AN: A sort of zombie, Bela, and some booze for your amusement.

Do You Recall

VIII: Lady Luck

So apparently they were hunting zombies in Erie, Pennsylvania. Or maybe just one zombie that was very good at his job.

After interrogating demon after demon for the name of who held Dean's contract went sour, Sam figured Dean could use the break. That last one had been a little too mouthy, and it had ended like all the rest. They were too afraid to talk.

The medical practitioner who surveyed the body of a man who'd had his liver surgically removed showed them the very clean, very not savage incision. Whoever did it knew their way around a scalpel.

"So that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory," Sam said when they were out of the medical room.

"Yeah, a zombie with skills—Dr. Quinn Medicine Zombie," Dean quipped, and while it made them laugh a little, it didn't bring them any closer to a logical explanation.

"Maybe we're on the wrong track looking up for hacked up corpses," Sam pointed out.

"What should we be looking for?" asked Elena.

"Survivors," said Sam. "This isn't zombie lunch, this is organ theft."

They talked to a guy who'd only had his kidney stolen—jumped from behind while feeding the car meter, probably knocked out or drugged and strapped to a table. Other than waking up a couple times from the agonizing pain and finally in a bathtub full of ice, he didn't remember much of anything that could help them.

So they went back to the motel of the night and did some research; Sam on suturing procedures, and Dean and Elena on the closest place with the best burgers.

"So I got a theory," said Sam.

"Yeah?" said Dean. Elena was too busy biting into juicy, tender heaven between buns.

"Yeah, talked to Mr. Giggles' doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk."

"That's weird," Dean said through a mouthful of beef and bread and cheese.

"Nowadays it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early nineteenth century." Sam turned his laptop around so the other two could see.

"It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections, the death rate was insane."

Dean scrolled through the pictures with mild distaste.

"Good times."

"Right, so doctors, they had to whatever they could to keep infections from spreading," said Sam. "One way was maggots."

Elena made convulsive sounds while Dean made a look of disgust.

"Dude, I'm eating."

"It actually kinda worked because maggots, they eat bad tissue and leave the good tissue, and get this," Sam continued. He looked so excited at the prospect that Elena didn't want to bring down his obviously good mood, but he was making her sick. "When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots."

"Dude, I'm eating," Dean said more forcefully and pushed the laptop back toward his brother. Sam gave a semi-apologetic look. "Okay, let me get this straight. So people are getting ganked, right?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"A little Antiques Road Show surgery, some organ theft—why is this all sounding familiar?"

"Because you've heard it before," Sam said. The other two still looked confused. "When you were a little kid. From Dad."

Sam opened John's journal and slid it over to Dean. The page held a lot of scribbled description, but in the middle of the right page was a strange symbol Elena had never seen before.

"Doc Benton: real life doctor who lived in New Hampshire—brilliant, and obsessed with alchemy. Especially how to live forever," Sam explained. "So in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and—"

"Right, no one hears from him in like, twenty years then all of a sudden people start showin' up dead," Dean finished.

"Dead or missing an organ or a hand, or some other kind of body part."

"Gruesome, as usual," said Elena as her eyes skimmed the pages.

"And it was actually working. He kept on going while parts would keep on ticking, and when they wore out he'd replace 'em," Dean continued. "But I thought Dad tracked him down and took his heart out."

"Yeah, I guess the doc must've plugged in a new one," said Sam.

"Oh, ick," Elena complained, and she pushed away her half-eaten burger. Dean chuckled and picked up his own, taking out a large bite.

"Kay, where's he doin' the deed?" Sam picked up the journal and skimmed the lines.

"According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest area with access to a river or stream, or some kind of fresh water."

"Why?" With this turn of conversation, Elena guessed it wouldn't be amiss to finish her burger. The sight of it reminded her she was still hungry. The smile edging onto Sam's face should've warned her.

"Because, that's where he likes to dump the bile, and intestines, and fecal matter," he finished, barely restraining a chuckle at how Dean was paling. "Still hungry?"

Elena just managed to swallow what was in her mouth, but she dropped the rest of it onto the bag. Dean made gagging gestures, but the look of his sandwich…he couldn't waste food like that.

"I could never stay mad at you, baby."

The generous bite he took made Elena cover her eyes.

