Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to TVD or SPN

Chapter Title: Dark Doo Wop - MS MR

Thank you to every amazing reviewer and reader who is standing by me and not giving up on me. I love all of you.

Notes:

1. Elena's outfits are in the same place - the tumblr blog tvdcrossovers under the navigation tab on the left. Click on the link that says - CHAPTER 8 under HELLS BELLS.

2. I'm sort of getting back into writing this so I'm a little rusty. Forgive me for that.

3. I would love to hear what you think!

Elena paced the room nervously, glancing at her phone every so often to make sure that Sam or Bobby didn't call to tell her that it was over. Dean was still sitting on the bed, scratching at his arm as he stared off into the distance. It was hard to stay away from him but she had no idea what to say. Nothing was getting through to him right now, since his delirium had only increased since Britton died in front of them.

"No! No!" he grunted.

Her head whipped around and she saw him curled in on himself, his hands over his ears.

"You are not real! You're not real!"

She rushed over to him, dropping her phone on the ground carelessly as she knelt in front of him.

"Dean, it's okay."

Elena tried to lift his head to look at her but he wouldn't budge.

"Tell me what's going on," she said, knowing that whatever he was seeing must have terrified him.

"It's Lilith," he said, his entire body shaking. "She's here to take me back."

She didn't know what to do. There was no convincing him that Lilith wasn't there. Unless she could. Quickly moving, she scrambled onto the bed and got on her knees behind him, wrapping her arms tight around his torso.

"Hey, I'm here," she said, holding him tightly. "I'm real, Dean. Do you feel me here?"

He didn't answer for a long time before finally nodding.

"Good," Elena praised, pressing her forehead to his back as she took a deep breath. "Don't stop focusing on me, okay? I'm real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

"You're real," he repeated, leaning back into her.

"Yes, I'm real. Say it again," she instructed him.

"You're real. You're real. You're re-" he cut off, letting out a groan as he slumped forward.

"Dean?" Elena said, feeling his heart pick up pace beneath her hands that was splayed over his chest.

"You're…you're not real. You're not real."

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes as she realized that this was the end. If Sam and Bobby didn't do something in the next minute, Dean would be gone.

"I'm real," she said, holding him as tightly as she could. "Don't you dare fucking give up, you hear me?"

He didn't respond, gasping for air as he clawed at his chest. Lifting her head, Elena looked at the ceiling desperately.

"Castiel where the hell are you?" she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Help us, please!"

"Whyme? Why'dIgetinfected?" Dean choked out, convulsing in her arms.

She didn't dare loosen her grip, her tears soaking into his shirt as she silently called for someone to come help them.

"Please," Elena pleaded.

As soon as she said it, Dean slumped in her arms and she couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore.

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS EARLIER

It didn't take long for Elena to realize that Sam and Dean spent a lot more time in morgues than she originally anticipated. At this particular moment, she was standing between them staring down at a man who shouldn't have died.

"Agent Tyler, Agent Perry, Miss Kinsler, meet Frank O'Brien," the coroner said, sounding bored.

"He died of a heart attack, right?" Sam asked.

"Three days ago."

"But O'Brien was forty-four years old and, according to this…a marathon runner," Elena interjected, holding up Frank O'Brien's medical chart.

The coroner didn't seem fazed, shrugging his shoulders.

"Everybody drops dead sooner or later. It's why I got job security."

"Yeah, but Frank kicked it here," Dean said, gesturing to the body. "Now, just yesterday, two perfectly healthy men bit it in Maumee. All heart attacks, you don't think that's strange?"

"Sounds like Maumee's problem to me," he said simply, staring at them. "Why's the FBI give a damn, anyway?"

"We just want to see the results of Frank's autopsy," Dean told him.

His eyebrows rose slightly and he let out a laugh.

"What autopsy?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look but Elena leaned forward slightly, making sure not to touch any part of the corpse.

"It would be a lot of help if you'd do one for us," she said as sweetly as she could manage, even going so far as to reach out and touch his shoulder.

