AN: Thanks to the two Guests who reviewed. To answer the first Guest, the time IS nigh…somewhat. *cue maniacal laughter* But I'm glad you're on the edge of your seat. To the second Guest, classic rock happens to be my favorite genre of music and fits SPN way too well not to use it. ;)

Do You Recall

XV: Something to Hide

Despite what Dean would like her to believe, Elena was not an idiot. She could see that his nightmares were memories, not random dreams. And certainly "nothing to worry about."

But she did agree with him about Ruby, and didn't trust her, even if she claimed to be helping Sam. Sam was all too willing to search out her hunch on Anna Milton, a girl that escaped a psychiatric ward. Some demons were after her with orders not to kill for once. Not suspicious at all.

Sam found that not only was she a real person who had escaped the ward, but the orderly she knocked out in the process had no recollection of going into her room. After her doctor gave them Anna's journal filled with drawing of the Biblical seals being broken, then told them of Anna's paranoia of the Devil rising to start the Apocalypse, both Dean and Elena were forced to concede that the case was definitely real.

Next they went to Anna's parents' home—a friendly-looking house with no one answering the unlocked front door. It was the kind of house that looked and felt like a home. Cozy, with floral-patterned curtains.

But Anna's parents were lying on the floor in pools of their own blood, their throats cut and remnants of sulfur dusting the polished wood flooring. The demons had clearly beaten them there, but the question was, where would Anna go if not to her parents' house?

"Hey, do you still have her sketches?" Sam asked Dean while looking at a family picture.

"Yeah." Dean handed them over.

"Check this out," said Sam. He held a photo of the Miltons with Anna, all smiling and standing in front of what looked to be a church, most likely the church her father was pastor of. The painted glass window on the building was identical with one of the drawings in the journal.

"She was drawing it over and over," he said. "If you were religious, scared, and had demons on your ass, where would you go to feel safe?"

The church was old, though it looked to have been painted fairly recently. There was a set of stairs inside that climbed to the height of the building, and they went up cautiously with weapons drawn. For all they knew, demons could be there already. They reached the attic, where the window allowed sunlight to seep in through its painted colors. There were chairs, knickknacks, a statue of a woman (most likely Mother Mary), and storage bins littering the place, and a glass wall painted similarly to the window. They put away their guns when they saw Anna through it.

She heard them coming, and they saw her hasten away from the glass.

"Anna?" said Sam. "We're not going to hurt you…we're here to help."

When she didn't answer, they continued looking around for her.

"We're here to help," he repeated. "…I'm Sam, and this is Dean, my brother, and Elena."

"Sam?" came the scared reply. "Not Sam Winchester."

They looked at one another in confusion.

"Um…yeah."

Anna stepped out, her expression fading from fear to tentative hope.

"And you're Dean," she said, almost disbelieving. "The Dean."

Dean's eyes widened.

"Well, yeah…the Dean, I guess," he said, and couldn't help a grin that made both Elena and Sam roll their eyes. Elena's was more with annoyance.

"It's really you," Anna said, a bit breathless. She began walking toward them. "Oh my God."

For a moment Dean's grin deepened, until the confusion and wariness set in. This chick had been in a psych ward for almost four months.

"The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out. And some of them think you can help save us," then she looked over at Sam. "And some of them don't like you at all."

Sam's expression fell flat, but she continued talking. To Elena, it looked like they'd opened a can of worms.

"They've been talking about you all the time recently," she told them, awe coloring her tone. "I feel like I know you."

"So you talk to angels?" Elena asked.

"Uh—no, no. They probably don't even know I exist," she explained. "I just, kind of…overhear them."

"You overhear them?" Sam repeated, asking for clarification.

"Yeah, they talk and…sometimes I just hear them in my head."

"Like…right now?" Dean asked.

"Not right this second, but a lot, and I can't shut them out. There's so many of them."

"So they lock you up with a case of the crazies when you were just…tuning into Angel Radio?" Dean said with an incredulous smile. Anna looked like she'd never heard it put quite like that, but was grateful for someone who understood and believed her.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Anna, when did the voices start, do you remember?" Sam asked.

"I can tell you exactly," she said. "July 18."

