AN: So I'm not sure if there are many people reading this story. But if you are please let me know so I know if you want me to continue. I've got some ideas to shake up future chapters, but if you have any requests, I'll consider those too.

Do You Recall

"In a fantasy of my anticipation
I knew there was no consolation,"

—Journey, "Forever in Blue"

X: Forever in Blue

Sam didn't hear the door open. Didn't even blink when grocery bags were placed on the table right behind his open laptop.

"I brought lunch."

He spared a cursory glance.

"It's all right," he said, and continued scrolling down on the article he was reading. "I'm not hungry."

There was a pause.

"But I brought you a chicken salad sandwich…see? It's got tomato and everything."

He kept reading.

"…Sam."

"What, Elena?"

He finally looked up at her and didn't look perturbed by her deep frown.

"You need to eat. And not just some granola and a bottle of water every few hours," she said sternly, and deposited the plastic bag right into his lap. "Give your eyes a rest for ten minutes."

"I can't," he said stubbornly, shaking his head. "I found this newspaper article—"

"Sam," she interrupted, but more gently. "It'll still be there after—"

"And so will Dean!" he shouted, stood up from his chair roughly. "I can't stop, not when I know he's…"

Elena ignored the painful stab that brought. Seeing him like this made her heart ache, but she was trying. She was trying hard.

"We've gone from motel to motel for two months. Sam, you're not getting any sleep—"

Neither was she, but that was beside the point.

"So that's it. You're done? What, you want to give up?" Sam asked. His hair was unbrushed, and she could see the stubble on his usually clean shaven face, the dark circles under his tired eyes.

"Of course not," she sighed heavily, preparing the same tired words she'd been using for weeks. "But…maybe a break. Sam…you're running yourself into the ground—"

"Dean would never stop. Not if it was me," he glared at her accusingly. "So you want me to sit around, take a nap? Fuck that, Elena."

"You," said Elena, "are killing yourself! He wouldn't want—"

"Don't you dare," Sam shouted, "Don't you dare tell me what he would've wanted. He told me to keep fighting and that's what the hell I'm going to do. If you don't like it?"

He leaned over the table, mere inches from her face.

"Then get out."

Elena stared into his hard, angry eyes. They'd had variants of this conversation before, all of them ending with Sam getting angry or turning on her with his grief in his eyes. Then Elena would give up. More often than not she'd stay up with him until the early hours of the morning, on the computer or nose-deep in some book. But never once had he told her to leave.

She wanted to be mad at him. But all she saw was a deeply wounded boy that wanted his brother back. That didn't mean his words didn't hurt, though.

"You don't mean that."

"Wanna bet?"

She sighed, and gave him a hard look.

"Sam, I wouldn't be here if…if I didn't care."

He ignored her and shifted his eyes away from her face.

"I just don't want to see you do this to yourself."

He didn't look up at her again as he started scrolling through the small words on his screen. His head was pounding, and his eyes burned, but it didn't matter. He knew what he needed to do, and he didn't need anyone to help him.

"No one's asking you to stay," he said coldly. Out of the corner of his vision he could see her face darken.

"You're so fucking stubborn, you know that?" she said, a little more snappish than she intended. "Keep going like this and you're damn well going to break down. And then what? Everything your brother did for us—for you—"

Sam slammed a fist on the table and snapped his furious, bloodshot gaze up at her.

"You've got no damn right to stop me," he said. Dark hazel met stormy grey in a tense stalemate, one hard and unyielding, the other angry, but sad.

Finally, grey blinked and turned downwards, frustrated brows furrowing, before returning in resignation.

"Fine."

She threw her things into her duffel bag, but on her way out, she placed the sandwich on his lap. Plus a bottle of Coke and the baked whole grain chips he liked.

"Eat that. I spent eight-fifty on it."

She tossed him her motel key and walked out the door, got into her Camaro and drove. She didn't know where she was going, but she pacified herself with the thought that Sam had her on speed dial.

Elena didn't know how she ended up on Bobby's front porch. She really didn't. But he opened the door and looked surprised to see her.

"Hey…sorry I haven't called." Her voice was shaky, even to her own ears.

"It's…no problem," he said, but looked confused. "Where's Sam?"

"He, um…he decided he wanted to keep going on his own, and I…" Her eyes fell to the ground. Suddenly she felt a lot more lost without Sam. She just knew she didn't want to be alone. "I didn't know where else to go."