Sure enough, she was sitting a few feet away as Dean and Sam oversaw the autopsy.

"First dead body?" the coroner asked, glancing up at the brothers.

"Far from it," Dean said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, good. Because these suckers can get pretty ripe. Hey, hand me those rib cutters, would you?"

Sam took a deep breath while Dean turned towards a tray of sterilized instruments and picked one of them up to hand over. Elena grimaced at the sound of him cutting the ribs open and was happy to see that Sam looked a little green as well. Dean, however, was focusing on something else.

"Is that from a wedding ring?" he asked, holding up his hand. "I didn't think Frank was married."

"Ain't my department."

"Any idea how he got these?" Sam asked, pointing at a bunch of scrapes on Frank O'Brien's arm.

The coroner barely glanced up at them before answering.

"You know what? When you drop dead, you actually tend to drop. Body probably got scraped up when it hit the ground," he said before squinting closer at something in the body. "Huh!"

"What?" Sam asked.

"I-I can't find any blockages in any of the major arteries."

A sickening noise filled the air and Elena fought to keep from vomiting as the coroner dropped Frank's heart right into Dean's hands.

"Hold that a second, would you?"

Sam smirked over at Dean as he shifted uncomfortably, the heart cradled in his hands. Elena was glad that she'd excused herself to the side. Hunting was one thing. She never signed up for autopsies. Suddenly, as he cut into something else, the coroner managed to spray blood all over Sam's face.

"Oh, sorry. Spleen juice."

It was Dean's turn to look smug as Elena put her hand over her mouth and turned away for the rest of the autopsy. This was one thing that she was okay with not witnessing.

Elena still felt uneasy as they walked out of the hospital and made their way to the sheriff's station that stood a block away.

"I'm never going to forgive either of you for that," she said, trying not to remember all of the sights and smells that she wanted to forget.

"I'm the one who got hit with the spleen juice," Sam said, touching his face as if he expected to find more of it even after Elena cleaned it all off for him.

Dean didn't say anything. Elena assumed that he was still wigging out over having to hold the heart. She certainly wouldn't have responded to it well either. It wasn't until they reached the station that he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, opening the door for them both.

"You okay?" she asked as she passed.

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing at his jaw. "Just…queasy."

"Aren't we all?" Elena said with a shudder before following Sam up to the desk.

Instead of a receptionist, a fresh-faced deputy greeted them, standing up as they neared.

"What can I do for you today?" he asked, looking them over as he spoke.

"You can start by getting us a sit-down with your boss," Dean said as he and Sam showed off their fake badges.

Elena frowned at his gruff tone before giving the deputy a small smile.

"Please," she added, holding out her own FBI analyst identification.

"Oh I…" he glanced over his shoulder at a closed door before looking at them again. "He's not available right now."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the deputy and took a step back.

"Then I guess we'll just wait right here until he is available. Let us know, would you?" he said before turning around to sit down.

Elena and Sam followed, exchanging a look before taking the seats on either side of him. An uncomfortable silence filled the air and, after a few long minutes, she sent another smile the deputy's way to put him at ease. Just as he returned it, the aforementioned door opened and a middle-aged man stepped out with a grin.

"Linus, have you seen my-" he cut off, catching sight of them waiting. "Who are they?"

"Federal agents. I, uh…" Deputy Linus trailed off, looking nervously between them all.

"And you kept them waiting?" The sheriff demanded.

"You-you said not to disturb."

He ignored the deputy, waving them in.

"Come on back."

As they stood up and walked over to his office, he stopped them with a hand out.

"Shoes off," he said firmly.

They all exchanged looks before glancing down at the man's own sock-clad feet before slipping their shoes off and leaving them behind.

"Al Britton. Good to meet you," the sheriff finally said, shaking all of their hands.

"You too," Sam said before he gestured for them all to sit down in front of his desk.

"Thank you," Elena said.

