A/N OKAY OKAY I KNOW

Erebor is waiting.

But I'm having a moment here with my boy Dean so now you all have to suffer with me.

And by suffer I mean welcome to a story who's only purpose is to exist on a shoestring plot to deliver us that sweet sweet protective Dean Winchester hurt/comfort time.

Welcome to my AU where things never really escalated past season two in their line of work and they're still monster of the weeking without major overarching plot. Mostly because that's too many seasons of lore for me to keep track of for something that exists for self indulgence because sometimes you just need pining Dean Winchester to hold you and tell you everything's gonna be okay god dammit.

Also this is TECHNICALLY a sequel to my other supernatural fic Day over Night. However instead of finishing that we're gonna jump to even more fun parts where there's more pining and more angst PLUS memory loss.

What can I say, I'm a multitasker.

But yes, Day over Night is canon to this story.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my tedtalk, like and subscribe for an angsty danger time.

Oh and on another note, I have no beta so go with god. Or whoever. I'll go back and cringe at all my mistakes tomorrow.

The lego rattled in the air vents, yellow passed by in two continuous lines, and Dean gripped the wheel of the Impala with both hands. They should've been on a normal hunt. Should've been taking a normal case.

They should not have been driving up to a small town in Northern California they'd sworn they'd never step foot in.

"Dude." Sam quipped beside him.

"What?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." He could handle the trip, odds are it was nothing and they'd be in and out before she even had a chance to notice them. If she noticed them at all. But Sam was staring. "What?!"

"You're white knuckling the steering wheel." Sam answered plainly.

Dean loosened his grip and sighed.

Sam continued. "It's probably nothing."

"I know, Sam."

"We'll get in, check on her, and get out."

"I KNOW, Sam."

"Dude."

"WHAT?!" His knuckles went white against the steering wheel again and he loosened them again.

"Are you gonna be able to handle this? Cause with the way you're acting right now I'm starting to wonder."

Steam simmered in Dean's chest, even though he knew Sam wasn't necessarily wrong. His silence only proved it.

"Dean, I can do this solo if you-"

"No." He said quickly. Too quickly. "If anyone's gonna be checking up on her it's gonna be me."

"And screw your feelings?"

He scoffed. "What feelings?"

"Uhuh."

That was it, Dean was done. He shot a glare at Sam and flipped the radio on, making it clear that would be the only words spoken in the car until they got there.

It was every other small town USA they'd ever seen. Main street of aged buildings pockmarked with elegant historical facades, some ambiguously themed town festival promoted on freshly printed banners, and mature trees lining the roads.

"What's the address?" He grumbled, trying not to scan the face of every woman they passed in case it was her. It wouldn't be, school was in session and she was a teacher now, but he couldn't help himself.

"1450, Willow. Hang a right up here at the stop sign." Sam replied, looking up from his map.

With a rumble, the Impala came to a stop along the curb across from a stately looking craftsman, her childhood home.

"No car in the driveway, she's still at work." Sam observed. "Lights are off too."

With any luck, one look inside would tell them enough, but Dean wasn't feeling very lucky. "Let's get this over with.

They slipped around the back, through a gate she should've had a lock on to begin with, and up the back porch to the kitchen door. Dean picked the lock, turned the handle, and steeled himself.

Sam slipped past him into the kitchen. "I'll check upstairs. You good down here?"

"Just go."

The kitchen was dated, but clean and kept up. He rifled through the cupboards, pleased to find only one, normal sized canister of salt in the whole room. Already a good sign.

Into the dining room, formal and a little dusty from lack of use. The hall was the same, well furnished and clearly lived in for decades. At first the living room even seemed unremarkable. She had a messy desk in the corner housing red pencils and various folders, probably for when she brought her work home. But the corner of a box caught his eye and he recognized it immediately.

She was smoking again? She'd only picked that up after…No, she may have just not quit to begin with. Didn't mean anything.

He moved on to the bookshelves, finding the usual fantasy, classics, and…

"Sammy!" He called out, snatching the book off the shelf by the spine and holding it cover out as Sam came down the stairs. "What's she doing with a book on demons?"

"Maybe there's enough in her subconscious to spark an interest?" Sam sighed, not able to stand up to his own suggestion and held up a small orange bottle. "Sleeping pills. Prescription."

"Could also be nothing." Dean cautiously rationalized. "People have trouble sleeping all the time." Then it was his turn to sigh, and he pulled the half empty box of cigarettes out from under the mess on her desk.

"Maybe she never quit after the case?" Sam added to their delusions.