They were scoping out the possible hideouts in Erie when Bobby called about a lead on Bela Talbot. Elena had never met her, but apparently she'd stolen the Colt, a one of a kind gun with one of a kind bullets, and she was very good at covering her tracks. But the lead was one Rufus Turner, former hunter turned hermit and salesman on the side, who got a line on Bela wanting to buy some things.

"I haven't seen him in fifteen years, not the Christmas card type," said Bobby. "I doubt she knows I know him…Canaan, Vermont."

"All right. Thanks, Bobby. We're on our way." said Dean.

"And one other thing. Take a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue."

"…Okay," Dean said uncertainly, and he hung up the phone and turned to Sam and Elena. "Come on, we're going after Bela."

"What?" said Sam. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second—"

"Come on, get your stuff."

"Whoa, wait. I think we should stay here and finish the case."

Dean laughed a bit.

"Oho, are you insane?" he asked, putting his jacket on.

"Dean, that was months ago, she probably sold it the second she got it," Sam pointed out. Dean seemed to consider this, adjusting his jacket.

"Well then I'll kill her. Win-win."

"Wait, kill her?" Elena asked. Dean gave her a longsuffering look.

"I'll give you the long, ridiculous fucking story in the car."

"Dean—"

"Sam. We're going." Dean threw his duffel onto the bag and looked over at Elena.

She was torn. On one hand, the Benton thing was here, and he was hurting people. On the other hand, the missing Colt in Bela's hands seemed the greater threat, if Dean's reaction was any indication. More lives at stake.

She tentatively grabbed her bag with an apologetic look at Sam.

"No," he stubbornly refused.

"Why the hell not?"

"Dean, this is here, now. This is what's going to save you!"

"What, chasing some Frankenstein?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Chasing immortality." That threw Elena and Dean for a loop, but Sam explained, "Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it and give it to you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You have to die before you go to hell, right?" Sam began, "So if you can never die, then—"

"Wait, wait, wait a second," said Dean, coming closer to Sam. "Did you know this was Doc Benton from the jump?"

Sam hesitated, but said, "No."

Dean watched his brother closely. His bullshit detector was going off with red sirens.

"Look," Sam said eventually, "I was hoping—"

"So the whole zombie thing wasn't anything, you were lying to me?"

"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, Dean," Sam said earnestly. "All I'm trying to do is find an answer here."

"No, all you're trying to do is chase…Slicey McHacky, here," said Dean, annoyance and anger raising his tone. "And to kill him? No, you wanna get him a freakin' beer, you wanna study him."

"…I was just trying to help."

"You're not helping," Dean said firmly, despite the hurt in Sam's expression. "You forget, that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching!"

"Well, fine! Whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it too!"

"Oh, what is this, Sid and Nancy?" Dean dismissed and turned away. "No, it's just like Bobby's been saying. We kill the demon that holds the contract and the whole slate is clean, that's our best shot."

Sam regarded him incredulously while Elena remained silent, waiting for how this would play out. She understood what Sam was saying, but Dean had it right. Benton was a long shot, and Dean would never risk his brother's life for that.

"Even if you did have the Colt, who are you gunna shoot?" Sam asked. "You don't know the demon that holds the ticket."

"I'll shoot the hellhounds then, before they slash me up!" Dean shot back. He was beyond done with this conversation, and all it was doing was wasting time. "Now you comin' or not?"

"I'm staying here," Sam said resolutely. Dean stared at him in disbelief.

"No you're not. Because I'm not gunna let you wander into the woods alone to track some organ-stealing freak."

"You're not gunna let me?" Sam chuckled humorlessly.

"No, I'm not—"

"You're not gunna stop me." Dean's brows raised at the challenge. "Look, Dean. We're both after the same thing here."

Dean nodded a bit, thinking how this could be resolved when his pain in the ass brother was being so fucking stubborn. Sam wasn't going to come with him. That was obvious. He knew Elena well enough that she wouldn't stay for this. She had her bag over her shoulder and was ready to go.

Fine.

"I know," he said, and grabbed his duffel. "But we're going. You want to stay? Stay."

Elena followed him to the door, casting Sam another apologetic look, and he nodded slightly. He wasn't mad at her, maybe a little annoyed she didn't take his side, but he understood her trust in Dean.

"Sammy, be careful." Dean's voice was quiet from the doorway, but it was both a warning and a plea. He turned around and met his brother's gaze.

"You too."

She waited until they were out if Erie to ask, "So who's Bela?"

"She's a conniving bitch."

"Ah."

