while still holding his duffel. She looked up and blinked light grey eyes at him. They were wide and surprised as they took in the two boys staring at her.

"Oh…"

"Who are you?" Sam asked, finally letting his comic fall to his side.

"You're not the only guests I've got, boys," Bobby's voice said from behind them. Dean looked up at him in confusion. "Never thought I'd be a damn babysitter."

The last part was mumbled, but even John looked a little surprised. It was hard to do that kind of thing.

"Who's this, Bobby?"

"This here's Elena…my niece," said Bobby, who gave John a meaningful look. "Her dad's a hunter, asked me to watch her for a few days. Lena, this is John Winchester and his boys, Sam and Dean."

Elena reluctantly got up and greeted them all with a shy, "hi."

"Who's your dad? Maybe I know 'im," said John. His voice was deep and gruff, and may have been off-putting if she hadn't been used to Bobby already.

"Jack Hayes," she said quietly, and John's eyes dimmed with in understanding. He'd never met the man, but he'd heard of him through a mutual acquaintance, Vick Graves. Everyone had a story of how they started as a hunter, and Hayes was no different. It just happened to be the same as Bobby Singer's. The only reason John knew was after almost an entire night of whiskey at a seedy dive, Bobby had been drunk enough to let it slip. They'd never talked about it again after that night.

"I've heard of him. He's good," said John. What he didn't know was why his daughter was here when she could be at home. From what he'd known, the man still had a wife (and a kid, he supposed), rare as that was.

Elena nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with talking to the hunter. Which he guessed was understandable, considering she probably thought she'd be alone here with her uncle, not talking to three strangers.

"Well, I should be going," he said, and looked down at his sons. Well, not so much looking down at Dean. The boy was gaining height quick, only a few inches shorter than him. It was Sam that still had yet to go through a growth spurt at twelve years old. "Don't give Bobby trouble."

"Yes, sir," Dean said for both of them, though he obviously wasn't happy about it. John knew it couldn't be helped though, this was just one of those cases where it was better to be on the safe side. He walked with Bobby to the door. The two talked for a moment before John walked through the door. What about, Dean didn't know. He couldn't hear or concentrate while Sam asked the girl what she was reading. Her reserved body language said she didn't really want to talk, but she showed him the front cover. Dean saw it and almost rolled his eyes at the title.

"Ooh, Stephen King is great," said Sam, interest lighting his eyes. So much so that he set down his comic next to him on the couch and sat down. "I haven't read that one though."

"Cycle of the Werewolf?" Dean read dubiously. "Bet that isn't even remotely accurate."

Those kinds of books never were—all usually full of holes and exaggerated lore.

"Actually, how he describes lunar cycle is pretty on point," she said, her voice clearer and stronger than when she first (sort of) introduced herself. Dean got the feeling she wasn't normally shy. "And the guy uses silver bullets to kill it."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked with a playful (and maybe a little flirtatious) smile. Bobby's place was the last one he'd expect to meet a girl, even if she was his niece. But she was…kinda cute. Young, maybe a little older than Sam. But she had a pretty face, and she was wearing an ACDC shirt. Her taste in music's on point, at least.

He crossed his arms at her matter-of-fact tone though. She looked up at him, and despite her bland expression, he caught the hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Yeah." She closed the nearly finished book and laid it casually on her lap. "I liked It better though."

Sam's eyes widened in horror, and Dean laughed because he actually remembered the movie.

"The clown one, right?" he said through a chuckle. She nodded, but gave Sam a curious look.

"Don't mind him. Let's just say Pennywise is his phobia," Dean smirked, and Sam glared at him.

"It's your fault, you jerk!" Sam groused.

"How's it my fault?" The younger Winchester gave his brother a look that said he knew very well how.

"You left me alone at that stupid place for hours. They were everywhere!"

"Aw, Sammy, I said I was sorry, didn't I?" said Dean, though his grin was anything but apologetic. Sam wasn't amused. Despite what he thought, Dean had been across the street getting what he could for the week as far as food.

Not that a kid going into the store and buying cereal and canned food didn't look strange enough, but to take his little brother in there with him? That would've gotten them sent to the manager by some overly caring mother who had nothing better to do with her time.

"I was four."

"Where did he leave you?" Elena asked, for the first time looking genuinely curious (and a little bit pitying). When Sam didn't answer right away, Dean answered for him.

"Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie." Elena's brows rose, the corner of her mouth lifting as Dean was sure she saw the resemblance in the names.

"I try to forget," Sam deadpanned.

"I never liked that place either," she sympathized. "Smells like feet and old popcorn."

"Got a point there," Dean chuckled, while Sam nodded in agreement. There was a short stretch of silence in which all three of them didn't really know what to say. Elena toyed with the corner of the book cover while Sam picked at a small stain on his shirt.

Dean drummed his fingers on his thigh and said, "Well, I'm bored."

"Shocker," Sam quipped, rolling his eyes. He would be fine reading his comic for another hour, and one thing Bobby did have in abundance was reading material.

"I've got cards in my backpack," Elena offered. Dean shrugged.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked down at the Superman edition in his hands.

I already know how it ends, he supposed.

"All right, fine." Dean nodded and looked over at Elena with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Just so you know, I'm not showing mercy," he said, and smirked, "just 'cause you're a girl."

She didn't blush, like he was expecting her to. Again, he saw that subtle shift in her expression: veiled amusement and a tug at the corners of her mouth that suggested she would have smiled. But there was something else about her, something weird.

"Sure."

Now…

She woke with a start, breathing heavily in the early morning light filtering through the windows.

I'm okay…motel room…not a batcave…okay.

Elena looked over the back of the couch. The boys were still asleep. In an effort to bring her heart rate down, she tried long, easy breaths in through the nose and out the mouth.

Always just a dream.

"I see a child, still clinging to a shadow of a memory. Of a family. But didn't that end a long time ago?"

She could still hear the gunshot ringing in her ears. In her head. It always did. Now there were more, the ones she made herself.

Angry tears welled in her eyes; she scrubbed at them fiercely and drew her knees to her chest.

Elena smothered a shuddering breath, letting the tears fall and dry on her shirt.

"You already feel like an orphan."

She went out before she lost it, came back with donuts from a bakery just across the street. The smell woke Dean up, and Sam woke from the pillow thrown at his head. But breakfast and coffee and the brothers arguing over sugar packets was all Elena needed to put the nighttime behind her.

"So the supposed suicide," Dean said around a powdered jelly, "We going as FBI?"

"Think police detectives will do for this one," said Sam, who took a sip of coffee while rereading the local news article Bobby had sent him online.

"Means you need a monkey suit," Dean said to Elena, who pursed her lips.

"I didn't bring—"

"I know, that's why we've got some shopping to do."

Then…

"Never have I ever…driven a car."

Both Elena and Dean sighed, each curling one finger towards their palms.

"Damn it, I've only got one hand left," Dean grumbled.

"We've only been playing ten minutes," Elena pointed out. She still had eight fingers left. He shrugged.

"Not my fault both of you are pansies."

"Hey!" Sam protested, and Elena managed to punch him lightly on the arm. Well, she thought it was light.

He grunted and rubbed his arm, shooting her a glare that wasn't altogether playful. It teased a smile to her lips.

"Okay. Never have I ever…gone on a cross-country road trip," said Elena. The brothers shot one another identical looks and bent another finger down. That put Dean almost out of the game with four fingers left. Sam had six.

"You guys have been everywhere, haven't you?" Elena asked. It was the fifth day since they came, and they told her of how their dad had brought them along from hunt to hunt since they were little.

"Maybe not everywhere," Dean allowed. "But a hell of a lot."

"What's been your favorite place?" she asked.

"Well…California was pretty cool," said Sam. He liked the beaches, and the parks, and all the things to see there. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, Vegas was awesome," he smiled at the memory. John had let him come with him to one of the casinos, and Dean, mature in appearance at sixteen, looked just old enough to pass for twenty one (after letting his face go unshaven for a few days). "You ever been?"

She blinked at the question. Already she looked like a stick in the mud that hadn't done anything exciting, ever. Not that she wanted to impress these guys, these hunter's kids.

"Uh…yeeeah," she found herself saying. "Yeah. Was great."

Dean looked at her with a certain kind of smile, like he was already calling her bluff.

"Really now?" he asked. "What'd you like about it?"

"Um…well, the casinos. For sure," she nodded. He raised a brow.

"Casinos, huh? They think you were old enough to be out on the floor?"

"Well, my dad snuck me in once," she added, grinning at how well she was spinning this. "And uh, we did the slot machine for um, like an hour."