"Or maybe Bobby was right and that thing is dogging her again and it's still early enough that her life hasn't started falling apart yet."

"Let's just…not freak out yet. These are all very normal…people things. The…smoking and sleeping pills and…I mean even if those memories are buried maybe they still left enough of a mark that she has a few coping mechanisms?"

Dean gave him an incredulous look and pulled down another book, also on demonology. "Demons?"

"When we met her she'd just stolen a book on demons from Berkley's rare book collection. Research is kind of her go-to."

With a frown, Dean stuffed the books back and tucked the box in place on her desk. "Okay, well, let's do some more poking around. Maybe she's got some receipts from psychics or insurance documents or something."

Sam jumped into action, tossing him the prescription bottle and sitting down at her desk. "If it's back around she'll probably go through a similar pattern to figure out what's wrong. Doctors, psychologists, sleep studies…"

Dean checked them into the local motel with more than a sliver of bitterness. They should've been gone by now, but Sam had found her calendar tucked into a drawer. Maybe it was nothing, it could still be coincidence, or maybe the three doctors appointments over the past two months were pointing to a pattern they were all too familiar with.

He was itching to do…anything but sit around that musty motel room while they waited for morning. They'd have to go see her, at least from afar. Neither one of them was comfortable writing it all off until they saw her for themselves. They'd spend the day tailing her, see if anything felt off, and then leave.

"I'm going out." He said without Sam doing more than looking up. Key's in hand he drove around until he found what looked to be the town's dedicated dive bar. He plopped himself down at the end of the bar, ordered a beer, and scanned the room. It was a week night so things were pretty quiet. She'd mentioned her hometown was sleepy, he supposed she was right. That was good, she'd earned someplace peaceful where the dive bar regulars looked like dads having a beer before going home to have dinner with their families.

"Whiskey, neat, and a beer please." A woman said, flashing him a smile when she noticed him looking.

He nodded with a smirk and tipped his beer up to his lips, not much in the mood for that kind of company tonight. She seemed unfazed and left with her drinks. His eyes followed as she sat down at a small round table in the corner and passed the whiskey glass to-

"Shit." He muttered under his breath, ducking his head to the side when the woman subtly pointed him out to her friend.

Of course she'd come in for an evening drink, it wasn't like she was a completely different person from when she'd known them. Dean should've known better. But now if he left he'd really draw their attention, so he kept his head down and tried not to overhear their conversation, which wasn't working.

"A guy like that isn't here on vacation, Elle. He's probably trouble anyway."

"More trouble than the guys in this town? Come on, Jules, let me dream a little."

Jules wasn't wrong, Dean being there was trouble, trouble for her. She deserved to be left alone, blissfully unaware of what happened three years ago and who he was.

Jules chuckled, sipping at her glass. "Dream away, at least this one's hot."

His only saving grace was that he didn't have any beer in his mouth when she'd said that, or else he really would've drawn their attention by spewing all over the bar.

"So was the last guy!" Elle defended.

"You drank until he was hot. Trust me, I was sober that night, remember?"

"Oh yeah. You know I'm kind of happy you switched off those sleeping pills and can drink again, you're a grumpy DD."

Dean stopped trying to overhear. Was she talking about the sleeping pills Sam had found on her nightstand that had been refilled last week?

Jules sputtered with a laugh. "And you're worse than the high schoolers when you're drunk. It was all I could do to keep up with you."

It was good to see her smiling and laughing, it had happened sparsely during the time he'd known her. God he hoped they were wrong, otherwise they'd be right back to square one.

They tailed her all the next day, from the moment she left for work, to the moment she drove back home from the high school. Nothing weird. Nothing out of the ordinary. Hell, Dean couldn't even make out anything as subtle as dark circles under her eyes. By all accounts, she was fine.

But something gnawed at him as they sat outside her house in the dark. Was it some gut instinct that despite all outward appearances, something else was going on? Or…was it a selfish wish that something was happening that would bring her back into his life?

"Look, man." Sam broke the silence in the car. "She seems to be living a perfectly normal life to me."

Dean held a breath and let it out in a puff. "I dunno, Sammy. Something's not right here."

"What, the white picket fence or the compassionate school teacher part?"

"The smoking and the sleeping pills and the god damn demonology books!"

"Hey, don't take it out on me. If you wanna stay a few more days I'm not gonna argue."

"Well I do!"

"Okay! Then just…chill the fuck out a little, will ya?"

"I, am perfectly chill. I am Vanilla Ice levels of chill here."