She almost thought he wouldn't continue, but he actually explained how they had the misfortune to meet her, and how she continued to reappear and disappear from their lives, bringing complications and chaos with her. She was a thief, and selfish, and good at what she did. But above all else, she couldn't be trusted.

"Dean…she's a thief and all, and she's been a real pain in the ass. I get that. But killing her?"

"Look, you'll understand once you meet her," said Dean. "She doesn't care about anyone but herself, and she'll do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Things like morals don't fit in her quota."

She didn't have anything to say about that, so she remained quiet.

"However she tries to con us, don't buy it," he warned. "Just follow my lead once we find her, and we'll get this done."

"But what's in Canaan, Vermont then?"

Rufus Turner, apparently."

That scotch came in handy. For five minutes it was the third degree, but once the bottle came out as a peace offering, Rufus was happy enough to let them in.

"Bottoms up," Dean said once they were inside and sitting at a small table. Rufus chuckled as he poured for Elena and himself after Dean, and clanked glasses with them.

"You know, I don't even bother drinkin' unless it's this stuff," he confessed. "Nectar of the gods, I'm tellin' you."

"Yeah, it's a nice change, ya know," said Dean, "Most of my whiskey comes from a plastic jug."

They laughed, and Rufus put the cork back on the bottle.

"So, Bela was here because…"

"She wanted to buy a couple of things…which is gunna take me some time to round up."

"Where is she now?" Rufus hesitated.

"Kid, can I as you somethin'?"

"…Sure," Dean said.

"You got three weeks left," said Rufus. "Why are you wasting your time chasin' after that skinny, stuck up English girl?"

To say Dean and Elena were surprised wouldn't cover it. But unknowingly, their thoughts both ran to Bobby as the culprit.

"Who told you 'bout that?" Dean asked. Rufus sipped at his drink and leaned in.

"I know things," he said. "I know a lot of things, about a lot of people."

Dean's smile was beginning to fade at Rufus' tone. Elena could only stare at the man and watch for what Dean would do.

"Is that so?"

"I know ain't no piece shooter gunna save you."

Dean took a swig of whiskey.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked.

"'Cause that's the job, kid," said Rufus, his expression no longer jovial. "Even if you scrape yourself out of this one there's just gunna be something else down the road."

His gaze shifted to Elena.

"Folks like us? There ain't no happy endin'…we all got it comin'."

Dean nodded slightly, then offered a humorless grin.

"Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine."

Rufus gave a mocking smile and leaned back.

"I'm what you have to look forward to if you survive." He drank nearly the end of his glass. "But you won't."

"It's not worth it, Lena. Just get in the car."

"That son of a bitch." She could kill something right now. Never had she met a more infuriating, callous person. The only thing holding her back from turning around and knocking through that old man's door was Dean's hand at the small of her back leading her to the passenger side of the Impala. Because he knew if he didn't follow her all the way to the door, she would turn around.

"Calm down," he said when he was in the driver's seat.

"Calm down? Don't tell me to fucking calm down, you asshole!"

Dean rolled his eyes and backed out of the driveway. They got the information they needed, strange as it was how Rufus got it, but they got it.

"I've got half a mind to go back there. And give me back my knife!"

"You'll get it back when you've got your head back on straight."

Elena made a sound of frustration and glared at him.

"You've got some damn nerve, Winchester."

He grinned and gave her a cursory glance.

"Not for nothin', I wouldn't waste a bullet on him either."

She crossed her arms and muttered something he pretended he didn't catch.

"I appreciate the thought." She looked over at him, and he smiled a little. "But we've got better things to do."

They parked behind the building so they wouldn't tip of Bela before she even got to the hotel room. Dean unlocked the trunk and pulled out his own gun, plus a spare to stick on the other side of his belt.

"Dean, give me your spare," said Elena. He looked over at her slowly, trying and failing to hide his confusion.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I can cover you better if I have one."

"Lena, you don't have to—"

"Dean," she said firmly, but her eyes guarded. "When I ask for a gun, it's because I'm sure."

He relented and handed her his spare. She tucked it in the waistband of her jeans and threw the hem of her shirt over it.

"We'll take the stairs," he told her.

They were able to break into her apartment and take Bela by surprise. Elena was a bit taken aback by Dean's ferocity, but considering everything he told her, she could understand the anger snapping at its leash. He anticipated the concealed gun behind Bela's back and he searched the apartment thoroughly while Elena kept her on gunpoint.