"…Well, come on in already."

She smiled hesitantly and followed him inside. It faded when she got a good look at the place; beer bottles littered the small dining table and much of the available counter space. There were empty Chinese takeout boxes on the table next to the bottles.

"Want a beer?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine," she said, dumping her bag on the couch. She joined him in the kitchen and marveled at how many stains could be on one stove. "When was the last time you cooked?"

"Uh…" He gave her a look. "Do I look like Betty Crocker to you?"

She smiled, shaking her head.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Nope. It's only four."

"Good. That means I've got time to clean."

"Clean?" he asked skeptically. "When was the last time you cleaned something more complicated than dirty dishes?"

Her smile kicked up into a grin as she shrugged.

"Never too late to learn."

By seven o'clock, the kitchen and living room weren't spotless, but the beer bottles and used containers were in the trash, the dishes were done and set on the table, and the stove and counters were clean enough to use. Bobby's cupboards were mostly empty, save for some canned food, a couple boxes of spaghetti and a bag of rice. Elena settled with spaghetti because he had the sauce, and after getting up on a small step ladder she could reach the back of the pantry for some parmesan cheese.

"How'd it come out?" she asked him after five minutes of relative silence, save for the television playing some kind of 60s movie Elena had never seen, but Bobby seemed to be enjoying.

"Beats takeout," he said, but his hand kept reaching for the spoon in the pot for another helping. And if he touched the half-drunk bottle beside his plate a little less, then that was enough for her.

"This is Supervisory Special Agent, Jessie Manning. How may I help you?"

Elena drummed her fingers on the desk.

"Yes, Agent Mercer has been conducting this case for the past three weeks. It would be in your best interest to allow him to see the body," she said. "I cannot disclose the full nature of the investigation. I'm sure you understand."

Inwardly she sighed in relief when the police officer on the other line begrudgingly gave in.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said, and hung up the phone. "That's like, what, eight calls in the past half hour?"

Bobby came in from the kitchen and handed her a plate full of sandwich and Pringles.

"You said you wanted a 'more or less' stable job," he shrugged. "I could send you back out with Roy and Walt."

Elena shook her head immediately.

"Walt gives me the creeps."

"Any particular reason why?" Bobby asked.

"I dunno…you get the feeling he likes the job a little too much," she said, and took a bite out of her sandwich. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then wrinkled her nose.

"Did you put mustard?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Ugh. Bobby, you know I hate mustard."

"If it bothers you so much, get off your ass and make your own damn sandwich," he said around a mouthful of ham and cheese. "Tastes fine to me."

"You don't put mustard on ham!"

"Says who?"

Elena sighed and got up to head over to the kitchen. Maybe she could scrape the yellow paste off with a napkin.

"You know what? Forget it."

"Good. And while you're up, get me that book on Greek mythology over there," he said, pointing to the shelf on the far wall. "Wilkins thinks he found a harpy."

"A harpy?" she asked, deciding she'd wiped off as much mustard as she could. She'd just add more pickles to distract from the sharp tang. "I thought those things were in Greece."

"Not all creatures stay in their hometowns, 'specially if they're ancient," Bobby explained, and glanced at the old clock on the wall.

"Don't you gotta be somewhere tonight?" he asked. Elena's eyes widened in realization as she set the book down next to his glass of water.

"Oh yeah. My ride's getting here at five," she looked at the clock, then took a few more hurried bites of her sandwich with some chips. "Damn it, it's two thirty."

"You've got nearly three hours," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. But by now he knew his niece well enough to know that she'd need every minute. "Maybe if you were more of a girl and less of a perfectionist, you'd take less time to paint your nails."

She stilled. Familiar words echoed in her mind.

"About time, princess. Stop to repaint your nails?"

"Yeah well," she said eventually, after she'd unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "If I need any lessons, I'll just ask you."

"Oh, that's rich." If he noticed her falter, he didn't comment. "Just don't use up all the hot water. You're not the only one who likes to be clean around here."

"Could've fooled me," she shot back. "This place was a dump when I got here."

He snorted.

"You kiddin'? This place is still a dump."

Elena shook her head with an amused smile, but headed upstairs to what was now her room on the left. Just to spite him, Elena took her time in the shower. She got out before the water started to get cold though. Toweling off her hair, she decided on a V-neck blue top with a black skirt. She knew she would be talked into wearing heels eventually, but for now black flats were it.