Sam scoffed but stopped talking which suited Dean just fine. If Sam wasn't talking, they couldn't talk about Jules, and if they weren't talking about Jules, Dean could almost forget who they were there to watch. Almost.

Inside the house, Juliet wound down from another routine Friday with a box of mexican takeout while she graded papers at her desk. Just two more months until winter break and she could breathe again.

As the wind picked up outside, she clicked on the space heater under the desk and took a bite of her enchilada. Finishing these tonight would be an act of self care, so she could focus on laundry tomorrow instead. If it wasn't one thing it was another, she missed the days before her dad had started working overseas and was home to help with chores.

The aging house had some dents and dings and more than a few quirks that had only seemed to have gotten worse lately. She'd have to mention the shingles that had come off the roof in the last storm the next time she spoke to him on the phone.

One of those came into play as she went to the kitchen for a napkin and flipped on the lights, only to be plunged into darkness as the whole house went black.

"Fuck, not again."

Stuffing her feet into a pair of house slippers she grabbed a flashlight from under the sink and trudged down the wobbly steps into the basement to find the breaker box. Why it wasn't literally anywhere else, she couldn't say, but she did know it was inconvenient as all hell.

She kept her eyes firmly on the sliver of ground the flashlight lit up and tried to ignore the years of her childhood she spent scared stiff of the basement. Juliet was an adult now, basements weren't supposed to be scary anymore. But then again, tell that to every horror movie ever made.

Hurrying through the draughty basement she went to the breaker box and reset everything for good measure. Upstairs, the microwave beeped gleefully as it turned back on and she slammed the door of the box as she made a b-line for the stairs. Two at a time, she tackled the stairs and firmly shut the basement door, feeling the tingle of childhood fear in her spine.

"I swear, I've gotta get over that someday." She muttered to herself.

Throwing the flashback back under the sink she snatched up a napkin and turned to head back out to the living room. She came to a dead stop in the hallway, staring at two men who were standing awkwardly by the living room. Everything flashed through her mind from burglars, to high school pranks, to them being responsible for her breakers blowing.

"Uh, so sorry ma'am." Said the tallest of the two. "We were walking by and saw your lights go out all at once. We uh…we thought something might be wrong."

He kicked the other man who cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, sorry. We'll just be…going."

They backed up towards the front door, looking sheepish and more afraid of her than she was of them…which was a feat. But one of them wasn't as much of a stranger as the other. "Wait a minute, you're that guy from the bar last night."

He coughed and looked away from his friend who cast him a weird look. "I uh…"

"Look, you know what, I don't care, just…" She'd locked up when she'd gotten home…how did they get in? Reaching behind her she stealthily tried to slip her phone out of her back pocket.

"Okay, we're not being entirely truthful." The taller one said, earning his own weird look from the other. "We were in town and remembered that our dad's old friend lived up here. We were gonna come by and say hello, but then your lights went out and…"

"Your dad's old friend? Really? That's what you're going with?"

The gruff one answered. "Yeah, he was friends with Richard. I'm guessin' you're his daughter Juliet?"

She didn't survive classrooms of high schoolers by being easily fooled, even if they did know her dad's name. It wasn't like it was hard to find out, they'd lived in that town her whole life after all. "Okay well Richard doesn't take visitors after dark so kindly get the fuck out of my house before the cops get involved." She waved her hands at them to shoo them off and they started backing up again. It was very obvious when they opened the door behind them and it was unlocked.

"Sorry, again, ma'am." The tall one said right before she slammed the door shut behind them and turned the deadbolt.

Great. As if her insomnia wasn't bad enough already, now she had people breaking into her house looking for her dad. The pair got into a classic car parked across the street and drove off, and she reached for her phone to call the Sheriff.

Being a small town, Sheriff Hunnicutt knew her personally. Hell, his wife had been her ballet teacher when she was eight. It wasn't much of a surprise that he came by himself, checked all the doors and windows, took her statement, and offered her the guest room if she didn't want to stay the night at home.

Juliet declined and surrendered to not finishing her paper grading or her dinner that night. Instead she took a shot of whiskey and pulled a book off her shelf to take upstairs to bed. A little folkloric escapism was just what she needed to get her mind off of polite burglars and her current niche interest in European demonology would do nicely.

From the second floor, she wasn't so concerned about creepers and she could see the street and would hear their car if they came back. She curled up on the window seat and opened the window, slipping a freshly emptied ash tray as she lit up a cigarette and flipped to her bookmark.