Sam and Dean glanced at one another with grim realization.

"The day I got out," Dean mused.

"First words I heard, clear as a bell," said Anna. "'Dean Winchester is saved.'"

Dean glanced at Elena, then to Sam, who was nodding.

"What do you think?" Sam breathed a laugh.

"It's above my pay grade, man."

Dean turned to Elena, who shrugged. "Sounds legit to me."

"At least now we know why the demons want you so bad," said Dean. "Get a hold of you, and they can hear everything the other side's cooking. You're 1.900-Angel."

Anna smiled, but then a thought seemed to come to her.

"Oh, hey. Um, do you know if my parents are okay? I didn't go home."

Before they could answer, Ruby came through the door, looking harried.

"You got the girl? Good, we gotta go."

Anna backed away with wide eyes, in horror at the demon's face even as Sam tried to assure her that she was there to help.

"Don't be so sure," Dean groused.

"We've gotta hurry!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Why?"

"Because a demon's coming big time and we can fight later, Dean."

"Well, that's pretty convenient. Showin' up right when we find the girl with some big wig on your tail."

"I didn't bring him here, you did."

"What?"

"They followed you from the girl's house, we gotta go now!"

"Dean," Sam cut in and got his brother's attention. The statue they'd seen when they came in was crying blood, if that were possible.

"It's too late," said Ruby. Her fear showed on her face. "He's here."

Sam wasted no time in leading Anna away, having her hide in a closet to the right. He then took out a silver flask of holy water and began to unscrew it.

"No, Sam. You've gotta pull him right away," said Ruby.

"What are you talking about?" asked Elena, while Dean said at the same time,

"Whoa, hold on a sec—"

"Now is not the time to bellyache about Sam going dark side," Ruby cut him off. "He does his thing, exorcises that demon, or we die."

Elena and Dean looked up at Sam with similar expressions of unease, but Sam put his flask away and faced the door. It wasn't long before the door burst open, revealing a well-dressed man in his late fifties, hair grayed at the temples. He strolled in with a confidence that never wavered, and when he regarded them coolly, there was an unmistakable darkness in his gaze.

Sam raised his hand and tried to use his power, but the demon's eyes rolled back white as he adjusted his tie, nearly unfazed as icy blue pupils rolled back to normal.

"Hmm, well that tickled," he said, and began to step forward. "You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam."

With the wave of a hand, Sam was pulled forward and thrown down the stairs. Before Elena could shoot a salt round, she was tossed into some plastic storage bins and old pottery, leaving Dean to brandish Ruby's knife while Ruby herself went after Anna.

"Nice to see you again, Dean," the other demon hissed, and backed Dean into one of the attic's supportive beams. Punch after punch to the face made him drop the knife.

"Don't you recognize me?" the demon asked, pausing in his assault. "Oh, no. I forgot. I'm wearing a pediatrician."

Blood drizzled from the corner of Dean's mouth and from his nose as the demon landed more blows.

"But we were so close…in Hell."

Another punch had Dean seeing spots at the edge of his vision, but memory after memory clicked in place, along with a weight in his gut that felt a lot like dread.

"…Alastair."

The demon smiled, then chuckled and would've continued, if not for Sam who grabbed Alastair's shoulder and stabbed him in the heart with the knife. It crackled with power, but Alastair only chuckled again.

"Gotta do a lot better than that, Sam."

His blow to the cheek sent Sam careening back, but it was enough distraction for Elena to help Dean up as he gripped his ribs. With Alastair struggling to take out the knife embedded in his chest, Sam found his balance again and steadied Dean and Elena. The glass window was the only exit. They looked to one another.

Then they jumped.

Dean washed his bloody mouth out in the dirty motel sink with his arm pinned to his side while Elena stitched a long cut on Sam's arm. It seeped with blood, but the stitches were even.

"You almost done with that?" Dean asked. He came back into the room and picked up a bottle of some kind of booze, taking long gulps. It wasn't numbing the pain well enough.

"Yeah," she said over Sam's small gasps of pain. "Going as fast as I can."

"Good. Cause I've got a dislocated shoulder over here."

