AN: Thank you to those who reviewed on the last chapter. Your feedback was really appreciated!

ElectroKate: Thanks so much! It's definitely worth it, and I'm glad you like how I'm developing her character. I'm trying to make her a bit more three-dimensional than some of the OC stories I've been reading while still keeping the brothers and Bobby and everyone else in character.

Do You Recall

XI: Edge of the Blade

Dean and Elena sat in a nearly empty diner, dejected and guilty. Sam came back to the table after hanging up his phone with news that Pam was stable in ICU. And because of them, she was blind.

"And we still have no clue what we're dealing with," said Sam.

"That's not entirely true," said Dean. "We've got a name, Castiel or whatever. With the right mumbo jumbo we can summon him, bring him right to us."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Elena asked him incredulously.

"You're crazy, absolutely not," Sam agreed.

"We'll work him over, after what he did—"

"Pam took a peek at him and he burnt her eyes out of her skull, and you want to face him?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do," Sam said. "I followed a bunch of demons to town, right?"

"Okay," Dean followed.

"So, we go find 'em. Someone's gotta know something about something."

"That makes sense," said Elena.

A waitress came over and slid three slices of blueberry pie in front of each of them.

"Thanks," said Dean, but then she sat in the fourth seat between Elena and Sam, folding her hands in her lap and smiling at them. Dean smiled back, though he was a bit confused.

"You anglin' for a tip?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought you were looking for us."

Her eyes flashed black as pitch. A hand gripped Elena's elbow and she subconsciously followed its backward tug.

A man in an electrician's uniform went to the front door and locked it, and stayed between their table and the door.

"Dean," said the smiling demon. "To Hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck?"

Dean inclined his head.

"That's me."

"So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me, what makes you so special?"

"I liked to think it's because of my perky nipples." He grinned, but the demon only stared impassively.

"I don't know," he admitted flatly. "Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out."

"Right, you don't," she said skeptically.

"No, I don't."

"Lying's a sin, you know."

"I'm not lying," Dean said, smiling a little though the tense edge never left his expression. He glanced at her nametag. "So if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo."

"Mind your tone with me, boy," she said coolly, tilting her head. "I'll drag you back to Hell myself."

Sam, in anger, started to get up at the threat, but Dean held up a hand at him, silently telling him to wait. He let go of Elena's arm and smirked.

"No you won't."

"I won't?" Flo asked, smirking back at him.

"No. 'Cause if you were you would've done it already," he said. "Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. You're just as spooked as we are. And you're lookin' for answers."

The demon's gaze shifted from Dean to Sam, to Elena, and back to Dean.

"Maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Hmm? Or…Godzilla," he wisecracked. "Or some big bad boss demon, but I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. 'Cause whoever it was, they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you."

The demon stared. Her silence was more telling than if she'd spoken.

"So go ahead, send me back. But don't come crawlin' to me when they show up on your front doorstep with vaseline and a fire hose," he smirked.

"I'm gunna reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," she threatened. Elena knew it was an empty threat, but it still made a chill run up her spine. Sam was similarly on edge, but Dean didn't even blink. He stood up, walked over to the demon, and slapped her across the face. Her head whipped to the side, but she looked back at him with a tight expression. He slapped her again, and still, she stayed where she was, though her eyes burned with fury.

"That's what I thought," said Dean, then turned to Sam and Elena. "Let's go."

They got up and waited for Dean, who pulled out a ten dollar bill and set it on the table.

"For the pie."

Once they were outside, Elena could breathe.

"Hoooly shit that was close," said Dean as they crossed the street. She turned to him angrily.

"Then why'd you fucking egg her on like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You're alive, aren't you?" he pointed out, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"We're just going to leave 'em in there?" Sam asked. They began walking down the sidewalk toward where they parked the Impala.

"There are at least three of them, probably more. And we've only got one knife between us so yeah," said Dean.

"I've been killing a lot more demons than that recently."

"Not anymore. The smarter brother's back in town."

"Dean, we've got to take them down, they're dangerous," Sam insisted.

"They're scared. Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out," said Dean. "We're dealing with one bad mofo here. One job at a time."