Saturday morning was dark, gray, and windy. Everything was wet but it couldn't bring itself to rain and it really was the best kind of day to stay in and do chores. Given the few hours of sleep she'd managed the night before, a nap might also be in the cards.

She was just coming up the stairs with a basket of warm laundry when the doorbell rang. Probably the sheriff coming to check up on her.

Dropping the basket by the door with a thump she peeked out the side window and frowned. One foot wedged against the edge, she opened the door about two inches and looked out. "Seriously?"

It was the two men again, looking damp and uncomfortable and holding a pink pastry box. Once again, it was the taller of the two that spoke.

"We're sorry to bother you again, we wanted to apologize for last night."

"Well this is definitely the first time I've heard of burglars bringing apology doughnuts to people the day after. What is your deal?" It actually made her almost want to believe them. There wasn't anything in the house worth stealing enough to make a second broad daylight trip as far as she knew.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean. We're working on a book about historic homes throughout California and remembered your dad lived here. We hoped he might let us tour the place for our research."

"So you broke in instead?"

"Front door was unlocked." Dean answered shortly.

"Look, Juliet, right?" Sam waited for her to nod and went on. "Last night was really just a misunderstanding. Can we start over?"
She poured two cups of black coffee and sat them down at the kitchen table while she leaned back against the sink with her arms crossed. This was stupid, she knew that. Hell, she even knew they had to be lying, but she also had a strong feeling that they weren't burglars either, which left a bit of a mystery in its wake.

"So," Sam began, while Dean kept his gaze firmly down onto the mug in front of him. "How old is this place?"

"1904." She replied simply, feeling somewhat purposefully ignored by Dean.

"Wow! That's some history. Bet it's got some character too. I'm guessing after last night, bad wiring is one of them?"

"Well, it was upgraded in the 70s. You just have to know which circuits can take what but when you're adding space heaters into the mix…" Trailing off she went ahead and made herself another cup of coffee. "Might need to upgrade it again soon though, seems like it's been getting worse lately."

Juliet wasn't blind to the flash of a glance between the two and stowed that into their growing mystery file.

"Anything else weird?" Dean asked, followed closely by Sam.

"We find it's part of what makes the homes we look at so special."

Narrowing her eyes she took a sip from her mug. "Just the usual joys of living in an old house. It's drafty, creaky, flickery, and the damn washer and dryer hookups are downstairs in the creepy basement like every other hundred year old place out here."

Dean perked up. "Creepy basement?"

"Oh for christ's sake, you're not here about home improvement just spit it out."

There was that sheepish look between them again and Sam once again took point.

"We…uh…our book isn't about old houses so much as it's about…"

"Haunted ones." Dean finished. "The east coast has all the good ghost stories so we figured what the hell, California has to have some decent ones just nobody's looked for them."

Juliet sighed, rubbed her hands over her face, and shook her head. "You want to see the creepy basement, don't you?"

"Could we?" Sam asked.

She pointed to the door to Sam's left. "Go right ahead, but I'm not following you two weirdos down there." Watching them go she followed as far as the doorway and hollered down at them. "And don't steal my underwear!"

They were down there a couple minutes before Dean's heavy footfalls came back up and he gave her a wry look.

"Sam wants to give 'the spirits' enough time to show themselves to him. Honestly I don't think there's anything here to find."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the doorframe between the kitchen and hallway.

She topped off her coffee, keeping one eye on him while she did.

"Listen, Jules…"

"Jules? We're onto nicknames already?" She wouldn't mention to him how good it sounded coming out of someone so…Well, Elle was right, he was hot as shit.

He smiled for the first time, almost like he found something funny. "Right, sorry. Juliet."

"Don't be." She teased, enjoying the flick of his eyes over to her when she did.

He coughed and went on. "I hope we didn't make you lose any sleep last night. We really didn't mean to scare you."

Flirting with burglars now, was she? She supposed it was the least he could do for her, she'd had a helluva dry spell. She plucked his coffee off the table and handed it to him, leaning against the fridge so she was facing him. "Bit of an insomniac anyway these days, not sure you could've made it worse if you tried."

"These days?" He took a gulp, watching her over the rim. "Didn't used to be?"

He seemed concerned, genuinely. Dammit she really was in a dry spell if a strange man's concern felt so touching to her. "Probably just stress."

"Yeah, I get that. I've heard some people with insomnia get these real killer nightmares too. Not anything like that I hope?"