He chuckled, admiring her smile if not her awful lying. He hadn't seen her smile much, but it was nice. Now that he knew her a little better, he didn't mind her company, even though she was two years younger than him (too young for him though, he decided—he was already getting with the 18+ range, why stop a good streak?). But she had decent taste in movie; they'd watched both Terminator movies and The Matrix, and she'd preferred them over Sixteen Candles. And in music, she liked the classics. Journey being her favorite.

Plus, she watched a whole Lord of the Rings marathon with Sam so Dean wouldn't have to, letting him help Bobby out with some of the cars. As far as he was concerned, she was all right.

Now…

Elena adjusted her blouse for the umpteenth time. It kept riding up in the front. Meanwhile, her black slacks were sticking to her legs and giving her heat stroke.

"Stop fidgeting with the buttons. You're a detective, not a hooker," Dean whispered in her ear as Sam knocked on the door. She glanced behind her over her shoulder and glared at him.

"This top is too fucking tight." She'd told him she needed a bigger size, but there hadn't been any more and they'd been pressed for time.

"Too late now, deal with it."

She huffed out a breath.

"Typical."

Talking to the widow was more informative than they'd originally thought. Mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night by an unknown, strange number, possibly a woman named Linda, before a guy shot himself was reasonably high on the Richter scale of weird.

They got back to the motel and checked it out, and according to Dean, not only was Linda Bateman a "babe," but she was also Ben Waters' first wife who died in a car wreck that he lived through. That constituted angry spirit behavior. The really weird thing, though? Linda was cremated.

"What about that caller ID?" Dean asked.

"Turns out it's a phone number," said Sam, surprising both Dean and Elena.

"That's no phone number I've ever seen."

"Yeah, that's because it's about a century old. From back when phones had cranks."

"So why use that number to reach out and touch someone?"

"You got me there too," Sam allowed. "But we should still try and run a trace on it."

"How the hell are we going to do that?" asked Elena. "The number's over a hundred years old."

"Because this time," Sam said with a grin, "We go FBI."

Then…

Elena was comfortable, but bored. This was the eighth book she'd read in its entirety since she'd arrived at Bobby's almost a week ago, and if she stared at another page her eyeballs were going to dry out. The house was quiet with the boys outside, Dean helping Bobby make repairs on an engine that a neighbor wanted fixed by that afternoon. Elena remembered Sam having walked out with a soccer ball…but it was summer, and South Dakota scorching.

Still, she could stay inside, feeling like a lump on the couch and watch TV, or she could get some fresh air, maybe take a walk. She should do some of those things, she decided, normal things…

After changing into some athletic shorts and a tank top, she threw her hair into a high ponytail and stepped into the yard with the full intention of taking a walk around the neighborhood she hadn't seen for such a long time. It hadn't changed much from when she lived in the area, but it still didn't quite feel like the kind of "home" she was used to. Problem was, she didn't think she would ever get that feeling again.

Elena could hear Bobby giving Dean instructions on how to clean the parts and how to put them in place, and she figured they were farther behind the house.

And then she saw Sam out of the corner of her eye, kicking the soccer ball around the small dirt clearing by himself. He was trying to balance it on his foot, kick it up and bounce it on his head, then land it back on his foot. A couple times he made it half way there, but the ball would bounce too far. She was walking up to him before she realized it.

"Hey…what're you doing?" He looked up with a smile.

"Just trying to this trick…I saw a guy at the park doing this like it was nothing," he said, and attempted it again. The ball bounced off his head, and it stayed near the tip of his shoe.

"Ha! Got it!" he exclaimed in triumph, and she grinned.

"Here, pass it to me," she said, and tried and failed to catch it on her own foot. She had decent balance, just didn't have the skills of a soccer player.

"Hey, you almost had it," Sam encouraged, and she smiled and passed it back to him.

"Try it again!" They passed it back and forth until they were both tired and sweating, but laughing harder as each miss grew worse and worse. Until Sam head butted the ball so hard that it went sailing through the air and into a window in one of the junk cars. The two looked at one another with wide eyes.

"What the hell was that?"

"…I got it, Bobby."

"Uh oh," said Sam.