When they got back to the hotel it was around seven, and though they were all exhausted, the night was young enough for a few hours of research. Hopefully they could find something about what kind of creature was powerful enough to yank a soul out of Hell and completely heal Dean's body. Elena sat on the couch next to Sam, book in hand while he scrolled on his laptop. Dean was in the shower, warbling loudly and out of tune to what sounded suspiciously like a Michael Jackson song.

"What?" Sam asked her. Her eyes flicked to him in surprise.

Oh.

She hadn't realized she'd been snickering out loud.

"Dean borrowed my iPod earlier to help him focus. He must've had the shuffle on by mistake," she said with a grin. The man could take apart ten different gun models and reassemble them without a hitch, but he couldn't figure out an MP3 player.

"Don't blame it on the…sunshine, don't blame it on the moon times…don't blame it on the food rhymes…"

Sam smiled in amusement as the tune of the song became vaguely familiar, no matter how much the lyrics were being botched.

"Really," he asked wryly. "'Blame it on the Boogie?'"

She shrugged.

"Makes me wanna boogie."

He shook his head and grinned a bit. Soon enough, it faded.

"Lena…"

She glanced over and frowned at seeing the solemn shift in his demeanor.

"What's the matter?"

He didn't answer at first, but he closed his laptop. After a few beats of looking down at it, gathering his thoughts, he looked up at her.

"Last time we saw each other, I said some things…"

Her expression softened, and she restrained a sigh.

"Sam—"

"Things I'm not proud of. I hurt you and I'm sorry," he continued with a sigh, wiping a hand over his tired face. "I just…Dean was gone and I…I didn't think how you were probably hurting too."

She shook her head.

"Can't say I was exactly there for you either, Sam," she said sadly, regret clear to him in her eyes. "I'm the one who left you there. Didn't even call to make sure you were okay."

"I didn't give you much choice, though. Did I?"

"You were angry, I knew that."

"And you were just trying the best you could," said Sam. She smiled a little, shaking her head.

"Looks like neither one of us have been so great, huh?"

His small smile was soft.

"I guess not."

"What're we talkin' about here?"

Elena smiled in amusement.

"Nothing, Dean," said Sam. He and Elena shared a look as he opened his laptop again.

And then Dean squeezed onto the couch by Elena, forcing her into the middle.

"Ack, what the hell, Dean? Can't you get your own chair?" she complained as he practically sat on her right side.

"This is more comfortable."

Elena rolled her eyes and shoved at him, and he waggled his eyebrows when she couldn't get him to budge. That's when Sam decided to get up.

"It's all right, I was going to go shower anyway."

That let Elena push free from Dean and claim the other end. He laughed at her, to which she maturely stuck her tongue out at him. Dean crossed his arms and put up his feet across the couch's length so she only had about half of her cushion.

"Hey! Get your nasty feet out of my bubble."

"They're clean," he protested. "I just took a shower."

Then she smirked.

"Well mine aren't." She kicked off her shoes and crossed her ankles over his lap. His face screwed in disgust and he moved his hands away from touching them.

"What are you two, four?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Get your stank-ass feet out of my face!"

"Only if you move over! I can't concentrate if I'm not comfortable."

"Well excuse me, princess."

"Yeah, excuse you, so move over!"

"What's the magic word?" Dean sassed.

"Move the fuck over before I strangle you!" He grinned lasciviously.

"Mm, kinky." She immediately pulled her legs toward her and slapped his thigh.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"I'm leaving," Sam said, though he was sure neither of them heard him. He shook his head all the way to the bathroom.

Dean was snoring lightly on the couch by the time Elena remembered she hadn't showered yet, and that made her feel dirtier. She closed the book in her hands (not that she'd made any more headway in the past hour than she had before) and grabbed a change of clothes.

"I'm gonna shower," she whispered to Sam, not wanting to wake Dean up. It had been a long day for him. For all of them.

Sam nodded, and she closed the door behind her. She was too tired to bother washing her hair, so she settled for throwing it in a bun and taking a five-minute shower to wash all the grime of the day, and she put on some grey sweatpants and a blue t-shirt over her underwear. Her used clothes she threw in a plastic bag to be washed later.