"I mean…everybody gets nightmares, right? I wouldn't call them killer or anything." There was something behind his question and it made her nervous, but not about him. But maybe he had a relative or something who'd gotten nightmares too? Maybe…what if he had an idea of why her sleep was so messed up recently?

"When did they start?"

It was like he'd hit a nail on the head but she couldn't stop herself from following him down the road of questioning. "Couple months ago. Why?"

"Nightmares worse when you take something to help you sleep?"

She froze, mug pressed against her chest as they locked eyes. "Yeah…it's like I'm…"
"Trapped in them?"

Juliet couldn't have moved if she tried, just like she couldn't help her heart pounding while he looked at her like they were more than strangers. "Look, I just need to lay off the mythology books before bed, I'm sure that's not helping."

"That's not what this is."

"Sure, Mr. Sleep Disorder Expert."

"It's not a sleep disorder." He argued.

Finally able to snap herself out of his gaze she shook her head. "Okay sorry, what's going on here?" She waved her hand between the two of them. "First you're here to see my dad, then you're here writing a book about old houses, then haunted houses, and now you're arguing with me about my sleep problems? This is bullshit and you can collect your spirit hunting friend and get the fuck out of my house."

"You're right, those stories are all bullshit. We're really here to see you."

Playful flirtation was out the window and she took a few steps back from him, closer to the door outside. "Why?"

"Because you're in danger and we wanted to make sure you're okay."

Lunging for the back door she pulled it open, half separating her from him. "Yeah I'm starting to see that. It's time for you to go."

He put himself on the other side of the table from where she stood, but locked eyes again. "Those nightmares, they get pretty dark, don't they?"

How the hell would he know anything about it? She hadn't even been to her first appointment with the psychologist yet. Nothing was in any files they could've seen and she hadn't written them down anywhere.

"Feel real, even after you manage to wake up? Is that why you started smoking again? Helps with the dream hangover I bet."

"Have you been watching me?"

"No-" He paused and made a face. "Well, yesterday, yes. But that's it. If it seemed like things were fine we were just gonna take off but…"

"Oh my god, are you serious right now?"

"Jules, we're here to keep you safe."

"Sounds like what a couple stalkers would say."

The basement stairs groaned and Sam came up to join them. "You know something's wrong, Jules, and no doctor is gonna be able to explain it to you. What you're experiencing right now is just the tip of the iceberg."

She jabbed her finger at him. "That's not helping your case. I want you out of my house, you can decide if you're gone before the sheriff gets here or not."

"What happened between the months of April and July three years ago?" Dean said quickly, holding his hand out to stop Sam from saying anything. "You had meningitis, got put in a medically induced coma, right?"

Yeah, it was a huge blank spot in her memory but she'd bounced back just fine. Even managed to get her degree on time. How did they know about that?

"What hospital were you at?" He challenged. "Who was your doctor?"

"I…How is any of this relevant?" She couldn't remember, but surely that was just part of the whole blurry mess of those months. Then again, had she ever had any kind of follow up?

"You can't remember, can you?"

Sam spoke softly. "Juliet, you never had meningitis and there was no coma. You were told that to explain why you suddenly couldn't remember three months of your life. We know because we dropped you back off at your dorm at the end of June. After you willingly wiped your own memory."

"June 23rd to be exact." Dean added. "Which I'm guessing is the first time you can remember anything since the beginning of April."

If her heart decided to beat any faster she was sure she'd have some kind of coronary. "Can you both just…Stop for a second." The blood drained from her face and her vision started to go spotty.

"Woah, okay, time to move this party to the living room."

Dean's voice came through hollowly as she tried to fight the urge to pass out.

"Good going, Dean." Sam snapped at him as Juliet wavered on her feet.

Dean ignored him and skirted the table, getting to her just as she slumped towards the ground. "She's having nightmares again, what was I supposed to do?" He picked her up and made for the living room.

Sam shut the back door and followed. "Oh I dunno, maybe ease her into the "we know what you did three summers ago" talk? Oh, I know! How about when she wakes up we jump right into telling her how she almost died the last time this thing showed up? I'm sure that'll go down great."

He laid her down on the couch and carefully tucked a pillow under her head. "She was gonna call the cops on us dude, I decided it was either tell her now or have to dodge the damn sheriff until things got so bad that she was desperate enough to turn to us again. And if you think for one second I'll sit by and wait for that happen you can go back to Bobby's and I'll deal with this thing."

Sam sighed, an acceptance or at least a moratorium on their argument which was all Dean really hoped for. "I'll go grab her some water. If she wakes up while I'm gone, don't freak her out."