Bobby, damn him, was unfortunately right on most occasions. Makeup always took her forever, so she stuck with the basics: foundation, mascara and eyeliner…and fine, a little blush to give her some color. It was more than she did in a normal day. While on the road these past few months, eyeliner and mascara was usually all she had the time or energy for before they were out the door for the next case.

Her hair though, was an animal. Blow-drying it was a bitch, and took the longest out of anything since she had so much hair. It was thick and nearly to her waist now.

I seriously need a haircut, she thought, and considered pulling a pair of scissors out of the bathroom drawer, but thought better of it. With her luck, she'd end up butchering it.

Almost an hour later, she was basically done, just ironing out the kinks on the top layer with the brush rolled in close to her head.

That was when she heard the shouting and loud thumps against the wall. She immediately shut off the dryer.

"I'm not a shapeshifter!"

Elena froze. That voice…it was familiar. But more importantly, Bobby was in trouble.

She took the stairs two at a time on the way down, stopping in the middle to survey the damage.

"Bobby—"

What she saw instead made her trip, nearly rolling her ankle when she landed on the last step. Her ass ached, but in reaching for a weapon she drew out her hairdryer.

Bobby looked all kinds of stunned, but wasn't him her eyes were glued to. It was Dean Winchester, standing in the middle of the living room in jeans and a buttoned down shirt rolled up on the sleeves, looking a bit worse for wear, but…alive.

It can't be.

It looked like him. But there was no way.

"Lena," the imposter said. "…It's me."

"Y-You…" she brandished the hairdryer with wide, scared eyes, "S-Stay back!"

His mouth twitched upward.

"You're gunna blow me to death?"

That was definitely a crappy joke he would make.

So it sounded like him. But it wasn't. And why wasn't Bobby doing anything?

"It's him, kid," he said, and she could've sworn she saw unshed tears swimming in his eyes.

Elena shook her head, and the motion painfully reminded her that her brush was still lodged in her hair.

Her hands shook when "Dean" started moving towards her, slowly. When he knelt in front of her, he gently pried the dryer from her hands and set it down from the floor, then grasped her hands and helped her stand.

"Bobby tested me with silver already," he said. "I dunno how it happened…but I'm back."

He then gently pulled the brush out of her hair and offered it to her. Eventually, she took it.

And she tossed it away.

Elena threw her arms around his neck and he grunted at the impact, but wrapped his arms around her back, chuckling. She felt the vibration of it through her chest, and maybe she had to wipe away a few (a lot of) tears. But she felt herself smiling, especially when he put her down and looked down at her with a grin on his face.

"But…how?" she asked, still teary-eyed. His skin was covered in dirt, that much was certain.

"I don't know," he confessed, letting go of her. "I just—"

Water splashed in his face, and he closed his eyes, spitting the rest out.

"Bobby," he heard Elena scold. He wiped his eyes and stared at the older hunter blankly.

"I'm not a demon either, ya know."

"Sorry…can't be too careful," Bobby said with a shrug. He handed Dean a towel to clean the rest off.

"So anyway," Dean continued, "I…I woke up in the dark, in a pine box and…after I busted myself out, I was standin' in front of my grave."

"But that don't make no lick of sense," said Bobby. Dean shrugged and tossed the towel over his shoulder.

"You're preaching to the choir," he replied.

"You didn't see anyone?" Elena said, concern coloring her tone.

"No one…"

That was when he finally got a good look at her. His brows furrowed a little.

"You goin' somewhere?" Dean asked. He'd never seen her dolled up before, didn't even know she owned a skirt. Her eyes seemed brighter, her face with a bit more glow than he remembered. Was she wearing makeup? "You look good."

Suddenly she was a little sheepish, her gaze averting from his.

"Oh, um…yeah," she said, then her smile became a little more playful when she looked back up at him. "I've got a date."

His expression slackened.

"…Oh yeah?" he asked, his brows shooting up. He forced a teasing smile. "Anyone I know?"

"Hmm," she pretended to think. "I don't think so."

And then, conveniently, there was a knock at the door. Elena checked the clock.

5:05

"Wow, on time for once," she muttered, and went to the door. When she opened it, Dean became even more confused.

