AN: Thanks so much for all who reviewed! You guys are lovely. There's a return of a certain Air Supply song, as well as one of my favorite OCs! Feel free to drop a comment in the word box below to let me know what you thought.

Do You Recall

XX: On a Saturday Night

Usually, Elena avoided going into the heart of Hill City. Parts of it were clogged with traffic and smelled like fuel exhaust, especially on a busy Saturday. But as small as the city was, there were things to see that could fit under the category of tourism, like the museum she used to work at. Some of it was not unlike the strip Dean took her and Sam to that night after they managed to save Dean from his ghost sickness.

There were plenty of shops and people crossing the streets and shuffling along the sidewalks, and Elena watched it all from the Impala's passenger seat window. She hadn't sat in the front in…well, since those two months where it was just her and Sam. She hadn't been in this car alone with Dean since…never really. He hadn't ever let her drive it, so if she went to get groceries or something similar (or more often, takeout), it had usually been Sam driving.

Now, however, Elena was glad for the change of scenery. It was weird to be in the house for so long after not having lived there for such a long time; it was like she was occupying a house she was borrowing, almost like staying at a cozier motel for a few nights. Stranger still was staying with Dean. As if they were just a normal couple, washing clothes, cooking food, watching movies, sleeping together…it didn't quite feel real, but not quite unreal. Like a daydream.

Just the fact that everything that happened between them actually happened kept Elena mentally reeling.

And today, it was surprising how little she and Dean had done compared to how busy things usually were when they were on a case (which was almost always). They hadn't even gone outside before Dean suggested they take a ride. She had a feeling he was getting as antsy as she was, maybe more.

So she awkwardly pointed out her old high school and the small park where she and Val used to have lunch at the picnic tables on sunny days. Thinking of the museum and Val made Elena feel guilty. She had been back in Hilly City for nearly five days now, and she hadn't bothered to let Val know. But her bubbly friend would have been over first thing after her shift and would've come with questions and questions Elena didn't have the energy or the emotional stamina to create answers for. And Val had her own bullshit detector that was pretty attuned to Elena.

"You must know everyone in town," Dean commented after she waved to Lisette, one of her elderly neighbors about to enter a general store.

"Not everyone, but yeah. It's a smaller town and people didn't really start moving away until I graduated from high school," she said, still looking out the window. "Bigger and better dreams somewhere else."

"All except for you?" he teased. Her gaze slid over to his, and her smile was wry.

"I wouldn't say that."

Dean's grin faded once he turned on the radio and had music that was distinctly not his own playing on the radio. He glared over at Elena, who was still bobbing contentedly in her seat.

"Did you fuck with my stations again?"

She smiled sweetly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Whitney Houston?" he asked accusingly. " Really?"

"What? Her voice is smooth as butter!"

He only blinked at her incredulously.

"Oh, hell no."

Dean anticipated the slap aimed at his hands before she even started reaching and caught her wrist. He stopped at the red light and kept pressing the seek button while Elena continued trying to wrestle him.

"Goddamn it—"

"Just…leave it!"

"No! This is my car—do I have to tell you the rules again?"

"But—"

"I've had a lot of big dreams…" The lyrics floated through the car, clear and steady.

Both of them paused.

"I've made a lot of bad moves…"

Slowly…reluctantly, their hands fell away from the car radio.

"I know you could walk away, but you never do…"

Elena's eyes flicked to Dean, but when he looked back, she averted her gaze to the side, as if she'd never looked his way.

"I've learned to smile and deceive…"

Dean cleared his throat a little and focused on the road once the light turned green. In his memory he could see a diner and an old style jukebox in a shaded corner by the bar.

"I know I'm hard to be around, but you never leave…"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elena biting her lip. She was trying not to smile. Clearly, she remembered that day all too well.

Neither of them touched the radio after that.

And neither of them heard a phone ringing incessantly.

"Hey, you've reached Elena. This is my personal cell, so you must really know me. I probably won't listen to your message so try calling again, or shoot me a text. Either way, staying on the line by now is pretty pointless."

"Damn it." Val hung up before the pre-recorded lady on the other end of the line could start the "at the tone," spiel.

This was the second time today she'd tried to call without anyone answering. It was a damn cell phone. What could she possibly be doing that was so important? Elena was pretty good about answering, and if she didn't, her OCD wouldn't let her have a missed call in her notifications. She would've called back by now.

At least, under normal circumstances.

"Headin' home?" Val looked up and smiled at Craig, her boss.

"Yeah, dinner with the fam," she said. "I put the mop and broom away and took the trash bag out back."