She was short, shorter than Elena with mousy brown hair. But her eyes were sharp and unreadable and cut through Elena as if she weren't standing there.

"I told you I don't have it."

"Yeah, I'm gunna take your word for it," Dean answered, sarcasm dripping from every word, and shoved a hand through Bela's suitcase.

A shot rang out, the sound reverberating throughout the room, and Elena's head whipped to Dean, whose aimed gun was steady as a bow. There was a hole in the door by Bela's shoulder.

"I told you not to move," He warned. Elena kept her gun aloft, but she didn't have to look at her hands to know they were shaking. Can I do this?

Every muscle in her body was tense. Too tense. She didn't know this woman, how she would react, but she knew that even if Bela still wasn't afraid of Elena, right now, she was afraid of Dean. That was probably enough.

Bela regained her breath and sighed, and Dean nodded, going back to rifling through the expensive looking carrier bag.

"It's gone. Get on a plane if you must." Dean gave up on the suitcase and searched the room for any other kind of hiding spot. "Track down the buyer and you might find it."

Dean's jaw clenched. He moved toward her and aimed his gun, allowing Elena to stand down. She silently let go of her breath and found relief in that.

"Are you going to kill me?" Bela asked, staring at his face blankly.

"Oh yeah." Elena could hear in his tone and see that, while he was obviously pissed to the nth degree, he wouldn't shoot to kill. At least she hoped that she knew.

"You're not the cold-blooded type."

"You mean like you? It's true. See, I couldn't imagine killing my parents," Dean said flatly. Elena caught a shift in the other woman's gaze.

"I don't know what you're talk—"

"Yes you do. You were, what, fourteen?" he asked knowingly. "Folks died in some shady car accident, police suspected a slashed break line, but it was all too crispy to tell."

Bela's expression remained indifferent.

"Cut to little Bela—oh, I'm sorry, Abby…inheriting millions."

Her face slackened, just a little.

"How did you even—"

"Doesn't matter."

Something flickered in her eyes before she looked down, let out a breath. It caught Elena's attention. But when Bela looked back up at Dean, the brief vulnerability was gone, replaced with a mild smirk.

"They were lovely people," she said, her accent lilting her words. "And I killed them. And I got rich. And I can't be bothered to give a damn."

Her smirk deepened.

"Just like I don't care what happens to you."

Elena blinked and Dean had Bela pressed against the wall, his arm pressing against her neck hard enough to be uncomfortable while his gun was poised against her throat. Elena had been impressed by his earlier precision, but his ferocity worried her. Just what had this woman done to push him to the boundary between killing things and killing people.

"You make me sick."

Bela didn't blink.

"Likewise."

Dean backed away from her, this time aiming his gun true. He would've shot too. But his eyes caught the dried plant placed just over the door. It looked familiar.

He knew Elena was behind him. He knew she thought he was better than this.

Maybe he was.

Or maybe she already had her express lane ticket downstairs.

"Nah," he lowered his arm with a smirk. "You're not worth it."

"Hey."

"Hey…did you get the Colt?"

"What do you think?" said Dean as they drove down the highway. Both he and Elena were tense and in sour moods after the crap-load of nothing they just got, but Dean had to check in, even if he'd rather avoid his brother's "I told you so" over the phone.

"Then Bela's…"

"No, no. She deserves to die a thousand times over, but I couldn't do it. I'm really screwed, Sammy," Dean admitted, despite Sam trying to tell him otherwise. "You know? Bela was a goose chase, Colt's gone…and this time I'm really screwed, Sam."

"…Maybe not…Dean, I found Benton's cabin."

"You okay? Was he there?"

"Yeah."

"Did you kill him?"

"…No."

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

"Dean, please just listen for a second. I found his lab book, it has the formula."

"What, the 'live forever' formula?"

"Yeah!" He sounded optimistic, but Dean was less than enthused. Even so, he caved at Elena's insistence to put the phone on speaker so she could hear.

"All right, lemme guess. I've gotta drink blood out of a baby's skull?" Elena shot him a disgusted look, and he rolled his eyes.

"No," Sam laughed. "That's the thing, it's not black magic. There's no blood sacrifice or anything…it's just science, Dean. Very, very extremely weird science, but…"

"Whoa, wait a second. What are you saying?" Dean asked. "You think…"

"Yeah, I think it might be doable," said Sam. "I mean, I know we've hit a lot of walls, but I think this formula—I think it might be it. This could save you."