"I'll pop it back when she's finished," Sam said with another short gasp. Once Elena tied the final knot and clipped it, he looked over at the large green bottle in Dean's hand.

"Give me that," said Sam, reaching out for it with his good arm. Dean handed it over and watched as Sam poured a bit over the wound with a hiss. Elena's brows furrowed, and with one leg she pushed away from the bed he was sitting on from the chair she was in. The other she'd wrapped tightly from half her calf to mid-thigh, so her knee wouldn't move an inch. Unfortunately, pushing back didn't get her very far and some of what she thought was bourbon splashed on her immovable leg.

"So you lost the magic knife, huh?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, saving your ass," Sam snapped back. "Who the hell was that demon?"

"No one good," Dean answered. "We gotta find Anna."

"Ruby's got her. I'm sure she's okay." Sam set the bottle down on the floor and heaved himself to his feet. "All right, come on."

He helped Elena get out of the chair and walked her over to the other chair at the plastic table by the window, so she could take care of a cut on her brow and splinters from the crates. Dean sat in her vacant seat and steeled himself.

"On three," Sam said. "One—"

Dean's shoulder popped back into place with an audible crack and he couldn't contain a shout of pain. He had to get up and pace toward the bathroom to walk it off. Elena didn't envy him. The sickening squelch of his shoulder popping back in made her nauseous.

"Are you sure about Ruby?" Dean asked with labored breath, after he'd recovered somewhat. Sam didn't respond, just pressed a towel to his bloody arm. "You know, I think it's just as likely that she used us to find Radio Girl, then brought that demon in to kill us."

"No, she took Anna to keep her safe."

Dean nodded with a huff of disbelief and pressed an ice pack to his shoulder.

"Yeah? Then why hasn't she called to tell us where she is?"

"Because that demon is probably watching us right now," Sam said, his voice rising with annoyance. How many times did they have to have the same damn conversation?

"Waiting to follow us right back to Anna again." he added. "That's why he let us go."

Dean let out a humorless chuckle. "You call this letting us go?"

"Yeah, I do. Look, killing us would've been no problem to that thing. That's why we've gotta lay low and wait for Ruby to call us."

"Yeah, and how's she gonna do that?" Dean turned around and came closer to the beds, tossing the ice pack. "Why the hell do you trust her so much? I really want to know."

"I told you, Dean," Sam said, in a tone that spoke of how he was simmering under the surface. "How many times do I have to explain myself?"

"…No, you know what? No. I need more than that," Dean said. "I deserve more than that."

"Dean—"

"No, Sam. Since the beginning you haven't been straight with me about Ruby," he said, making Sam's jaw clench. "And now you're practically treating her like family. I want to know what the hell happened when I was down under that made you decide she was worth your trust. Hell, why should I trust her?"

"Because she saved my life, all right!" Sam all but shouted.

Dean raised his brows. "Okay…want to elaborate on that?"

Sam paused, then stood.

"Never mind," he muttered and grabbed a jacket that wasn't bloody.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean asked. "I thought we were supposed to be lying low!"

"The bar across the street," Sam said shortly. "I need some air."

Dean rolled his eyes and sat heavily on the bed that wasn't sprinkled with alcohol and blood. He watched dispassionately as Sam threw on a jacket over his bruised back and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. It was as if all the sound was sucked out of the room, leaving the two remaining hunters in heavy silence. Until Elena hesitantly suggested they go after him. Sam really shouldn't be driving. He should be lying down and cleaning up the rest of his cuts.

Dean huffed a breath as he shook his head and grumbled, "Let him be pissed off, fucking throw a hissy fit."

He said that now, but even with everything that had been brought to light, Elena knew they would work things out like they usually did. Shout a little. Throw a couple punches. Get back to the next hunt and the same familiar rhythm before Sam could complain that frozen hot pockets did not constitute breakfast.

They heard the rumble of the Impala's engine peel away from the parking lot, and Dean's frown deepened.

Well, maybe not as fast as that, she amended.

Dean reached up to touch behind his aching head, but he faltered halfway through the motion when his shoulder screamed in protest. He breathed deep and slow and lowered his arm back to his lap.