"What the hell's goin' on over here?" Dean's voice drifted over, and it wasn't long before they saw him coming around the corner, in dirt-stained jeans and a grey tank top and sweating. Elena froze, eyes widening at the sight, tight tank and all. She didn't know if it was the heat or not, but maybe she was blushing.

"You breakin' stuff for no good reason?" he asked.

Again, Sam and Elena looked at each other.

"Run!" he said, and the two bolted. They heard Dean calling after them over the sound of their laughter, and Sam even glanced over his shoulder to wave his clearly pissed off brother goodbye. Even as the salvage yard became a distant thing behind them, they kept running past house after house, only slowing down when they were sure Dean wasn't chasing after them. The two walked past a grocery store and a more residential area until they found a park, large and green with a walkway of people passing by around the trail. In the center was a large pond, where a couple sat closely together on a blanket.

Sam and Elena crossed the street and stopped just within the grassy field. Elena breathed in the fresh air, even though her heart was pounding and both of them were still panting for breath.

"It's nice here," Sam commented.

"Think so, huh?" The two felt a heavy hand on their shoulders and both jumped with a gasp.

"Dean!" Elena exclaimed, shoving his hand off. As if her heart needed another reason to beat faster. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Where did you two think you were going?" Dean said, and before Sam could interject, the older Winchester bent to the ground next to him and stood straight again, revealing the soccer ball he held in his hands. "Without me?"

Dean's smirk was infectious, and Elena grabbed the ball out of his hands and started running away with it.

"Hey!" Sam called behind her. "That's travelling!"

"Ya snooze, ya lose!"

"I got her, Sammy," Dean said, grabbing Elena by her middle and dragging her back to what they'd just made the field of play. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was kind of hard when she was laughing too much to concentrate. Sam took the opportunity to pluck the ball out of her grasp and toss it to the ground.

"Okay," he said. Dean let go of Elena and gave her a Cheshire grin when she playfully glared at him. She looked pretty all flushed and mad-but-not-really-mad.

"Now we play this right."

Now…

The place was kind of gross, and so was the Indian man sitting at his computer desk stacked with pornography. Clark Adams, the manager who showed them in, looked like he had half a mind to fire the guy for how messy he kept his workstation, let along doing that on the job. But Dean was pretty quick about getting "Stewie" to trace the ancient caller ID, despite his quips about getting a "platinum membership" for Busty Asian Beauties. Elena had ignored him for the most part, but couldn't restrain a roll of her eyes.

"Holy crap."

"What?" Sam asked.

"I can't tell you where it comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going," said Stewie. He downloaded and printed out the records.

"What do you mean?"

"Ten different houses in the past two weeks," he handed Sam the paper, "all got calls from the same number."

Stewie went back to his desk while the three of them looked over the records and each address.

"So," said Stewie, getting their attention. "Are we done here? I was…kind of busy."

Elena wanted to gag. Sam didn't blame her.

"Right," said Dean, pointing with a mischievous grin. "We'll just be going."

Then…

Two days later, Dean came into the house, drenched in sweat from the noon sun that had been beating down on him and Sam while they played some football. Sam had already called the first shower, so he ran up the stairs ahead of Dean, who veered left to the kitchen to grab some water. What he didn't expect was Bobby and Elena to be talking quietly, the old man's hand on her shoulder as she wiped at something in her eye.

"Another week's not so bad," he said, rubbing his neck. "'S not often I've got company…you can stay for however long you want."

"I know," she said, and Dean thought he heard a tremor in her voice. "I'm okay…thanks, Uncle Bobby."

After a moment, Bobby nodded and let his hand fall to his side while the other reached for a beer on the counter. Elena backed out of the kitchen and made a beeline for the stairs, nearly smacking into Dean on the way there.

"Hey," he asked, and hesitated to steady her. She unconsciously backed off a little and righted herself. "Something wrong?"

Elena didn't meet his eyes, but he caught a glimpse of her face and alarms went off. At sixteen he knew with girls, tears was just one of the things they did. But she didn't seem like many of the girls he'd met.

"'M fine," she mumbled. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she slid past him and up the stairs to the other bedroom. There were two upstairs with a bathroom, one downstairs. That was the master bedroom with its own small bathroom. Sam and Dean shared the upstairs room on the right, while Elena had the left.

Dean had been on his way up there anyway, to his room, but it felt kinda wrong, knowing she was up there…all like that. But he really wanted to relax…

Whatever, he'd just go upstairs and leave her be.