Dean was momentarily speechless as he and Elena looked at one another, eyes wide. But after a few seconds he forced his mouth to work.

"Okay, so this formula…"

"Right, well, we're not out of the clear yet. There are still some things that I don't get, but—"

And then Sam cut off, muffled sounds coming through the speaker. Dean and Elena looked at one another in both alarm and confusion.

"Sam?" asked Dean. When the muffled sounds became accompanied by some thrashing and rustled fabric, his voice became more urgent. "Sammy?"

Then the line cut off.

It took all of one second for Dean to step heavy on the accelerator.

Finding Sam was the easy part. The location of the old, broken down barn was in an open tab of Google Maps on Sam's laptop. But no matter how many times Dean shot the bastard, he wouldn't go down, would barely even flinch. Even when Dean stabbed the good old doctor right through the heart, that mismatched, ghoulish face only laughed and kept the knife in place as he stood. He grabbed Elena by the arm when she tried to sneak past him to help Sam, bloody fingers staining her skin, and shoved her hard into a mess of wooden crates against the wall.

"What part of immortality…do you not understand?"

Dean breathed easier when he heard her groan and begin to lift herself out of the broken wood. He smirked at Benton.

"Good. That means it should be pumping strong," he held up a bottle of chloroform, "sending this stuff all throughout your body."

"No…" Benton groaned, but his body eventually swooned and fell against a metal cabinet.

When Benton finally came to hours later, the hunters were ready and waiting.

"Oh. Hiya, Doc," Dean said, leaning over their captive with a smirk. Sam and Elena stood on the other side of the table, making sure the restraints were strong. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey."

"Please…" Benton begged.

"Please, what? You've been killin' poor bastards for over a hundred fifty years and now you've got a request? Shut up."

"You don't understand, I can help you. I know what you need—"

"I'm gunna have to cut him up into little bits, this mortality thing is a real bitch," Dean said, looking up at the other two with a wide grin. Sam barely tried at a smile while they stood right next to the table he was just strapped to an hour ago.

"I can read you the formula," Benton hedged, piquing Sam's attention. "You know…immortality, forever young. Never dying."

Dean paused. It gave Sam the courage to try and get his brother's attention.

"Dean…"

"Sam," he warned. But Sam walked away into the other room, making Dean and Elena follow him.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I mean, we're talking Hell in three weeks not needing a new pancreas in half a century."

"Yeah, you can't exactly get those at a quickie mart," Dean shot back.

"It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better."

"…Yeah, but can you reverse that kind of quick-fix?" Elena pointed out. They were all desperate to find an answer, but she couldn't see Dean becoming…that. What was lying on that table, seemingly helpless, after over a century of massacring people to patch up his own skin and insides.

"We just need time, just please…think about it," Sam begged.

Dean shook his head.

"No."

Sam's eyes widened, his lips pursing in frustration.

"Dean, don't you want to live?"

"What he is isn't living," Dean refuted, "Look, this is simple."

"Simple?"

"To me, it is, okay? Black or white, human, not human." Dean walked back into the room, Benton's eyes following him. "See what Doc is, is a monster. I can't do it…I would rather go to Hell."

He dunked a cloth with some more chloroform.

"You don't understand," said Benton. "I can help. You."

Dean held the cloth over the Doc's mouth while Elena held down his shoulders, even as the old man struggled. Dean met his brother's eyes.

"I'm gunna take care of him. You can either help me or not, it's up to you."

"Enjoy forever, Doc," Dean said to the desperate, angry shouts coming from the refrigerator lying in a six-foot hole. Bolted with chains and a lock, neither Benton or his journal were getting out for a long time. Especially after they buried the hole in dirt.

They made a quick dash to the motel to get their stuff and head out, getting about two states over by the time Dean called the motel room. Bela picked up.

"Hiya, Bela. Here's a little fun fact you might not have known: I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt," said Dean.

"You don't understand—" She sounded pressured, desperate. But he didn't care.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly," he said. "You see, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room. Something tucked above the door. An herb? Devil's shoestring?"

He heard her sigh.

"There's only one use for that…holding hellhounds at bay. So you know what I did? I took another look at your folks obit, looks like they died ten years ago today." There was silence on the other end, but he knew she was listening. "You didn't kill 'em. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn't you, Bela? And it's come due."

Still silence.

"Is that why you stole the Colt? Tryin' to wiggle out of your deal? Our gun for your soul?"