Before he took his seat, they all watched as Britton pumped more alcohol gel than necessary into his hands, slathering them for a few moments before sitting down as well. Elena knew that she wasn't the only one who saw that as weird as she saw Sam and Dean look at each other.

"Okay. So, what can I do for uncle Sam?" the sheriff asked, finally taking his seat.

"Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body," Sam said, leaning forward.

Britton nodded slowly.

"They did," he said, sounding slightly upset. "Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were gamecocks."

Dean snickered for just a moment before receiving a stern look from the sheriff. Once he looked properly abashed, Britton continued.

"That's our softball team's name," he said defensively, awaiting Dean's solemn nod of response. "They're majestic animals. Anyway, I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was…he was a good man."

"Yeah. Big heart," Dean said with a nod.

Elena fought the urge to drive an elbow into his side, though she kept a neutral expression on her face.

"Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?"

"Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy," Britton nodded.

"You know what scared him?" Elena asked, opening her notebook to write down what he said.

"No. Wouldn't answer his phone," he said with a sigh. "Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest."

Before any of them could say another word, the sheriff seemed to realize something, jumped a little, and then started slathering his hands with alcohol gel again. This time Elena exchanged a wide-eyed look with Dean and Sam both, who looked like they were confused and catching onto something all at once.

"So, why the Feds give a crap?" he asked as he rubbed it in. "You don't really think there's a case here?"

"No, no. It's probably nothing," Dean said, his tone suggesting otherwise. "Just a heart attack."

"No way that was a heart attack," Dean reiterated as they walked out of the station towards the street where the Impala was parked.

"Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours," Sam said with a shake of his head.

"Something scared them to death?" Elena wondered aloud, glancing over at them. "What can do that?

"What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things," Dean said, sounding frustrated.

"Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off," Sam suggested as they crossed through a stoplight.

Elena hurried to keep up with them, wondering if they knew just how hard it was with their long legs and fast walking. Especially with the fact that she was wearing heels. But she didn't say a word of complaint, knowing that they got like this when a case started heating up.

"Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Dean asked.

"His neighbor, Mark Hutchins," she told them, remembering the small detail from the case file.

Before they could take another step, Dean's arm shot out and stopped them all in their tracks.

"Hang on," he said, peering at something ahead of them.

"What?" Sam said, looking in the same direction with confusion.

Dean waited for a moment before turning to face them both.

"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there," he said.

Sam and Elena both looked at who he meant only to see three boys who couldn't be a day over fourteen with all of the awkwardness and pimples that age brought.

"Let's walk this way," Dean tugged on Elena's sleeve and she followed, swapping perplexed looks with Sam at his strange behavior.

Once they reached the Impala, she stopped him from climbing in, pressing a hand to his forehead. He didn't feel feverish and, other than his actions, nothing else about him seemed off.

"You feeling okay?" she asked when he gave her a questioning look.

"I'm fine," he said all too quickly, climbing into the driver's seat before she could second-guess him.

With a disbelieving shake of her head, Elena slipped into the back and silently vowed to keep an eye on him.

"Tyler and Perry. Just like Aerosmith," Mark Hutchins said with a small, nervous smile.

He didn't seem happy to have two federal agents in his house, along with one federal analyst, but he knew better than to question their presence. As they all sat down in his living room full of reptiles in cages, Elena felt Dean shifting uncomfortably next to her and resisted the urge to force him to be still. After all, she was a little creeped out by all the creatures he had in there.

"Yeah, small world," Sam said, leaning forward to ask questions. "So, the last time you saw Frank O'Brien?"

"Monday, he was watching me from his window. I waved at him, but he just closed the curtains," Mark answered, stroking the head of the snake that was wrapped around his shoulders.

Elena couldn't help but watch with a slight grimace.

"Did you speak to him recently? Did he seem different? Uh, scared?" she asked, ready to jot down notes if need be.

"Oh, totally. He was freaking out."