From the top of the stairs though, he could see her door was open a crack. Just a few inches, but enough to see that she was curled on the bed, knees drawn to her chest. When he heard sniffling (damn it, he thought), he gave in and rapped lightly on the door. She stiffened and looked over her shoulder a little.

"What?" she snapped. He restrained a sigh and cautiously came in, pushing the door back to its nearly closed position.

"It's just me," he said, letting it hang in the air. If she didn't want him in here, she had the opportunity and the right to tell him to get the fuck out, and he would leave. But she didn't.

Standing in the middle of the room, he felt a little awkward. "Uh…"

"What, Dean?"

"Can I, uh, come in?"

"You are in," she said flatly.

"Right," he nodded." Uh, you-you okay?"

She just stared at him with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

"Wanna talk?" he asked tentatively. If she said no, he would probably leave. No, yeah, he would leave.

To his relief, after a short pause, she sighed.

"No…" Her voice broke, but he turned toward her as sobs began to wrack her body. Despite his better judgment, instead of bolting like he wanted to, he went over and slowly sat down, scooting bit by bit until he was next to her. She had to laugh a little through his antics—he looked fucking ridiculous.

"Laugh at me, that's fine," Dean said, but he was finally sat next to her. After some more inner "should I/shouldn't I" conflict, his hand lightly touched her trembling back. Finally, Elena uncurled herself long enough to turn over and lean against him and his damp shirt. Slowly, his arm found its way around her.

They stayed like that until her fit subsided enough for her to speak.

"M-My mom's gone," she admitted. He let out a long breath through his nose.

"How long ago?"

"…A month."

"…Did something…uh…" He should've just kept his mouth shut. Usually he was good at it in these situations.

"…She was sick."

Damn, he thought. Then it hadn't been quick.

"I'm sorry."

She cried harder, and that's when Sam poked his head in. Dean warned him away with a look, shaking his head minutely. Sam got the hint, and with a deer-in-the-headlights look, he bolted into their shared room. Smart move, buddy. Dean was the only dumbass who let girls cry on him.

After a while, her tears ebbed and she could breathe easier as her face rested against Dean's chest.

"…Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You really stink."

"…Too bad."

From across the hall, Sam snickered.

Now…

"That poor girl," Elena said as she and Sam drove away from the house. "Can't imagine what that first call must have been like."

Sam shook his head.

"I don't know, but the sooner we stop it, the better," he said, and flipped his phone open. Elena didn't mean to tune out his and Dean's conversation, but her thoughts drifted. She didn't want to think about what she would do if whatever was doing this decided to call her, posing as…well, either of her parents.

It would actually help them if it did; it'd make it easier to find the thing, lure it into a trap.

She wasn't strong enough for that, though. To even hear either of their voices…

But she could try and kill whatever the hell was doing this.

After a few minutes, they made it to the motel before Dean and were able to change out of their suites and into regular clothes. When Dean came in, looking spaced out of his mind and in need of a drink, Sam immediately asked him what had happened. But after Dean explained, Elena fell completely silent, while Sam was trying to make sense of it all.

"Dad…as in, Dad?"

"I don't know, maybe," said Dean, but it seemed like he believed it.

"Well what did he sound like?"

Dean looked back at Sam incredulously.

"Like Oprah." Sam sighed. "It's Dad, he sounded like Dad. What do you think?"

"What did he say?" Sam asked, trying for the love of God to be patient. Dean continued his pacing across the room.

"My name."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, call dropped out."

Sam was quiet for a moment, thinking about it.

"Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?"

"I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town?" Dean shrugged, but it wasn't as nonchalant as he wanted to make it seem. "I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones. Why can't we? It's at least a possibility right?"

"Well…yeah, I guess."

"Okay, so what if…what if it really is Dad?" Dean sat on the other bed and faced Sam, who looked confused.

"What if he calls back?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I say?"

"…'Hello,'" Sam suggested.

"'Hello?' That's what you come up with, 'Hello?'" Dean asked in mock amazement. Sam shrugged, not understanding what his brother wanted from him. Elena wanted to sigh as Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. At the last second, he turned and said, "'Hello?'"

The door shut behind him, and Elena came to sit in the sofa across from where Sam sat on one of the beds. They looked at one another.

"Well, what now?" she asked.

Sam sighed.

"Time to get digging."