"You hit your head, didn't you?" asked Elena. He flicked his gaze up to her concerned one trained on him.

"At this point, anything's possible," he murmured. The piercing pain emanating from the back of his head and the dried blood he felt on his neck confirmed it. When she began lifting herself from the chair, he sighed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, both gruff and exasperated. "Sit down before you fall on your ass."

She got up and stretched her left leg a little (instantly regretting that decision), and used the table and chairs as support to make her way over to him.

"Stay right there, damn it!" Elena snapped when he made to get up. Too tired to argue, he shot her a glare at her stubbornness. She smirked.

Elena came to stand, somewhat shakily, on his left side and pushed away hands that tried to steady her. Though she did drop her bag of ice next to him and used his good shoulder to prop her up. Her fingers guided his head to tilt forward, and gently combed through his caked hair. His sharp intake of breath told her when she found the cut. She grimaced in sympathy.

The cut was small though. It had mostly stopped bleeding, save for some mild oozing, so she pressed a gauze pad just enough to soak up the rest.

"Cracked your head well enough," she muttered.

"Gonna kiss it better?" came his dry reply, but she knew in the way he was gripping his knees that he was struggling to contain the pain.

"Quit being a smartass and give me that towel."

He grinned a little as he looked around and saw the small crumpled towel on the floor. It had once been white, but was now pink and stained. He handed it up to her and she was thankful it was still a little damp. She didn't think she would've been able to make it all the way to the sink and back.

Dean winced and gripped the edge of the bed as she began dabbing lightly at the wound, cleaning away the blood.

"You don't have to do this," he said. Elena saw only the profile of his face, but after everything that happened that night, along with his less than pleasant conversation with Sam, she could see he was tired. In mind and body.

"You did something stupid today," she pointed out.

"Really?" he scoffed. "As opposed to any other day?"

She frowned, sighing through her nose with no small amount of exasperation.

"You shouldn't have broken my fall," she said. "Freakin' idiot. You could've killed yourself."

His eyes focused on the ground between his feet while she wiped the back of his neck.

He knew Sam could more or less handle the jump. But she was smaller and lighter than both of them, had less to cushion the blow. If he hadn't, she would've broken bones (or worse), and they would've had to go to a hospital. Right now they needed to lie as low as possible.

"I've risked more for less," he said.

"'Cause you're borderline insane," Elena muttered. She used his shoulder to get to his right side. She wanted to get the rest of the blood out of his hair before she put another gauze pad on. The problem was, she couldn't reach it without putting pressure on her left knee. It was already throbbing at the thought, but she wanted to do this right.

"Don't try to pretend we don't have that in common," Dean said. His mouth twitched upward. But it was short-lived as Elena stumbled over his foot. He caught her by the hips before she could tip all the way over and settled her on his thigh, so she wouldn't hit the floor and jar her already sprained knee further. She breathed through the pain and reached out for his hurt shoulder to regain her balance, but corrected herself quick and grasped the front of his shirt instead.

Dean gave her a half-annoyed, knowing look, and she smiled sheepishly.

"I see your game," he teased.

Elena scowled a bit at the mischievous glint in his eyes. She picked up the towel at his side, turned his head to the right, and continued her self-employed task. Ignoring the heavy hands still holding her waist was impossible, but she focused herself on checking for any more blood on a new gauze pad. There were some drops, but it wasn't nearly as bad as when she started.

Elena chanced a quick look at his face and caught the intensity of his stare, guarded as it was. She blushed under the weight of it. But she also saw the underlining, bone-deep fatigue there, and that made her a little sad.

When was the last time someone took care of you, Dean?

She couldn't help it. She slid her fingers through his hair—a caress that was first gentle against his stubbled cheek, her thumb stroking his skin.

Dean closed his eyes, instinctively relishing the comfort. It had been a hard, shitty day, but she was still here. She hadn't left him.

So he didn't fight it.

Her hand drifted to the back of his neck and she kissed his cheek with soft lips. His eyes opened and found her familiar smile. It was different than in front of the motel, that look. That was lust and urgency and fire. This was affection, tenderness, comfort. And not just for his cuts and bruises.