A tremor shook the bathroom walls, and she stilled.

Are there earthquakes in Illinois? Maybe, but with their luck, she doubted it was something that minor.

She rushed out of the bathroom and saw Dean awake and standing at the ready with his gun, but Sam was nowhere to be found.

"What's happening?" she asked him in alarm. The TV was going haywire while a whirring sound reverberated in the room.

"I don't know, get over here!" he shouted over the sound, and pointed his gun at the front door. But the high-pitched whine only grew louder, so loud that he was forced to press both his hands over his ears and eventually drop his gun. Distantly he could hear Elena's strain to block it out in a pain-filled groan, and the two of them were forced to their knees by it.

Then mirrors started to shatter.

Glass rained down and blew out at them from behind. Dean grabbed her and threw them as far left as he could when a large mirror to their right shot glass straight at them. They landed painfully on the floor that was already littered with it, and it bit into their skin, even as blood started trickling down from their ears at the piercing, high-frequency sound. He shielded Elena the best he could without squishing her into the biting shards.

"DEAN!" He heard it just over the whirring, "ELENA!"

Bobby.

He was pulled up from the floor by his arms and he was able to stand, but he only stumbled out of the ruined hotel room when he saw Bobby similarly hefting Elena to her feet. Once into the hallway, down the elevator and in the Camaro, he allowed himself to relax. The Impala was gone, Sam along with it most likely. Elena breathed heavily in the backseat while they waited for Bobby to come back with towels to clean off the blood.

"You okay?" he asked.

She sighed. "I'm okay."

Her arms were cut to hell. Bobby had just finished getting all of the glass out, including a chunk that had gotten itself lodged in her shoulder when she and Dean had been forced to throw themselves away from the blast.

Soon enough though, Bobby was back with damp towels for both of them.

"We'll stop at a CVS and get some other stuff," he said climbing into the driver's seat and ran a search for the store on Elena's GPS that was attached under the radio.

Turns out they're good for something, he thought. Go figure.

He started the car and drove away from the hotel. Things were quiet for a while, the road stretching in front of them illuminated by brightly colored city lights.

"You kids all right?" he asked. He made sure to glance at the GPS directions every now and then to make sure he was headed the right way.

"'Sides the church bells ringing in my ears," Dean said dryly. "Peachy."

He took out his cell phone and dialed his brother.

"Hey."

"Where are you?"

"Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger."

"In my car?"

"Force of habit, sorry," said Sam. "What are you doing up?"

"Well, Bobby's back. We're gonna go get a beer," Dean said, looking over at Bobby who gave him an incredulous look.

"All right. Well, uh…spill some for me."

"Done, I'll catch ya later," Dean said, and hung up.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby asked.

"Because he'd just try to stop us."

"From what?" Elena asked.

"Summoning this thing," Dean said, "It's time we face it head on."

"You can't be serious," Bobby exclaimed.

"As a heart attack," he said, then grinned. "And it's high noon."

"We don't know what it is! It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we gotta be ready for anything," Dean said, and pulled out Ruby's knife.

"We got the big time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk…"

Bobby gestured with his thumb to Elena in the backseat.

"She's still bleedin' on the seats. I'm stoppin' for a first aid kit."

Dean glanced back at Elena through the side mirror and saw her frowning, still pressing the towel against her cuts. She was still bleeding, and he felt a bit guilty for that. Whatever it was, it had been trying to get to him and caught her in the middle.

"I know. We'll go there first, then deal with this thing."

"…This is a bad idea."

"I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?"

"We can choose life," Bobby remarked.

"Bobby, whatever this thing wants it's after me. That much we know, right?" said Dean. "I need someplace to hide. I can get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam for this," Bobby said, trying to reason with him.

"Nah," said Dean. "He's better off where he is."

"That's a hell of an art project you've got going there," Dean commented. He added yet another knife to the arsenal on the table while Elena surveyed the empty storage shack in appreciation, spray bottle in hand. She'd helped with a good portion of it, but she'd had to study the books closely to even have a prayer of drawing the ancient symbols correctly. The walls and floor were entirely covered with wards.

"Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe," said Bobby. "How you doin'?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, the knife, I mean," said Dean, pointing to each one, "We're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a bad idea."

"Yeah, Bobby. I heard you the first ten times." Bobby gave him a firm look at the sass mouthing, but Dean continued, "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby held his start for a second longer before moving to the other table full of ingredients to perform the spell. The three of them unconsciously held their breath…but nothing happened. Bobby whistled a tune while they sat on the edge of the tables and waited. And waited.

And waited.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked, losing his patience. Bobby gave him an exasperated look. Elena smiled in amusement.

"Sorry…" said Dean. "Touchy, touchy, eh?"

And then the shutters on the roof banged open and closed, as if a storm were coming through. They were on their feet and armed at the ready, taking in their surroundings for anything breaking through.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," said Dean.

"Yeah, wishful thinking," Elena nodded. One by one the lights went out, forcing them to duck away from the sparks, and the wooden doors flew open despite being previously latched.

A man stepped forward. A dark-haired man wearing a trench coat over slacks and a loosened tie, who came steadily but calmly, not fazed in the least by the several bullets that cut into his chest and abdomen. He seemed almost sorry that they'd wasted the ammo, and continued toward them even as Dean grabbed the knife and held it behind his back. He moved along with the stranger, back-stepping and circling around.

"Who are you?"

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." The voice was cool, only slightly higher than Dean's and possessing grit.

"Yeah…thanks for that."

The man, who Elena could only assume was Castiel, looked down at the knife Dean embedded in his heart and smiled, just a little. He pulled it out and dropped to the floor, then blocked the crowbar Bobby attacked him with and touched his forehead with two fingers. Bobby's eyes rolled into his head as he slumped to the floor.

"Bobby!" Elena exclaimed, but Dean grabbed her arm before she could cross the creature to get to her uncle.

"Wait, damn it," he commanded, and she reluctantly stayed close to him. The "man" turned around.

"We need to talk, Dean," he said, and his eyes settled on Elena. "Alone."

Dean shoved her behind him.

"Oh no, no fucking way—"

"Your friend's alive."

"Just unconscious," Elena spat, though knowing Bobby was okay relieved her a great deal.

"He's unharmed," Castiel said mildly. Then in a blink he was gone, leaving the two searching the room with their eyes. Elena turned and gasped. She was face to face with deep blue eyes and a hand reaching for her.

And then there was nothing at all.

She woke up in the dark. For a moment it was cavern walls surrounding her with the smell of dirt and sweat and blood filling her nose. Her throat clamped shut as the hairs on her arms raised, her breaths coming out quick and shallow.

"Elena."

She blinked and the roof of her Camaro came into view.

"You awake back there?"

Elena swallowed past the lump in her throat and sat up. Her fingers pressed into the familiar material of the car's interior.

"Yeah," she croaked, and met Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. They stared intently, flicking to the road and back.

"You all right?" Bobby looked at her over his shoulder from the passenger seat.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Long story," said Dean.

"Give me the short version." He seemed hesitant, so Bobby, not one to beat around the bush and also probably knowing the reason why Dean was holding back, said,

"His name's Castiel…and he claims to be an angel."

Her jaw slackened. Mouth parting, Elena blinked, but wasn't able to form the words. At least, not at first.

"I'm sorry, I think I must've hit my head when he fucking mind-drugged me. Are you saying…"

"Like, servant of Heaven, angel," Bobby sent Dean a sideways look. "Apparently, he had wings."

"…Wings," she deadpanned. Dean's expression was hard and focused solely on the road, but his hands clenched the steering wheel. Bobby wasn't kidding.

…Wings. Angels. Heaven…

She supposed the countless Sundays of Mass her mom dragged her to when she was younger was good for something after all.

"I need a drink," she muttered.

"Get in line," Dean said as Bobby snorted.

"…Where are we going then?"

"To go get Sam," said Bobby. "Then head back to my place." Dean didn't look excited about it.