Elena and Sam both looked over at Dean, who looked fairly freaked out himself. When he noticed their stares, he straightened up a little and cleared his throat.

"Do you know, uh…do you know what scared him?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"Well, yeah, witches."

"Witches?" Sam asked, exchanging a look with Elena before asking for clarification "Like…?"

"Well, Wizard of Oz was on TV the other night, right? And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him," Mark informed them.

Elena wrote that down with a frown, knowing that was beyond the irrational behavior they expected.

"Anything else scare him?" Sam questioned.

"Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elena caught sight of Dean glancing around and turned fully to see him staring into an aquarium with a large iguana inside. Digging her elbow into his ribs, she caught his attention and nodded at the neighbor, hoping he might stop focusing on everything but what they were trying to accomplish here. He nodded once, swallowing hard and loosening his tie.

"So, tell me. What was Frank like?" Sam asked.

Mark hesitated, glancing between all of them before shrugging.

"I mean, he's dead, you know? I-I don't want to hammer him but, he got better."

"He got better?" Elena said, looking at him questioningly.

"Well, in high school he was, he was a dick," Mark said quietly.

"A dick?" Sam said.

"Like a bully. I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together."

Dean let out a snicker, the first characteristic thing he'd done since they got here, but Elena and Sam still turned to glare at him, as well as Mark Hutchins.

"Mine included," he said, clearly offended.

Dean's smile disappeared and he grew serious again.

"So he pissed a lot of people off. You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?" he asked.

"Well, I don't..." Mark looked confused, trailing off for a few moments. "Frank had a heart attack, right?"

"Just answer the question, sir," Sam requested.

"No, I don't think so. Like I said, he got better. And after what happened to his wife," he said.

"His wife? So he was married," Dena spoke up again.

Mark nodded at them, looking slightly sad.

"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it."

Dean's gaze went to the snake around Mark's neck and the other man took the chance to smile.

"Don't be scared of Donny. He's a sweetheart," he said, stroking the snake once more. "It's Marie you got to look out for. She smells fear."

Mark nodded to the couch in time for Elena and Sam to peer around only to see a snake making its way down the cushion and onto the arm next to Dean, who gasped loudly and grew still.

"I think we're done here," Elena said, not liking the presence of the large albino snake one bit.

She grasped Dean's arm, nearly yanking him up and off of the couch as she nodded at Sam to wrap up the conversation. Once they got outside, she didn't ask him how he felt again, instead settling him in the driver's seat without listening to his complaints before documenting all of his strange behavior on her notepad. There was definitely something going on with him and she knew that they would have to call Bobby for his opinion if it got worse. Once Sam came out, they decided to split up, with him going to Frank O'Brien's house while Elena and Dean visited the county clerk's office to find information on his wife. Elena kept an eye on Dean but didn't see anymore strange behavior until they found the information they needed and got back to the car. It was hard not to notice his insistent scratching, especially when he let out a frustrated sigh every few minutes before shedding his suit jacket to scratch at his left forearm some more. She was glad when she saw Sam approaching the car, because she was ready to snap.

"Hey. Any luck at the county clerk's office?" he asked.

"I'm not sure I'd call it luck," Dean muttered.

"Jessie O'Brien was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in nineteen eighty-eight and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over," Elena explained to him, reciting all of the information they gathered. "Her death was ruled as a suicide."

"Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?" Sam wondered.

"No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi," Dean said as they all climbed into the car. "How was Frank's pad?"

"Clean. Searched it top to bottom. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur," Sam answered as Dean began driving back to their motel room.

"So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons," Elena said.

"Three down and ninety-seven to go," Dean grumbled.

Sam leaned over slightly, squinting at the dashboard before looking at his brother questioningly.

"Dude, you're going twenty," he said.

"And?" Dean asked as Elena leaned forward to confirm it.

"That's the speed limit," she said, giving him a concerned look.

"What? Safety's a crime now?" Dean scoffed.

Before she and Sam even had a chance to look at one another, they watched as he drove past their motel without even slowing down.