"Yes," came the thick reply.

"But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing."

"They changed the deal…they wanted me to kill Sam."

"Really? Wow. Demons, untrustworthy," Dean said offhandedly. "Huh. Shocker…That's kind of a tight deadline too, what time is it?"

11:58.

"Aw, look at that. Almost midnight."

She finally broke down, and he heard her tears through the phone as she said, "Dean, listen, I need help."

"Girl, we are weeks past help."

"I know I don't deserve it—"

"You're right, you don't. But you know the bitch of the bunch is?" Dean asked over her soft sobbing. "If you would've just come to us sooner, and asked for help, we probably could've taken the Colt and saved you."

"I know, and saved yourself," she admitted. "I know about your deal, Dean."

"And who told you that?"

"The demon that holds it…she holds mine too. She says she holds every deal."

"She?" said Dean.

"Her name's Lilith."

"Lilith?" Dean repeated, shooting Sam a look. "Why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't but it's the truth."

"This can't help you, Bela. Not now, why're you telling me this?"

"Because just maybe you can kill the bitch."

Go figure.

"I'll see you in Hell."

They stopped in South Bend, Indiana at some no name motel, in the middle of a busy town for once. But before the motel, Dean parked in front of a liquor store.

"Dean, what're we doing here?" Sam asked. If Dean wanted a drink, or hell, to get wasted, why didn't he just go to a bar?

"What does it look like, Sam? Goin' grocery shopping."

"Sure you don't just want to go to a bar?" Elena asked. That way it'd cost more to get more drunk than they could afford…she'd seen Dean hit the bottle a little too hard before on a night he thought she and Sam were asleep.

"No," he said, surprising her. Because usually he was all for the dive atmosphere; scoping the talent and kicking back. "But we're taking a night off."

And apparently, that meant beer and real whiskey, followed by tequila for the hard hitters. Mainly because he knew Sam couldn't resist tequila.

Pretty soon they were sitting at a plastic table in the middle of the motel room. Shots were being kicked back in doubles, triples, and Dean was more than a little light headed. He turned down the music that was playing after he realized that it wasn't his head pounding in that rhythm.

"Deeean," Elena whined as she examined a shot glass. "I'm bored. So bored."

"You drank half your size, what more you want?" he remarked dryly.

"What about a game?" Sam offered. Elena's face lit up, but Dean frowned.

"She's not gunna be awake for much longer," he said, thumb pointing in her direction. She gave him a peeved look through narrowed eyes.

"How dare you?" she hiccupped, "'M fine."

He only gave her a deadpan look.

"Fine…oh, what about that one," she said, "That one I can't remember it's name…you ask a question and the other person…that person tells the truth or has to do whatever they tell 'em to do."

"Truth or Dare?" Sam asked with a smile, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"Yeah! That one," she said. Dean groaned.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

"Lena…"

"Please, please, pleeeease, Deeean," she begged. He grimaced as she put all her weight on his shoulder and clung there, making herself sufficiently in his personal space. "It'll be like, a real sleep'ver!"

Because he had the practice of holding his liquor much better than her, he actually considered the request with a good amount of clear-headedness, though there was that part of his brain that was a bit fuzzy. He had to focus harder than he was used to if he seriously wanted to consider the probable consequences. But because he wasn't really in a position to be thinking of things like consequences,

"Sammy, you wanna play?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Truth or Dare," Elena said excitedly. Sam looked tipsy, but not quite drunk. He'd hit the tequila light this time around, not wanting the hangover he'd had the last time. So he raised a brow at his brother.

"Really?"

Dean shrugged with a flat expression. At this point he didn't give a shit if he was even conscious or not. Meanwhile, Elena was bouncing in her seat. She took one of her empty beer bottles (of which there were surprisingly many) and set it in the middle of the table.

"Who wants t' spin first?" she asked.

"You can, Lena," Sam said, smiling in amusement. She was clearly a happy drunk.

"Okay!" And then her face was pure concentration as she positioned the bottle just right, then spun. It landed on Sam.

"Kay, Truth or Dare. And if you take the dare you can't change your mind!" she warned.

"Hmm," Sam pretended to think on it for a second, taking a sip of beer for good measure. "Think I'll go with truth."

Elena bit her lip with a pensive look on her face. Her head cocked to the side, and the brother's eyes met over their drinks.

"Let's start off easy," she said. "What was the craziest thing you ever did?"