Dean could've played it off. He could crack a joke to break whatever this was (whatever it could be). And everything would keep being what it was before she looked at him like she knew he remembered Hell.

Mindful of her battered ribs, his hands rose higher on her waist and tucked her more securely against him. And this time, when he kissed her, he took it slow. Almost cautious. There wasn't any teasing excuse he could dish out this time, no way to dismiss the depth in her eyes or the way she touched him. She meant it.

And Dean was strangely okay with that.

So he kissed her; once, twice, and again, but with no real urgency, just taking pleasure in the feeling of her and the way she held him back.

She touched his chest and felt the beating of his heart beneath her hand. It steadied her own racing heart and helped her stop before things went much further. They both needed recovery and rest, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

So Elena rested her forehead against Dean's with her eyes closed, their lips close to brushing again. For now, she was content just to breathe easy again.

The only sounds came from the air conditioning and distant cars passing by. The sun had almost set, casting the room in shadows, and it was peaceful, save for the dull pain of their injuries.

"Dean?" she said, nearly a whisper.

"Hmm."

"I'm tired."

Of angels and demons and everything in between.

Dean let out a long, deep breath that she felt on her lips.

"Me too."

And despite his shoulder, he tucked one arm under her thighs and the other around her back and eased them back on the bed, depositing her next to him. She fixed the pillows and applied another pad to his head. He kicked off his boots and shut off the lamp. He then rested his head against the pillow and smiled when she curled into him. Neither bothered with the bedsheets.

Sam came back a couple of hours of beers later, calmer than before. He was still a bit mad, but couldn't help but pause at the doorway. His brother was dead asleep and snoring softly, even with Elena's hand at the base of his neck. On further inspection, Sam saw that she was holding some gauze there. Dean held a melted bag of ice to Elena's knee that rested against his side.

Sam shook his head in disbelief. That gave him a bit of a rush, but he made his way over to the unclaimed bed. Maybe he stumbled a little, but hey, it was dark. He glanced over at them one more time, a bit envious that they looked more peaceful than he felt (even with the booze). Mostly he marveled.

If just for a little while, Dean let someone else take care of him. And maybe he finally understood what that meant.

Elena woke to something warm, but firm partially underneath her. It moved slowly up and down as she breathed. Shifting her head just, she realized it was Dean's chest. They were both still wearing the same clothes from last night, striped with blood and dirt, and it was seven in the morning if the clock on the nightstand was right. Sam was, for once, sleeping like a rock on his bed. They should probably be getting up by now to figure out what the hell they were going to do. They probably should get up anyway, just to avoid Sam questioning them if he saw them now.

Instead, she laid her head back down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Fuck it, I'm comfortable.

Elena exhaled and let her thoughts drift. The arm wrapped around her waist coiled a little tighter.

When she woke again, it was over an hour later.

Sam's bed was empty and the shower was running, so she could assume he'd locked himself in the bathroom. It was also probably safe to say he'd seen her and his brother curled together on the bed.

Great, she thought. A bit of a blush made her face warm up.

She felt Dean shift under her, and she slowly looked up to meet his gaze.

"Morning," she said, still groggy and coarse, and a bit uncertain as to where they stood after last night.

"You're lying on my arm," he said. His voice was thick with sleep. There was a little grin on his face though. "You're numbin' me up here."

Her expression flattened. "Yeah well, your breath stinks."

He smirked. "You weren't complaining last night."

She rolled her eyes and began sitting up with a muttered, "ass" along the way. Her hand went to her sprained knee as it groaned in protest. Then his supporting hand was warm on her back.

"Is it swollen?" Dean asked.

"Not enough for something to be torn," she replied and let out a long breath through the pain. The bathroom door slid open, letting steam into the room. "But I'm not pulling any marathons anytime soon."

"I've got aspirin," Sam said. He tossed the canister on the bed before toweling off his hair. He was fully dressed, but had bags under his eyes and still looked like he had a hangover.

"Long night?" she asked. It took him a moment to answer.

"No." Sam dropped the towel on the empty bed. "I got in around two."