During one of the field trip tours, a couple stupid kids decided to mess around with one of the displays and accidentally knocked it over. They were understaffed to begin with, which meant it was up to Val to tape the area off and finish giving the tour. Afterwards she had to go and clean up the mess of glass and destroyed artifacts, and call Craig so he could call the owners in charge of dealing out the reparation bills. You break it you buy it, even at the cost of those kids' future college funds.

"Good, good. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help with that," he said apologetically. The man had meetings up the wazoo, Val knew; mostly just a bunch of men in monkey suits swirling their coffee and exchanging meaningless witticisms that no one without a degree in pompous bullshit would understand.

"Not a problem," she said. She'd had to stay two hours overtime. "See you tomorrow!"

Val walked outside to her car and her perky smile fell off her face. Her feet ached and longed to be rid of the black pumps she was required to wear with a professional pantsuit. Thank God it was fucking Friday. Tom and Lea had the weekend shifts, which meant Val could enjoy two days out of the mostly shitty week.

But first, she had to make a pit stop at her mother's house. With a heavy sigh she peeled out of the parking lot and headed down a well-worn path through Hill City rush-hour traffic.

Besides her aching feet, Val's thoughts drifted back to her former workmate and partner in crime. She'd noticed a trend these past few months: this so-called "family business" necessitated a lot of travel. Fine. Enter the Winchester brothers, who she apparently travelled around with doing these odd jobs. All right. Though Val never got a clear picture of exactly what it was, it seemed to be something unorthodox. Val figured Elena was embarrassed to explain it. Or maybe she couldn't. Maybe she was a secret agent.

"Psh. Yeah right," she mumbled out loud. Not to say Elena wasn't smart enough, but the woman wasn't exactly "badass superspy" material. She could barely walk a straight line in heels, let alone know how to work an M-16 or whatever the hell FBI agents used.

Val didn't watch enough Criminal Minds.

But that was beside the point.

The point was, Elena was beginning to worry Val. The few times she'd gotten her friend on the phone since she left Bobby's house, Elena sounded tired. Stressed. Most often at some no-name motel in the middle of nowhere, supposedly "on a job," whatever the hell that meant. One of these days, she would get it out of Elena. But Val would have to put a pin in that for later, because for now she was parking on her mom's driveway next to a Toyota Camry.

The door opened after a few incessant knocks, and then her purse was dropped onto the ground to make room for the heap of dead weight that was her seven-year-old brother.

"Hey, buddy!" she greeted, and her mouth kicked into a broad smile at his childish giggling. "Ugh, you're freaking heavy, dude. You been fattening up while I've been gone?"

Even at seven years old, the boy looked peeved at being called fat.

"You've only been gone a week," he exclaimed, but then said in a lowered voice, "Mom made the nasty soup again."

"It's stew."

"Both are slop."

"Fair enough," said Val. Vanessa Hatfield was many things. A cook was not one of them.

"Valerie! Is that you at the door?" a voice called from the kitchen. "Come inside, you're letting the air conditioning out!"

"Hi to you too, Mother," Val muttered and set her brother down. She picked her purse up from the floor and entered the house, shutting the door behind her. Predictably, she found Vanessa in the kitchen slicing a French bread roll with a steaming pot on the stove.

"Sure you didn't drop a dead animal in that?" Val asked. "It smells."

"Just the chicken," said Vanessa. "Matt! Finish setting the table like I told you to."

Val expertly hid the smile from her face as her brother rolled his eyes and went back to placing the silverware. Then her mother's eyes slid over to her.

"So, how was work?" she asked pleasantly enough. Val knew it was just her attempt at being polite.

"Fine. Until some kids decided to play 'Keep Away' with something from the display case," she sighed. "Ended up toppling the whole thing over."

Vanessa tsked and shook her head as she placed bread slices into a wide bowl.

"Disrespectful," she said disdainfully. "Unruly, those kinds of kids."

It was Val's turn to shake her head.

"That's parents who can't watch their own kids for more than two minutes." She grabbed the silverware and started placing them on the table while her brother brought the drinking glasses.

"Well, a parent can only do so much with a naturally rebellious child," her mother remarked, and started serving the stew in small bowls. Val gave her a sideways look, but didn't comment further. It was a good thing those bowls were small, because she didn't think she'd be able to stomach the smell for much longer, let alone eat a respectable half of the serving.

"What'd you do at school today, kiddo?" Val asked her brother. He swirled his spoon around between overcooked broccoli and a chunk of potato.

"Nothing."

"That doesn't look like your 'nothing' face."

Matt remained silent. Val prodded him lightly in the ribs with her fork, ignoring her mother's sound of disapproval.

"Hey, kid. I'm talking to you." He glared at her.