"Because he'll be so happy about this," she said, raising a brow at him through the rearview. His mouth tugged downward, just shy of a grimace. "Did…Castiel, say why he did it?"

Dean hesitated, and it made her both curious and concerned.

"Dean?"

"…I'd rather not have to say it twice."

After a moment, she nodded in acceptance. Elena wouldn't push him. Not if he would tell her eventually.

Surprise, Sam wasn't happy. At least, not at first. Sure he'd been angry that Dean had left him out and all of them could've been killed, but after explaining Castiel's apparent holy mission from Heaven and God's apparent "plan" for Dean, he started getting enthusiastic once Bobby established that an angel was virtually the only explanation for what Castiel was. Nothing else, no demon or creature from the lowest depths of the earth, had the power to pull out a soul from Hell. But if there were angels, there was a decent chance there was a God, too. Sam pointed out that maybe it was the good guys giving them a little help for a change.

Dean was less than enthused.

"Look, I know you're not all choir boy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?" Dean said incredulously.

"Yes."

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally?" Dean asked. He shook his head in refusal. "I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it!"

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because why me?" Dean said, looking at each of them. "If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me? I mean I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the—the stealing and the chicks, but why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy."

Elena shook her head with a melancholic frown. Everyone in this room but him knew that wasn't true.

"Well, apparently you're a regular guy who's important to the Guy Upstairs," Sam remarked. Dean looked put off by that.

"Well that creeps me out," he said. "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, let alone by…God."

"Okay, well too bad, Dean. Because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

Dean crossed his arms, cleared his throat a little, then looked over at Bobby.

"All right then...fine. What do we know about angels?"

Bobby gave a flat look as he hefted five large, dusty tomes onto the desk he was sitting at.

"Start reading."

Elena sighed. Dean slipped the thinnest one from the top. He then pointed at Sam.

"You're gonna get me some pie."

Sam rolled his eyes and met Elena's, the two of them sharing amused looks.

"What do you think of all this?" he asked her. She was hesitant to reply at first, but eventually she crossed her arms and said,

"I think you're right," she admitted. "But I understand why he's not completely on board with the idea."

"Fair enough," he nodded, then grabbed the keys to the Impala. "Wanna come?"

"Nah, I'll stick around," she said with a small grin. "Make sure he's working."

"I don't see you reading anything!" Dean's voice called from the living room. She rolled her eyes again and picked up an ancient book from the pile.

"Keep your panties on," she teased and sat next to him on the couch. He sent her a look, but didn't say anything.

Sam shook his head.

"I'll be back," he said to Bobby, and shut the door behind him.

"Don't forget the chips," said Dean.

"Yes, Dean. I'll get the chips."

"Would you leave him alone already?" Elena snapped. "You've called him three times."

"And don't forget my pie," he added.

"Dean, when have I ever forgotten the pie?"

"Uh…"

"Exactly."

"Get apple if they have it…or wait, I'm feeling like cherry."

"Fine…uh, I gotta go."

"All right, see ya."

"Yeah, bye."

"All right, enough about pie already," Elena muttered.

Dean raised a brow at her.

"What are you so pissy about?" he asked. "I told him to get your damn Cheez-Its."

She huffed, but couldn't exactly contradict him. Cheez-Its were her favorite snack food, and he'd told Sam to get them without even having to ask if she'd want some.

"Keep in mind, I'll be wanting some."

"Uh, no. If you get a hold of 'em there'll be nothing left by the time I get there."

"Aw, that's not true," he refuted.

"No?" she asked. "Then why are the Snickers and Milkyways I keep in my bag always gone, or bitten into?"

Dean tried and failed for innocent.

"And you leave the fucking wrapper so my clothes get chocolatey," she complained. He sighed, not bothering to deny it.

"How would you like it if I ate your pie?" Elena asked, and he froze. His eyes slid to her face comically, but his expression was so serious, it made her restrain her laugh.

"You laugh now…" Dean trailed.

Elena smirked coolly and went back to her reading. Informative stuff, as she was getting back to the New King James Version of the Bible and reading verses her phone had spat out at her.