"You're five minutes late!" Elena griped. A young woman about Elena's age rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of auburn hair away from her face and pulling large black sunglasses to the top of her head.

"You've gotta be kidding. You're worse than my mother. Honestly, it takes me like six hours to get here. You should be grateful I make the effort to come pick your ass up," she said, giving Elena a friendly kiss on the cheek and walking in, toting a brown leather purse with manicured nails. "Hey, Bobby. I'm stealing her for the night, but I'll bring ya back a bottle of whiskey as compensation, kay?"

And then she looked up with dark blue eyes that zeroed in on Dean's surprised face. Hers mirrored his, but with an underlying edge that made Elena grow wary.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing a party favor."

Dean's eyes widened marginally, and Elena's face was comical.

"Val, this is Dean…he's a family friend," she corrected, shooting the other woman a stern look. Val only looked amused. "Dean, this is—"

"Pleasure to meet you, Family Friend, Dean Mystery Hotness," she said, holding out a hand. He marveled a bit at the many old bracelets adorned on her wrists. They clashed with everything else she was wearing that was more refined. "I'm Best Friend Valerie Hatfield."

"…Nice to meet you," he said eventually, shaking her hand.

"Val, can I talk to you for a minute?" Elena asked.

"Sure," she shrugged, but winked at Dean as they passed. When they were in the relative privacy of the kitchen, Elena sighed as her friend looked like she was about to explode if she tried containing herself anymore.

"All right, go ahead."

"Whoishe, wheredidhecomefrom andwhydidn'tyoutellmeabout—"

"Okay," Elena interrupted. "I can't explain everything right now, but he's a good friend of mine I've known for a long time. He was…away, for a while…but he just got back, and if I know Dean…"

She paused, glancing over at him as he talked quietly with Bobby.

"He's going to need some help."

"Help with what?" Val asked, a little more seriously.

"First?" said Elena. "Finding his brother."

"He has…a brother?"

Shit, Elena thought.

"Forget about that for now, just…I'm really sorry but—"

"Say no more," Val said, shaking her head. "I got a hotel about two miles out. You've got my number when things are settled again, and we'll get Mystery Hottie and his brother over to Jesse's."

Jesse's was the club the two had been going to when Val felt like making the drive up to Sioux Falls from Hill City to visit her aunt. Ever since she'd called and got back in touch with Elena, the two had gone almost every Friday and Saturday night. It was a nicer place, and the food was actually decent. Good for dancing and hitting back some shots.

Elena smiled in amusement at what it would be like to get Sam and Dean in there.

"Next time," she said. "Thanks, Val."

"No problem, sweetie," she said with a genuine smile. "Just don't forget lil' old me while you're running around all over town with Mr. Wall of Muscle. I swear to God, the back of that ass—"

"God, please shut up," Elena hissed, and ushered her back into the living room. Dean and Bobby looked up expectantly.

"Sorry I can't stay," Val apologized, "But Lena's got my number whenever you wanna go out for a night on the town."

"Sorry for the short notice," said Bobby. She waved him off with a grin that deepened into a smirk when she caught Dean's eye.

"See ya later, cupcake." She winked again, and followed Elena to the door.

"I'll call you," Elena promised, and Val shook her head. Her smile was affectionate.

"That's what they all say," she teased, but hugged Elena warmly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Shut up," Elena said with a laugh, but waited until Val was in her car before she closed the door, and looked back at Dean and Bobby.

Dean thought she looked tired.

"So," she said airily, "what are we doing?"

"…Well," Dean said eventually. Part of him wanted to say, "You're staying here while Bobby and I…"

But he had a pretty good idea of what that would get him, and Bobby would let her.

One of several phones on Bobby's desk rang before he could answer her, and she picked it up.

"Lieutenant Miller speaking," she said, surprising Dean. He looked over at Bobby, who shrugged.

"I'm not allowed to disclose that, but Special Agent Sands has been handling a case that may or may not be related," she said, sitting down more comfortably in a chair. "If you'd just give him access to those reports…yes, thank you."

She hung up and swiveled around in the chair to face them.

"Since when have you been handling the phones?" Dean asked.

"She came around a couple months ago," said Bobby, "So I put her to work. Can't have a freeloader in my house."

"And cooking and cleaning wasn't enough?" she asked, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Cookin' and cleanin' don't pay the bills," he quipped.

"And hunting does?"