"Don't call me a kid!"

"That's what you are," she pointed out. "But stop avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"What happened at school today, Matt?" Vanessa asked this time, pointedly staring at her son. Matt's eyes fell to the table, but Val caught something rushed about quitting his piano class. She'd been hearing his grumbling about it for a while now. How boring it was and how the teacher always looked at him like he was dumb. He understood the work and practiced like he was supposed to, but he just didn't like it.

"Oh…that's it?" she asked. "That was just an afterschool class, right?"

"You did what?" Vanessa exclaimed. "Without talking to me about it first? Matthew, I'm paying for those lessons—"

"Well now you're not paying 'em," said Val. "God, Mom. If he doesn't want to take piano, he doesn't have to."

"That's just like you," Vanessa said, regarding her daughter with a pinched look. "Work at something for a little while, and as soon as it gets hard, you tell him to quit. What kind of attitude is that?"

"That's not what this is. He doesn't like it, Mom. He's never liked it, but he stuck with it for almost a year," said Val. "I think that's good enough."

"'Good enough?'" Vanessa repeated. "Like a public college was good enough for you?"

"What does that have to do with anything—"

"I'm trying to make sure your brother is cultured, that he uses his full potential—"

"Not like me. That's what you're saying, right?" Val tossed her spoon onto the table with a clang. "Don't want him to be a grade-A fuckup like me, right?"

"You watch your language and tone in this house, you understand?" her mother snapped. Val got up from the table, making the chair creak loudly as it scraped the wood flooring.

"Oh, yeah. I understand," she glared. But her expression softened when she turned to her brother. "Get your stuff, we're headin' out."

"Excuse me," Vanessa raised her voice, "We're not done here. I didn't give him permission to go with you for the weekend, not after this mess."

Val turned around and pinned her mother with an icy stare. It was enough to still her. Val was tempted to say something, but Matt came down with a relieved look on his face and his duffel bag over his shoulder.

Maybe one day, it won't be just a weekend.

"We're done," said Val.

She gave her mother one last hard look before guiding Matt to the front door.

As it turned out, Sam and Sarah found that the bakery was connected to a diner, and the dinner menu looked almost as appealing as the dessert. It was nearly six thirty, they might as well sit and eat real food before Sam had to drive back to Sioux Falls and Sarah to the hotel she and her dad were staying at in town.

There was a short wait as a young woman and a boy were in line for a table before them, and were soon seated toward the back. But eventually the couple was seated against the wall, far from the window.

Sam caved for once and ordered a cheeseburger, while Sarah was quite happy with her Tuscan chicken sandwich. Music played from a stereo in the corner, and they were content just to talk. Sam very briefly mentioned how he and Dean hadn't stopped working after they left New York the first time. There had been bigger and badder monsters to find, and though there was a lot he couldn't say—a lot—he could see the understanding in her eyes.

It was…refreshing.

"Sam…can I ask you something?" said Sarah. Sam paused from his burger and met her gaze.

"Sure."

"How have things been, really," she asked, "for you and your brother."

Enough memories flashed through his mind that he needed a moment to sip his beer and formulate his thoughts.

"…Rough," he said eventually. "Pretty rough."

His eyes rested on her face for a while. Sarah had honest eyes, soft features that spoke of both warmth and intelligence. She cared. Genuinely cared, even after all this time. After he called out of nowhere, disturbing her life with his again.

"But…things are looking up a little," he finished with a slight smile. She returned it, though those honest eyes looked down at the table before meeting his again. Her cheeks were a little flushed.

"For both of you?" she asked.

"Heading that way…" Sam nodded as he thought about it. "Dean's been…well, Dean. Mostly."

He could only assume he and Elena were working things out, as he hadn't contacted him yet besides a brief text telling Sam he was staying the night at Elena's house. Sam had been hopeful. From what Bobby had told him, and from what he could infer from when he'd called her a couple days ago, she'd been understandably upset. Dean hadn't been much better off.

"I think he's dating a friend of ours."

If Dean hadn't done anything stupid.

"Really?" said Sarah. "…He didn't seem like the dating type to me."

Sam snorted.

"Me either. But…she's good for him," he said, and then smiled again. "You would like her."

"Does she hunt things too?"

"Yeah. We've been working together for a while now." Sam took another gulp of his drink. "You could say she's…a friend of the family."

Sarah smiled at that.

"Well, I hope they're happy together." Sam nodded.

"Yeah…me too."

And with that a thought came to him as they started ordering dessert and he asked for three different slices of pie to-go.

"Sarah," Sam began. He twirled his now empty bottle of beer between his fingers. "I'm sorry if…this is too forward, but…these past few years…"

It was a simple question, he told himself.