"Where are you going? That was our hotel," Sam demanded, sounding frustrated by now.

Elena, however, heard a strange noise and glanced around for the source.

"Sam, I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal," Dean said with a nervous laugh before pausing. "Did I just say that? That was kind of weird."

"Do you hear something?" Elena asked them, interrupting their conversation.

They all went silent as whatever it was got louder. Sam finally bent down, pulling his EMF meter out of his bag. It was going off like crazy, getting louder and faster whenever he held it close to the one person in the car acting strangely.

"Am I haunted?" Dean yelled with wide eyes.

The next morning, after a long night of almost no sleep, Bobby finally called Sam back just as they were going out to get some breakfast. As he excused himself, Elena stayed with Dean in the Impala. They made a silent pact not to leave him alone and he didn't really seem to mind it. As she watched him play air-drums to Eye of the Tiger, Elena couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip nervously. If he was seriously sick, where were the angels? Where was Castiel, ready to heal the man he said would help them defeat Lilith and stop Lucifer from rising? Why didn't they care? This wasn't the first time that Dean had a near-death experience since she met him and yet they didn't seem concerned about it at all.

"Look at this," Dean said, catching her attention.

She focused on the scratches on his arm, that looked suspiciously like the ones on Frank O'Brien, and didn't really know what to say. Thankfully Sam saved her by walking up and knocking on the roof.

"I just talked to Bobby," he said as they climbed out.

"And?" Dean asked, taking the box of donuts from his hand before tossing them into the car without taking one.

Sam frowned at him before continuing.

"Well, you're not gonna like it," he said.

"What?" Elena asked, stepping closer to them both.

"It's ghost sickness," Sam told them both.

"Ghost sickness?" Dean repeated.

He nodded, watching him for a reaction.

"God, no," Dean said, taking a step back with a stricken look.

"Yeah," Sam said as Elena looked between them with confusion.

They'd never mentioned ghost sickness to her. Was it something that was common? If so, why wasn't it on their list of possibilities?

"I don't even know what that is," Dean admitted after a few moments.

She rolled her eyes, realizing that they weren't as knowledgeable on the subject as she originally thought.

"Okay. Some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes," Sam said, looking eager to explain it.

"Okay, get to the good stuff," Dean said, waving the irrelevant information off.

"Symptoms are you get anxious, then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, but Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks," Elena interjected, causing Dean to nod in agreement.

"Well, I doubt he caught it from a ghost," Sam said, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "Once a spirit infects that first person, Ghost sickness can spread like any sickness through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero."

"Our very own outbreak monkey," Dean said.

"Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee over the weekend," Sam informed them. "Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims."

"Were they gamecocks?" Dean asked with a slight smirk, somehow finding a way to joke around in the wake of this discovery.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him before answering.

"Cornjerkers."

Dean let out a huff of laughter before growing serious again.

"So, ghosts infected Frank. He passed it on to the other guys and I got it from his corpse?" he asked.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"So now what, he has forty-eight hours before he goes insane and his heart stops?" Elena asked, hating the sound of this more and more.

"More like twenty-four."

"Super," Dean said, kicking at a rock on the ground. "Hey, why me? Why not you? I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice."

Sam hesitated before answering.

"Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too," he said warily, watching Dean. "Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."

"Okay," Dean said, not quite getting it.

"Basically, they were all dicks," Sam said simply.

If it were any other situation, and if Dean's life weren't in danger, Elena would have laughed.

"So you're saying I'm a dick?" he demanded.

"No, no, no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor," Sam explained.

"I don't scare people."

"Dean, all you do is scare people," Elena said, understanding everything now.

Okay, well then, he's a dick too," Dean said, gesturing to Sam.

"Apparently, I'm not," Sam said, almost smug in his response.

Dean glowered at him for a few moments.

"Whatever. How do we stop it?" he finally asked.

"We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up," Sam said.

"You thinking Frank's wife?"