"Wait, wait," Dean interjected. "You've been hunting by yourself?" She rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes. Usually Bobby sends me with whoever needs help with a case every once in a while."

That made Dean feel a little better. At least she had back up most of the time, but she hadn't done what he thought she would do either. What any sane person would do, and…well, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. None of them were the poster children for healthy and balanced.

"Okay…so Bobby told me you were with Sam for a while after…"

Elena's expression dimmed.

"Yeah…" she sighed. "We parted ways a couple months ago…that's when I came here."

"Why, what happened?" Dean pressed, and she gave him a strained look. She wasn't about to tell him his brother had been a wreck and careening down a self-destructive spiral.

"He wanted to keep going by himself." Dean looked incredulous.

"You didn't stop him? Lena—"

"Dean." Her brows furrowed, and he saw thinly veiled pain in her eyes. "How could I?"

…Fair enough, he thought, and after a while, he sighed.

"All right. Well let's find him then."

Dean was able to track Sam's whereabouts to Pontiac, Illinois, the same city where Dean got out of his grave. Considering the state of the burial site, which according to Dean looked like an bomb went off, the fact that Sam was in the area was a red flag. They took Elena's Camaro and drove the nine hours from Sioux Falls to a six out of seven star hotel called Astoria, whose lights flashed brighter than anything else on the block. It was a far cry from the kind of booking any of the hunters were used to, and already it was making Dean feel edgy.

After talking to the desk clerk, they found the room number and tried not to cough at the cloud of perfume swirling around in the elevator, all the way to the third floor. Once reaching Room 307, Dean knocked on the door. Soon enough it opened, revealing a short brunette wearing nothing but a grey tank top and underwear, with a slightly pissy look on her face.

"So…where is it?" she asked. The three looked at one another.

"Where's what?" said Dean.

"The pizza," she said matter-of-factly, "that apparently takes three people to deliver."

"…I think we've got the wrong room," Dean started, until Sam came into view in the doorway. He was wearing loose-fitting clothes, as if he'd just woken up. By the look of the brunette, that might very well have been the case.

"What's…" Sam stopped himself, eyes honed on Dean in blatant shock. He then noticed Elena and Bobby, but returned his gaze to Dean, who smiled softly.

"Hey, Sammy." He stepped inside the room, past the girl, and waited for Sam to relax a little.

Then he found himself being pinned against the wall and fighting off a death stroke via silver knife, and it felt way too much like déjà vu.

"Sam, stop!" he heard Elena shout, but it was Bobby who was able to yank the taller man back, allowing Dean to back away from the wall.

"Who are you!" Sam demanded.

"Like you didn't do this!" Dean shot back.

"Do what?" And that had Dean at a loss.

"Sam, it's Dean," Bobby said through the strain of containing him. "We've been through this already." And despite Sam still holding his knife threateningly, Elena laid a tentative hand on his left shoulder to stay clear of it.

"It's really him," she tried assuring gently. Sam started to calm, but he was still wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

"But…"

"I know," said Dean, and then he grinned a bit, "I look fantastic, huh?"

Sam's lower lip trembled the slightest bit, and finally went forward to hug his brother. Elena had to avert her eyes with the sudden rush of emotion, just barely blinking back tears. Until a voice caught all of their attention.

"So…are you two like…together?" asked the brunette. Sam gave her a quizzical look.

"What? N-No," he said, and then smiled a little as he looked back at Dean. "This is my brother."

"O-Oh. Well…I guess I should go then," she said awkwardly. Maybe she realized she was half-naked in a room full of strangers.

"Uh, yeah…that's probably a good idea," Sam said with an apologetic look, "sorry."

Dean's grin was just a bit wicked when he nodded over at her. But she just raised a brow and changed in the bathroom while Sam put on a shirt that made him look a little more put together, a little more Sam-like.

"So, call me," the girl said with a smile on her way out the door with her purse, now dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. Sam leaned against the doorway.

"Yeah, sure thing, Kathy." Her smile faded.

"Krissy," she corrected, looking disappointed. Sam's smile became a little more strained.

"Right."

She frowned and gave him a parting look before making her way down the hall. Sam closed the door behind her and turned to face the rest of them, all staring at him knowingly. He elected to ignore them and sat near Bobby on the god-awful tiger print couch and started packing his bag.

"So tell me," said Dean, crossing his arms, "How much did it cost?"