Sam grinned, while Dean snorted. The memory came easily enough.

"We've done a lot of crazy-ass things," Dean said.

"But it's gotta be when I jumped off the roof when I was little. Dean said I was Superman and I could fly." Elena gasped, looking at Dean in horror.

"He was dumb enough to believe it," Dean remarked, taking another large gulp of whiskey even though it burned.

"You would be the one telling people to jump off bridges," she murmured, but gestured for Sam to spin next.

"Here we go," Dean griped when it landed on him. And before Sam could ask, "Dare."

His brother raised both brows, an "are you sure you're sure?" look.

"Go ahead. Bring it on," Dean goaded him. Maybe that had been a bad idea. That's how he found himself with his fingernails painted red. Plus, there were sparkles in it. Sparkles.

"And that's gunna be a bitch to get off later," Elena said, her speech only slightly slurred. "Gets red all over your fingers."

"…Well that's just great."

Dean hadn't been the best champ throughout the whole process, but on the bright side, he was ready to take his turn. When it landed on Elena he was half disappointed, but also half glad. He could get her back for making him look like a drag queen.

"Truth or dare, Shortstop," he taunted, and she almost leaned over to hit him on principle for that damned nickname. Well, she would've, but her depth perception was off by a mile and the attempt almost had her on the floor tumbling out of her chair. Sam and Dean helped her up even though Dean was having a hard time while laughing so hard. Eventually she was able to answer, "Truth."

"Okay…" His expression turned mischievous, and alcohol made him not give a fuck. His smirk made Elena nervous. "How'd you get your cherry popped? And when."

Her eyes widened large as saucers. Sam spluttered into his beer.

"Why you wanna know? 'Sides, that's two questions," she complained while blushing. Though she couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or embarrassment making her face and neck hot.

"It's a valid question! No take backs," Dean said firmly with a grin, pointedly ignoring Sam.

"Ugh, fine you pervy…perv. I was," she thought hard, "Eighteen, and we'd been together for…I think a year. Dad was always gone, so we went to my house after seeing a movie. One minute we're making out on my sofa, next we're in m' room and I can hear the neighbors' dog barking at us the whole time. Wasn't exactly date of the year."

Sam was a bit more successful at restraining a snicker than Dean, forcing it back into an amused smile.

"You need the play-by-play or are you good without the hot and heavy details?" she asked sarcastically. Dean shot her a wry look. On second thought, he didn't really want the details of her getting with other guys, even if it was her first.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

"Kay. Well then, it's my turn."

The game went on for several rounds, gaining higher in stakes as they drank. It went from Dean admitting to getting caught stealing from a department store by the police to Elena revealing that while on a solo hunt (that she never told her dad about), she once pretended to be a hooker to catch a shapeshifter that was very particular in his tastes.

And yes, Dean, she still had the clothes. No, asshole, she wouldn't give him a private demonstration.

Sam having to strip down to his boxers was a highlight, at least for Elena. Dean had thought it would be funny to see his little brother embarrassed, and it was. Until Elena, inebriated as she was, couldn't stop staring at the younger man's chest and abdomen. Sure, she didn't usually think of Sam like that. But she was a woman. She had eyes.

"It's a bit cold in here," Sam complained. Dean was tempted to make Sam put his clothes back on, just because he was sick of that weird look on Elena's face being made toward his brother. But she spoke up before he could.

"You gotta live with your dare 'til we end the game!" she exclaimed, and gestured Dean to take his turn.

"…All right, Elena. Truth or Dare."

"Hmm…don't want end up like Sam. Truth." Not that either Sam or Dean would ever make her strip to her underwear in front of them, but it made Sam shake his head.

"I dunno…you got a phobia?" he asked. She blinked.

"Phobia…like a biggest fear?"

"Sure."

"Umm…" This one she obviously knew, but she looked like she was having a hard time saying it. He realized that may be a little too hard for her, considering what he knew of her and her past, so he tried to correct the situation.

"That's a dumb question, lemme think of a better one—"

"No…it's okay," she said, a bit quieter and less enthusiastic as before. "Um…I don't really like the dark all that much, if 'm by myself. Being alone in the house, I used t' leave the hallway light on at night."

"Really?" Sam asked. He couldn't say he'd never been there when he was little, knowing about the things they did, the stories their dad would sparingly tell them to make sure they knew how to protect themselves while on their own.

"Yeah," she said, then brightened as it was her turn to spin. She liked watching the brown bottle go round and round. It made her dizzy to look at for too long though.