"Who knows why she killed herself, you know?" Sam said with a nod before realizing something. "Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?"

Elena crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Dean. She already knew the reason, which was why she followed him out here in the first place.

"Tell him," she said.

Dean looked between them before glancing at the motel nervously.

"Our room's on the fourth floor," he said.

Sam shook his head, still looking confused.

"It's high."

With a heavy sigh, he looked at Elena and she shrugged, leaving it up to him.

"I'll see if I can move us down to the first."

"Thanks," Dean said quickly as he walked away.

Once they were settled in their new room on the first floor, Sam left to figure out what happened to Jessie O'Brien after her death. Elena stayed behind with Dean and he wasn't happy about it.

"I don't need a babysitter you know," he said, pacing the room as she sat on the couch.

"No one thinks that you need a babysitter," Elena sighed as she watched him. "Do you really want to be alone right now?"

He didn't answer, much to her frustration.

"I don't want to be sidelined," Dean said, sounding whinier than usual.

Elena knew that it was a side effect of the ghost sickness, or whatever, but she wasn't about to let him sit here feeling sorry for himself. She knew that he would do the same thing for her in return. Standing, she seized his arm and dragged him to the sofa before forcing him to sit.

"You're not being sidelined and you know it," she said, heading to the fridge to grab them both a beer. "What's going on with you is messing with your head. We split up to do stuff all the time. Right now, you and I are supposed to be researching. Start reading."

She shoved a book into one of his hands and the beer into the other before stepping back with a satisfied nod.

"You ever hear of bedside manner?" Dean grumbled, though he didn't seem too upset at her words.

"Not what I'm here for," Elena said, sitting on the other end of the couch with a book of her own.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, turning pages every so often. Then Dean tossed his book to the side and took a long drink.

"Dean," Elena sighed, ready to launch into a lecture about how he could only help himself by keeping busy and not concentrating on what was wrong with him.

Then he lurched forward and let out a wretched cough, clapping his hand over his mouth.

"Are you okay?" Elena asked, dropping her book on the ground carelessly to reach out towards him.

He didn't answer, staggering to his feet and towards the sink. She followed him as he continued coughing, blood spattering into the white bowl of the sink. Elena looked on with horror, at a loss of what else to do, until he finally spat out what looked like a wood chip and the coughing stopped. Just as he lifted his head to look at her with alarm, the door opened and Sam walked in.

"Everything all right?" he asked, hurrying to close the door and join them at the sink.

"Oh,yeah. Just peachy," Dean said hoarsely, picking up the wood chip to run it under the water.

"What the hell just happened?" Elena demanded.

Sam looked down at the chip in Dean's hand with a confused face.

"Tell me you found something," Dean said, rubbing at his throat.

"Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost," he said.

"Great," Dean scoffed, nearly tossing the chip into the trash.

"Wait," Elena said, stopping him. "You just coughed that up, Dean."

"He what?" Sam said, his eyes widening.

Dean waved them both off, stepping away from the sink.

"Dean stop. We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have."

He turned at Sam's words, looking confused.

"You," Elena clarified for him.

With a frown, he glanced down at the wood chip again.

"I don't want to be a clue."

"The abrasions, this, the disease, it's trying to tell us something," Sam said without hearing him, taking the chip away from him to inspect it.

"Tell us what, wood chips?" Dean said doubtfully.

"Exactly."

As Sam began researching what it could mean on the computer, Dean sank down to sit on one of the beds with his head in his hands.

"Hey," Elena said softly, sitting beside him. "You're okay."

"Yeah, this is delightful," he said, lifting his head to look at her.

Reaching up, she stroked his hair back from his face only to feel that his skin was hotter than normal beneath her touch. Now that he was feverish, Elena couldn't help but feel more worried.

"Wouldn't it be nice if the angels had a cellphone number?" she said, wanting to distract both him and herself from what was going on.

Dean let out a scoffing laugh.

"An angel with an iPhone," he said, shaking his head. "I'd pay money to see that."