Sam looked up in mild surprise.

"The girl?" he laughed. "I don't pay, Dean."

That made Elena feel a little better, to know Sam thought himself above that. But she knew that wasn't what Dean was asking.

"It's not funny, Sam," Dean deadpanned. "To bring me back…what'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby stated, leaving Sam looking dumbfounded.

"Well I didn't."

Don't lie to me," Dean said quietly, but the warning was clear.

"I'm not lying."

"So what now," Dean asked. He got up from where he was leaning on the wall and uncrossed his arms. "I'm off the hook, now you're on, is that it? You some demon's bitch? I didn't want to be saved like this—"

"Look, Dean," Sam cut in, standing to his feet and looking a lot like Elena remembered him when she left him: lost and angry. "I wish I had done it, all right?"

Dean grabbed the front of his brother's shirt, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes.

"There's no other way this could've gone down. Tell the truth."

Sam knocked his hands away angrily.

"I tried everything, that's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right?" Dean started to relent, but Sam wasn't through. "You were rotting in Hell for months,and I couldn't stop it…so I'm sorry it wasn't me…Dean, I'm sorry…"

Dean saw the raw guilt in Sam's eyes, and it tore at him inside. Outwardly though, he just nodded and said, "It's okay, Sammy…"

Sam nodded, but Dean didn't think his brother really believed it.

"You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong," Bobby interjected, "I'm glad that Sam's soul remained intact, but…it does raise a sticky question."

"If he didn't pull me out," said Dean, "then what did?"

Elena took the beer Sam offered her, but right now she couldn't really look at him as he started talking about how he'd tried to track down Lilith after he "figured out" he couldn't save Dean. She didn't know what brought that about, but she could hazard a guess and say it was a couple months ago when she ditched him.

He told you to go, she reminded herself. But for him to say, "I was pretty messed up," was more of an understatement than the two men on either side of her would ever know. And she'd walked away from him. She let Sam drift by himself without anyone to watch his back.

"Anyway, I was out in Tennessee tracking some demons. They took a hard left and lead me back up here."

"When?" Dean asked.

"Yesterday morning."

Dean and Bobby shared a look.

"That's when I busted out."

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked. Dean shrugged; it was a possibility.

"But why?" said Sam.

"…I dunno. Some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

Bobby regarded Dean through slightly narrowed eyes.

"How you feel anyway?"

"…I'm a little hungry."

"No, I mean do you feel like yourself?" Bobby asked. "Anything strange or…different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean finished dryly. "Bobby, how many times do I gotta prove I'm me?"

"Listen, demons ain't lettin' you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. This has gotta be somethin' nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine."

"Okay, well we don't know what they're planning," Sam pointed out. "We've got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

"Like who?" said Elena.

"I know a psychic, few hours from here," said Bobby. "Somethin' this big, maybe she's heard the other side talkin'."

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot," said Dean. Bobby got up to make the call, saying he'd be right back, and Dean got up, only waiting at Sam's insistence.

"You probably want this back," he said, and took Dean's amulet from around his neck and gave handed it to his brother. Dean looked at it in disbelief at first.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yeah, don't mention it…" Dean waited, because he knew that look. Sam was itching to say something.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What was it like?"

"…What, Hell?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know…I don't remember anything," said Dean after glancing over at Elena. She wasn't paying attention, sitting on the couch while idly checking her phone. "I must've blacked it out."

"Well…thank God for that," said Sam with a small smile.

"Yeah…"

A flood of images entered his mind, and he tried hard to shut them out. As long as Sam didn't see anything in his eyes…none of them would ever have to know.

Bobby's friend was about four hours out by the interstate. Elena had been ready to lead the way in her Camaro, until Bobby took the keys from her.

"You ride with them. Make sure they don't stop for too many bathroom breaks."

That old man. He knew her now, and she wasn't altogether used to it. But she was sure he wasn't used to her catching onto him either. In the first few weeks of her staying with him, he'd bring back four to five bottles of assorted liquor at a time, be it whiskey or bourbon or whatever flavor of the night he felt like. Elena left the beer in the fridge, but of the hard stuff, she'd locked all but one of them in one of his old safety boxes and bought a new lock for it. She wouldn't put a new bottle out until he'd been at least three days with the first, and then she kept on adding time in between until he was down to just beer and a fifth of whiskey a couple times a week.