"Dean, Truth or Dare?" Dean sighed.

"Truth, I guess."

"Okay, I'ma think of a good one…" She bit her lip in concentration and pulled at a strand of her own hair. Dean could see she was getting tired. Good thing too. That meant this could end soon.

"Dean… you ever been 'n love?"

Dean swallowed the whiskey too hard and had to rub his chest for the feeling of heart burn to fade. Sam fell oddly silent, watching his brother's reaction.

"Um…you serious?" He met her eyes then, light grey and piercing, and strangely serious for how much alcohol she'd consumed. He wanted to sigh, to turn away from that stare. It was too much. But he kept her gaze.

"Once."

"What happened?"

His mouth curved slightly into a deprecating smile.

"Didn't work out."

"'M sorry." Her words were slurring, but her eyes were honest. His smile became slightly more genuine.

"It's okay."

She smiled, but her blinking started slowing, and she yawned.

"Finally tired?" he asked.

"…Yeah."

Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded and reached down to get his clothes from the floor. Sam blearily made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The guy had been drunk, but he was a bit more sober now than he had been. It was Elena that probably needed help.

"Can you make it to the bed?" he asked, his head clearing somewhat of its alcohol-induced fogginess.

"I thought I had…couch."

"Nope, you're getting the bed tonight. I'll take the couch," he said, and moved over to her. Despite her protests, he lifted her out of the chair bridal style. She held onto him tightly, curling her body closer to him.

"Don't worry, I gotcha," he assured, and started walking her over to the bed with the goal of not losing his balance.

"God, 'm so hot."

Dean paused mid-step. "What?"

Elena rubbed her cheeks with both hands, dragging them down her neck as she tossed her head back across Dean's arm. "Why 'm I so fuckin' hot right now?"

"I uh…I dunno," Dean cleared his throat, trying and failing to get the visual of her hands and her flushed body out of his head. "Uh, here we go. Come on."

"Dean…Dean-o."

"Hmm."

"You've got a grouchy face sometimes…" Her finger poked his cheek. He raised a brow while fighting a smile, despite himself. "But I like it."

"'S that so?"

"Yeah…some p-ple think you're…like that all the time. But I know th' truth."

He laid her down on the bed and stretched the covers over her.

"What's that?" he humored her.

"You're a good guy," she smiled lazily. "Really good, Dean-o…"

"Hmm, thanks," said Dean, finally letting the smile loose. He was about to move away from the bed and let her sleep, but to his surprise, she grabbed onto his hand.

"Dean…" Her voice was small and pleading, and he was surprised to see unshed tears in her eyes. "I don' want you to go."

"I'm right here, Lena. Just gunna go to the couch—"

"No. I mean, I don' want 'em t' take you…like Bela."

He stilled. His smile faded and she gripped his hand tightly with both of hers.

"I don't," she insisted, blinking glassy eyes. It kind of felt like a sucker punch to his gut. "…I don' wanna miss you. 'Nd I don' want Sam t' miss you. So…you don' give up, kay?"

He looked down at her, trying and probably failing to contain the emotions he felt roiling inside him. When he made no move to answer, Elena shook his hand a bit.

"Kay?"

"…Okay."

"Promise?"

Only then did a tear escape, rolling down her cheek. He wanted to sigh.

This is why I let her come with us?

He should've known she'd get hurt in the end, and they were barely closer to breaking his deal today than they were a couple weeks ago.

"Promise."

"…Okay."

And just like that, she was smiling and letting go of his hands to burrow into the covers. He brushed strands of hair away from her forehead. She hummed happily and pulled the sheets close to her body.

"Kay…" She snuggled into her pillow and was basically out. He shook his head and made his way over to the couch, and didn't bother with all the empty bottles at the table.

I'll make Sam clean up that shit in the morning.

Sam made his way to the only empty bed. He'd changed and brushed his teeth, but he didn't feel comfortable. He saw Dean, in a deep sleep on the sofa, face peaceful for once, but still drawn. Sam wanted to scream. Throw things. Shoot things. Destroy something with his bare hands, because in three weeks, he would lose his big brother. It wasn't fair. Not after his mom, after Jess. After his dad.

He glanced over at Elena, also sleeping soundly. She'd had it right. Sam didn't want to miss his brother.

He scrubbed at the sting in his eyes and got into bed, falling heavily on the pillow.

It's not fucking fair.