"Maybe we can set Cas up," Elena said, rubbing her hand over his back without really thinking about it. "Make sure he's reachable."

"You really think he'd take our call?" Dean said.

She didn't answer because she wasn't sure. There was some part inside her that was desperate to trust the angels, especially Castiel. But another part of her realized that the fact that they weren't there meant that they weren't as dependable as she hoped they would be. Sure, they were fighting a fight against a legion of demons wanting to raise their devilish boss. But couldn't they take some time out of their busy schedules to pay attention? They could at least muster up a drive-by healing. If Elena thought that she could manage it, she would attempt it herself. But she knew for a fact that she wasn't practiced enough for it.

"Sam will figure this out," Elena said, changing the subject as she nodded his way. "He's not going to rest until you're okay. Neither am I. We'll figure this out."

Dean nodded, looking away from her.

"You asked me earlier if I want to be alone," he said, staring down at the ground as he spoke. "I don't."

Elena inhaled deeply before leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder.

"You won't be," she said quietly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "I promise."

Dean closed his hand around hers and they stayed like that until Sam, oblivious to their entire exchange, finally informed them that he had something. They sprang apart as if they'd been caught doing something much worse, avoiding each other's gazes as they prepared to leave. Sam looked clueless still, waiting at the door as they gathered themselves and headed out.

Once they reached the abandoned mill, Dean looked nervous all over again.

"I'm not going in there," he said as they climbed out of the car.

Elena and Sam both turned to face him.

"We need backup, and you're all we've got. Besides, we're not leaving you out here. You're going in, Dean," Sam said, leaving him no choice.

With a shaky sigh, he pulled a bottle of whiskey out of his jacket where neither of them saw him hide it and took a long drink.

"Let's do this," he said with a nod that failed at looking confident.

They waited until he walked around the car before opening the trunk to get a few weapons.

"It is a little spooky, isn't it?" Dean asked.

They both ignored him. When Sam handed him a gun, he shook his head.

"I'm not carrying that. It could go off," he said.

Sam gave Elena a look and she shrugged her shoulders, knowing that there was no use arguing with Dean right now. He wasn't in his right mind or none of this would be happening.

"I'll man the flashlight," he volunteered with a grin, picking it up to hold it against his chest.

"You do that," Sam said sarcastically.

Elena shook her head, grabbing a shotgun for herself as Sam grabbed a gun of his own as well as an EMF meter. It wasn't until they got inside and he turned it on that they realized the faulty logic there. It wouldn't stop going off as Dean walked along with them.

"EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?" he asked, noticing it.

"You don't say," Sam sighed, pocketing the useless instrument. "Come on."

Dean walked behind them as they made their way through the mill. It wasn't until Elena caught sight of something on the ground that she stopped them and bent down to pick it up.

"To Frank. Love, Jessie," she read off of the silver wedding ring before looking up at them. "Frank O'Brien's ring."

"What the hell was Frank doing here?" Dean wondered as she straightened up.

"No idea," Sam said.

They continued on, keeping an eye out for anything that might move. When they reached a back room full of lockers, they heard some rustling within one of them. Sam gestured for her to stay back with Dean and she did so, raising her gun in preparation as he counted down. She waited with bated breath, sensing Dean's tension beside her. Once Sam reached one and opened the locker, Dean let out a high-pitched scream as a cat leapt out and went running from the room. Both Elena and Sam looked at him with wide eyes as he cut off and inhaled deeply.

"That was scary!" Dean said with a smile.

They both turned away from him, walking off.

"Wait," Elena heard him say weakly as he followed them out.

After a long few minutes of finding absolutely nothing, they ended up in a dark, damp, dusty room with a few desks against the walls and some machinery in the middle. Sam picked up an ID card off of one of the desks, holding it up so that they could see the name.

"Luther Garland," he said.

"Hey, this is Frank's wife," Dean said, gesturing to a drawing that was pinned on a bulletin board over the same desk.