Somehow it worked. He never once picked the lock, even though she knew he could have easily broken it open.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," said Dean. "The night I bit it…or got bit."

No one laughed at the "joke."

"How'd you make it out?" he asked Sam. "I thought Lilith was gonna kill you."

"Lilith?" asked Elena.

"Oh…yeah, you weren't there for that," Dean explained. "Lilith took over Ruby's meat suite before she sicked her dogs on me. But she was headed for Sam next."

"Yeah, she tried, but she couldn't," said Sam.

"What do you mean she couldn't?"

"She fired this like…burning light at me, and…it didn't leave a scratch," he said. "Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?" Elena asked.

"Yeah…I don't know who was more surprised, her or me." He sighed. "She left pretty fast after that."

"Huh…how about Ruby, where is she?" said Dean.

"Dead, probably," Sam said with a shrug. Dean nodded.

"So you've been using your freaky ESP stuff?" Sam looked at his brother incredulously.

"No." Dean gave him a sideways look.

"You sure about that?" he asked, "I mean, now that you've got…immunity, or whatever that is. Just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said in exasperation. "Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

Dean nodded, turning back to the road.

"Yeah well, let's keep it that way."

Pamela Barnes was five feet and seven inches of spitfire, and the Winchesters and Elena knew it from the moment she opened her front door and hefted Bobby into a crushing hug, then invited the rest of them in with a flirtatious smirk toward the boys.

"So you hear anything?" Bobby asked.

"Well, I Ouija-ed my way through a dozen spirits," she said, closing the front door behind her, "but no one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why."

"So what's next?"

"A séance I think. See if we can see who did the deed."

"You're not gonna summon the damn thing here…"

"No," she grinned, and walked past them into the next room, "I just want to get a sneak peak at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

Sam and Dean shared a look and shrugged.

"I'm game," said Dean, and started following her with Sam behind him. Elena caught Bobby's pensive look.

"What're you thinking?" she asked quietly. He looked back at her and frowned.

"I dunno."

"There's still time to pull back from this," she reminded him.

"Should be harmless enough," he said after a moment, "if we're careful."

"His loss," Elena heard Dean say as she and Bobby walked into a room of bookshelves and a round table in the center, and Pamela looking up at Dean with a candle in her hand.

"…Could be your gain," she said, eyes roaming his body appreciatively before setting the candle on the black cloth-covered table. Elena rolled her eyes at the look on Dean's face when he and Sam turned around, whispering to one another like high school girls. She busied herself by helping Bobby close the curtains.

"You're invited too, Grumpy," said Pamela. She winked at Sam and went to retrieve more ingredients from the shelves. Dean looked over at Sam sharply.

"You are not invited," he hissed. Elena failed to smother a snicker at Dean's expense, and he glanced at her sheepishly as she raised a brow at him.

When they were all sitting around the table, Pamela instructed them to hold each other's hand.

"Now, I need to touch something our mystery monster's touched."

Dean's knee jerked, hitting the table as he jumped a bit.

"Whoa, he definitely didn't touch me there!"

"My mistake," she laughed. Sam had to look down as he fought a smile, and Elena shook her head while Bobby rolled his eyes. But all mirth died the moment Dean shrugged his jacket off and rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a large, red handprint of raised flesh on his shoulder. It startled both Sam and Elena, who stared at it with wide eyes.

Even Pamela's playful mood dimmed into seriousness as she laid her hand gently on it and began the séance.

"I invoke, conjure and command you, show me your face," she repeated the phrase over and over, earning the name "Castiel," and a warning to turn back. The table and walls shook as she kept going, and the rest of them looked at one another in apprehension.

"Maybe we should stop," Bobby interjected. He had a bad feeling.

"I've almost got it," she refuted, and kept up her mantra. "I command you, show me your face! Show me your face, now—"

The flames from the candles in the center of the table shot upward, and the sound of something being seared echoed in the room, along with Pamela's agonized screams. Blood streamed from her eyes as she looked into the fire and she slumped, falling from her chair onto the floor. Bobby immediately went to her.

"Call 9-1-1," he barked, and Sam got his phone out. Dean and Elena knelt beside where Bobby held Pamela. Her eyelids were severely burnt, and when she tried opening her eyes, they were hollow.

"Oh God, I can't see," she gasped, sobbing without tears.

"I can't see!"