It was true, for them that wasn't very late. He seemed calmer, but there was still tension in the room. So much so that things were still quiet as Elena gingerly got up to brush her teeth. Meanwhile, Dean scrounged up what he could from his duffel for them to share as breakfast. It wasn't safe for any of them to out again, and he wasn't chancing it.

So far he had a bag of beef jerky, a bag of Cheez-Its, and two chocolate bars. Sam added four granola bars to the pile. It would make for a sad-ass meal, but they had bigger problems.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. Dean looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"…You were right."

Dean's brows rose. "I was?"

Sam released a heavy breath.

"Yeah. You deserve to know," he said. "But…it's hard for me to talk about."

There wasn't much Dean could say to that without being hypocritical. But after Elena came out and he was able to brush his teeth, and they were sitting down and eating, Sam got their attention. His eyes found Elena's.

"After, uh…after we went our separate ways, I wasn't at my best."

He proceeded to explain he tried to make a deal with a demon to trade places with Dean in Hell. It ended badly and got even worse when Ruby and another demon attacked him. But instead of killing him with her knife, Ruby stabbed the demon holding Sam. The story that followed from there wasn't too pleasant, uncomfortable at times for both listeners for different reasons. The fact that he and Ruby had sex was more than a little disconcerting.

"Ugh. Dude, really?" said Dean in disgust.

"I said I was coming clean."

"But now I feel dirty."

Really he hadn't said anything graphic, but Elena was sure it was the fact that Sam was in such a state of despair and that it was Ruby, and Dean hated her. Elena herself was feeling low. More specifically, guilty, for not having been there to help him. She'd walked away and let him feel like he had no choice but to go down the road of trusting a demon, using his psychic powers.

She'd been comforted at Bobby's, got in touch with her friend Val and got on route to being okay. While Sam had Ruby manipulating him into a game of revenge on Lilith.

"Keep going, but…without the nudity," Dean said, and Sam nodded with a wry look. The story ended unexpectedly, with Ruby saving Sam from Lilith's henchmen after she gave them the slip, almost costing her own life in the process. It was out of character for a demon, sure. Maybe she was just bitter, but Elena didn't want to trust it.

For now, though, she would trust Sam, like Dean chose to trust Sam then.

"She got through to me," Sam continued. "And more than that, what she said to me…it's what you would've said. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be here."

And then there was a knock at the door.

"Housekeeping."

A maid, a long walk, and an awkward semi-apology between Dean and Ruby later, they were standing in a rundown, abandoned shack in the middle of the woods with Anna. She was fine, if a little worse for wear, and anxious to call her parents. Though he was reluctant, Sam had to be the one to tell her the truth about the Miltons.

Anna's cries were heartbreaking, and he and Elena comforted her the best they could, but both were startled when she suddenly gasped through her tears, gazing eerily to the door.

"They're coming." The unadulterated fear in her voice had Sam pulling her to a stand and into the back room while Ruby locked the back door. Dean and Elena got weapons out of his bag and Dean handed a gun to Sam.

"Where's the knife?" Ruby asked. Sam and Dean shared similar frowns.

"Uh…about that," Dean trailed.

"You're fucking kidding," Ruby groused.

Dean shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"Thanks a lot," Sam glared at Dean, who smiled, then turned to look out the window.

"Great! That's fucking great," Ruby snapped. "Impeccable timing, guys. Really."

The lights buzzed and flicked on and off, and a loud breeze picked up outside. It gave Dean a hollow feeling inside.

But what came through those doors were not demons. Castiel and Uriel strode with purpose into the room, eyes scanning for what they sought.

"Please tell me you're here to help," said Dean, though his luck was never that good. "We've been having demon issues all day."

"I can see that," Uriel said with disdain. He pointedly looked down at Ruby, whose eyes were flashing black. "Want to explain why you have that stain in the room?"

Nothing they could say would sound rational to angels.

"We're here for Anna," said Castiel. Ever one to get to the point. Elena watched him with a measure of distrust. Maybe it was the whole "mind-drugging" thing he did the last time they talked.

"Here for her like…here for her?" Dean asked.

"Stop talking," Uriel snapped. "Give her to us."

"Are you going to help her?" Sam asked the crucial question. It didn't look like it.

"No," Castiel said. "…She has to die."