"This almost feels like…" But she stopped herself. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Then Dean looked over at her.

"Like what?"

"…Like when it was me and my dad," she said, lowering her eyes to the coffee table. "I'd sit and turn page after page and research for the case, or for my classes."

"Right, 'cause you were taking 'em online," he said.

"Yeah…it was hard as hell. Especially with us being on the road all the time."

"Why'd you do it then?" he asked. "From what you told me back then, you didn't really want to deal with college."

She smiled ruefully.

"It was the only way he'd let me come with him."

"…Hmm," Dean nodded after a moment. "For the record, not that I ever really cared about going to college…but I kinda wish my dad had cared more about that stuff."

She looked over at him, trying to hide her surprise.

"Yeah?"

He got a little smile on his face.

"Yeah. Maybe I could've…I dunno…" He scratched the back of his head. "But I wish Dad would've lightened up…for Sam's sake, ya know?"

She understood. Sam wanting to go to school shouldn't have been as taboo as John Winchester had made it seem. For him to want more than hunting for the rest of his life made sense. Sam was smart, and talented in ways Elena knew she'd never be. He would've made a good lawyer if he'd ever gotten the chance.

"Yeah…I never really thought about what I wanted to be," she confessed. "My mom was a dancer, later turned high school dance teacher. I used to watch old tapes of her company while she was in college. I've got two left feet, but I used to pretend…"

Elena stopped herself with a laugh.

"I sound like such a girl."

Dean quirked a grin.

"No, no, go on. This should be good," he said. "With the tutu and everything, right?"

She shot him a side glance, but her smile remained in place.

"Yeah, no. I guess…I just," she trailed, "she was beautiful. Grace and poise and all that. I just wished I'd gotten some of that."

"Aw, what do you mean?" he said, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You look just like your mom."

She gave him a confused look.

"How do you know what she looks like?"

"I saw the pictures in your house." She had dark hair, just like Elena. And they had the same expressive eyes. The memory of the picture was faded, but he might've remembered seeing Elena's smile on an older, more mature-looking woman.

"She was hot," he said honestly. It made Elena roll her eyes and smile a little.

"She probably would've liked you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she was fun, always hopping from one thing to the next," Elena's smile grew fonder. "My dad could hardly keep up sometimes, but he could never say no to anything she did either."

"Hm, sounds about right," he said with a grin. "You'd have to get it from somewhere."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed.

"So, you telling me you're little miss Dancing Queen?" Dean asked, raising his brows. Elena rolled her eyes.

"Nah. But I always wished I was more like my mom," she admitted. And less like her father.

Before he could answer her, Bobby walked into the room.

"Hey." He looked like he'd just gotten off the phone. "I have a friend, Olivia Lowry. I've been trying to reach her for three days for some help on this angel front. She hasn't called back and it's unlike her."

"Okay, are we going to go check on her?" Elena asked. She'd worked with Liv last month while helping out Bobby; great hunter, and she really knew how to throw back bourbon.

"Yeah, go grab your stuff if you're coming," he said. "We'll wait for Sam."

Not only did Sam forget the pie, but they found Olivia Lowry in the middle of her living room, lying dead in a pool of her own blood. There was a gaping hole where her stomach should've been, and her entire right arm was missing, torn off raggedly. Bobby had to leave the room angrily, while Elena had to avert her eyes. Maybe this was what her dad meant when he said she didn't have the stomach for the Job, because she was almost ready to throw up.

"What did this?" she murmured. Sam examined Olivia's closet—a hidden arsenal with the door left wide open, and found an EMF meter strewn about haphazardly.

"Vengeful spirit activity," he concluded solemnly.

"Yeah, on steroids…" Dean trailed. "I've never seen a ghost do this to a person."

Bobby came back in, closing the door behind him. He still looked pale, but more composed than before.

"Bobby, you all right?" Dean asked.

"I just called some hunters nearby."

"Good…we could use some help."

"Except they're not answering their phones either."

"…There's something going down, isn't there?" Sam asked. Bobby looked up from Olivia's body at him. His grief was expertly hidden, only revealed in his surly tone.

"You think?"