"Have you, um…has there been…"

"Anyone else?" she finished for him, with a gentle (but knowing) smile.

"Uh…yeah," Sam laughed a little out of nervousness.

"Well, about a year after you left there were a couple," she admitted. "But…they didn't work out."

His lips twitched. Their eyes met, and the small grin on his face grew.

"Ah…sorry to hear that."

Sarah's smile was beginning to hurt her cheeks from trying to stifle it.

"Yeah, you sound real broken up."

"Trust me. If you can eat a five-pound grease ball from anywhere else without a problem with the taste, this is the Holy Grail of burgers."

Sam recognized the voice. He paused and looked around, not spotting the source. It was decidedly feminine and injected with a healthy dose of sass. But he placed it immediately when it was soon accompanied by a gruffer, deeper voice Sam knew all too well.

He looked over to the entrance and his eyes met Elena's.

They'd been walking down the long streets of small shops, Elena pointing out places she and her friends used to hang out after school, or the department store she and her dad used to go to. When she was really young, she used to run up and down the aisles and grab all the brightly colored coupons and give them to Jack.

By the time they got to the cash register, he would have a wad of coupons in his hand. Far used to his daughter's antics, he'd just use what he could and tuck the rest in his pocket. If she remembered correctly, there was a drawer in her kitchen that was full of old coupons that were never used.

Dean listened to her ramble, secretly amused. He didn't have memories like that of Lawrence. At least, not that clear. It was actually kind of nice hearing about hers though. They didn't talk about their pasts that often, let alone their childhood. Unless it was important, or a memory ripped open somehow. This was different, lighter, as if they were just a new couple getting to know each other.

"Whoa," said Dean. There was a line for a small restaurant and bakery, and through the windows he could see empty tables being filled. "What's goin' on here?"

"Dinner rush," Elena explained. "This is one of the most popular diners in Hill City. You would like it."

He looked down at her with a raised brow.

"Why's that?"

She smiled and pointed at the bakery side of the diner. Behind the glass display he caught the sight of assorted cakes and pies and smaller confections.

"They've got the best pie in South Dakota."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, grinning a bit. "Pretty bold statement. What about the rest of the food?"

"It's pretty good," she said. "I used to come here a lot…my mom and I liked the milkshakes."

Dean watched her as her expression turned softer, pensive. He'd seen it plenty of times that day as they revisited so much of her past, but it was always different when she mentioned either of her parents. Especially her mom.

He looked up and saw that the line of people was getting shorter, and didn't even stretch outside anymore.

"Well, I've had my share of diner food," he said, and with a wink, "I'll be the judge if it's good or not."

Elena looked up at him, and a smile played at her lips. She let him guide her into the restaurant with his hand warm at the small of her back.

"I like their chicken sandwiches, but they make a really good burger," she told him. They were two people away from the hostess' podium.

"Burger sounds good right about now," he said. "Better melt in my mouth, is all I'm sayin'."

She scoffed, but her eyes took in the scenery of the small, family diner. It hadn't changed much over the years, even less in the past few months that she'd been gone. Nor had it suffered any business; the lunch and dinner rushes on weekends never failed to make this place packed.

"Trust me," she said. "If you can eat a five-pound grease ball from anywhere else without a problem with the taste, this is the Holy Grail of burgers."

Though it was loud, she thought she heard…someone familiar. Her eyes scanned the room again and caught something to the left: a broad frame and shaggy brown hair. Blue-green eyes met hers and she stilled.

"Right this way please," the hostess addressed Dean with a smile.

"Lena, we're next," Dean said to her.

"Dean." She got his attention with her hand on his arm, and he followed the path of her gaze, brows furrowing until they shot up into his hairline.

"Sam?"

Sam blinked, staring blankly at brother who was looking straight at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. And then his eyes shifted to the left, and brows rose even higher at seeing Sarah. Dean gave him the "oh really?" look, and Sam knew he was screwed.

The hostess asked him a question, and Dean spoke to her in smooth tones. When he pointed over at Sam's table, he noticed they were at a table with four chairs.

Shit, shit, shit…

"Isn't that Dean?" Sarah asked.

"…Yeah."

Her expression turned wry.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

Sam gave her an apologetic look.

"Remember how he was with us the first time?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"He's going to be a lot worse."

"Right."

The blonde hostess nodded and led Dean and Elena over to Sam's table.

"Hi there, I believe you know each other, is that right?" she asked Sam. Behind her Dean gave him a knowing grin.

"Y-Yeah, that's right." Unfortunately.

"So it's okay that they sit with you?"

"…Yes, yeah it's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's no problem. Thanks." The blonde smiled again and turned to Dean.

"All right, well I'll have someone come around and serve you guys."

"Thanks," Dean said, and then pinned Sam with a knowing look. "Sam. What a surprise."

"…Look, Dean—"

"Oh no, you don't have to explain it to me," Dean refuted, and smiled pleasantly at Sarah. "Hey, Sarah. Long time, no see."

She smiled back a little nervously, but she seemed to be trying to go with it.

"Hey, Dean. Good to see you," she said, then to Elena she held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Sarah. You must be who Sam was telling me about."

Elena smiled and shook the woman's hand.

"Elena," she introduced herself, "You must be the one Sam was telling me about."

Sarah laughed a little.

"Yeah, it's one hell of a story," she admitted.

"Yeah, speaking of that," said Dean, eyes trained on his brother, "I'd love to hear the story of how you guys met up again."

"It's, uh…kind of complicated," said Sam. "Besides, I thought you didn't need me to explain anything."

"Just iron out some details, it's still a bit fuzzy to me." Sam hesitated before answering, but he was saved by the waiter that came to take Dean and Elena's orders of drinks and entrees, as both knew what they wanted. He walked away, pad and pencil in hand, and for a moment, the table was quiet.

Sam sighed.

"Okay…" He proceeded to explain how Sam called Sarah not long after they'd left Poughkeepsie, New York. After that, they started talking more—texting and Skype, mostly, but keeping in touch. Dean left for Hill City, leaving Sam at Bobby's. And when Sarah told him she was going to be in South Dakota for an exhibition…it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up on.

Elena couldn't help the smile that grew on her face as she listened. Sam's earnestness was something that made him Sam. That and how when he wanted something badly enough, he went and got it, even at the prospect of his older brother's teasing. Dean, for his part, listened with a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. He never interrupted Sam, was content to eat his burger when it came and sipped his beer when Sam finished.

"Okay," said Dean, who popped a fry in his mouth.

"…Okay?" Sam asked incredulously. Elena bit into her last bit of sandwich in attempt not to laugh. Her eyes slid over to Dean's plate enviously. She'd stupidly gotten a side of salad instead of fries.

"Yeah, Sammy," he shrugged, and caught the fingers sneaking over his plate. Still chewing, he looked over at Elena casually. She grinned sheepishly.

He raised a brow, but his eyes widened as she smugly slid a large fry into her mouth with her free hand. Dean let go of her, but with a look that said the battle was by no means over.

As neither of them had eaten very much, Val took the poor kid to a little diner they knew well. Made the best damn baked macaroni and cheese, and they always split a huge slice of cheesecake from the bakery half of the restaurant. Val especially loved taking her brother here, because (at least, when he was younger) he liked that they shared a name.

To most of the people who lived in this city, Mattie's was the best place to get anything sweet and baked with bread and sugar. She and Elena used to come early in the morning before their shift at work and split half a dozen fresh donuts.

"You okay, buddy?" she asked. The boy was unusually quiet for just having left their mom's house. Usually the kid wouldn't shut up from when they got in the car until she put him to bed at night.

"Yeah…" He put a forkful of macaroni in his mouth.

"You're not gunna have to go to those lessons anymore, all right? I'll make sure of it."

Matt sighed.

"It's not that."

Val was at a loss.

"Then tell me what it is," she said gently. Matt looked up from his bowl.

"Why does Mom have to talk to you like that all the time?" he asked. That hit her sideways. Out of everything that could've been on his mind…it made Val smile a little.

"She's got it rough right now, Mattie." The divorce between her mom and her father was being drawn out. Vanessa refused to sign the papers, even though she'd be getting a great deal of alimony, while her father continued to what he did best now that he was finally moved out of the house and into the apartment he owned in Los Angeles (and had mostly lived in anyway) with his new girlfriend. He went to work.

"Yeah, but she's always been like that," Matt pointed out. Which was also true, though Val was surprised he'd picked up on it so young.

"Yeah…I ask myself that question a lot too," she confessed, and sipped at her beer.

"Hey, since it's just us," Matt trailed, watching her set down the bottle on the table. "Can I try some of that?"

Val laughed out loud.

"Trust me, you wouldn't like it."

"How would you know?"

"'Cause I'm drinking it." She shook her head. "Nice try, kid."

"Stop calling me 'kid'!"

"It's what you are. Better get used to it." Val laughed at his brooding glare, but squinted her eyes at the afternoon sun glinting through the window in her eyes.

"Damn it, you'd think they'd put some curtains on the window," she complained, and brought her hand up to shade her eyes. But they widened at what they saw sitting at a table of four.

"…Elena?"