Sure enough, it looked a lot like the picture of the woman Elena saw in Jessie O'Brien's file.

"Plot thickens," San said.

"Yeah, but into what?" Dean asked, ripping the drawing off of the board.

Behind them, the machiens suddenly switched on and they all turned around with weapons, and flashlight, raised. All at once, Elena and Dean caught sight of someone who was clearly Luther Garland, judging by the picture on his ID, huddled in the corner of the room with his head ducked and his considerably large form shaking.

"Hey!" Sam said, noticing the same.

He and Elena shot at the apparition at the same time, causing it to disappear, only to look around and see Dean running quickly in the other direction.

"Guess we got the right place," Sam said as they headed out of the mill to find where he ran off to.

"Time to find out what happened to Luther Garland," Elena said.

By the time they pulled up to the Sheriff's station for the second time in as many days, all of them wearing their FBI cover clothing, Dean's time was seriously starting to wind down and it was causing stress for all of them. As he started to climb out of the car, Sam, who was now driving, stopped him.

"Elena should go in," he said.

"She doesn't have a badge," Dean told him with a frown.

"The deputy knows who she is," Sam said, waving that small detail off. "Besides, he likes her."

Dean's head turned quickly and he frowned at her as if it was her fault. With a shrug, she slid out of the car and smoothed out her dress and coat.

"I'll be right back," she said before shutting the door and making her way up to the building.

As she entered, she put on a false smile and waved hello to Deputy Linus, who flushed at the sight of her.

"Hi, hello," he said, waving back.

She walked up to the desk confidently, bracing her elbows on the tall counter before leaning forward.

"Could you do something for me?" Elena asked, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Sure," he said before backtracking quickly. "I mean, what do you need?"

"A file for Luther Garland? It'll be pretty old but we sort of need it for this case to wrap up a few loose ends. Agents Tyler and Perry don't think I can deliver but I promised them I'd get it. Don't make me look like an idiot, please."

Linus looked uncertain but then he typed the name into their computer and looked surprised.

"That case is from twenty-years ago, unsolved," he said, looking up at her.

"I'll bring it back, you have my word," Elena assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Sheriff's office door, which was unsurprisingly shut, before nodding in agreement. Elena waited as he walked into the back before returning with a rather thin file in his hand.

"Wasn't this a murder investigation?" Elena asked.

"It was way before my time, sorry," Linus said with a shrug.

"Then can I talk to the sheriff?" she said.

"Um, he's out sick today."

He was clearly lying but she knew better than to push it.

"Well, if you see him, will you have him call us? We're staying at the Bluebird," Elena said, taking a step back from the desk as she smiled at him. "Thank you for the help."

"Anytime," he said, nodding at her.

With a wave, she walked out only to pause just outside of the door.

"Who was that?" she heard Sheriff Britton demand over the phone's intercom.

"It was, uh, the analyst for those FBI guys.

"What did she want?"

"A file, Luther Garland's," Linus answered him.

The line went dead and there was no reply for a long time. Turning away, she finally walked off as she realized that Dean probably wasn't the only one who caught ghost sickness. If they got rid of Luther Garland's spirit in time, maybe they would save the sheriff too.

"What did you find?" Sam asked once she climbed back inside the car.

"Not much," Elena said, flipping through the file. "Cause of death is physical trauma. Not much there. He did have a brother."

"Is he still alive?"

She nodded, reading over the most recently updated information.

"He's in a nursing home on the south side of town," she said, looking up at them.

"Thanks," Sam said with a smile.

Dean nodded, though he was looking at her a little strangely.

"The deputy just handed it over to you?" he asked.

Elena shrugged, sitting back in her seat.

"What can I say? I'm charming when I want to be."

He scowled as Sam smirked and Elena couldn't help but wonder exactly what was going on there.

As they made their way into the nursing home and got past the receptionist, Dean's paranoia somehow increased tenfold.

"This isn't gonna work," he said, tugging at his tie. "Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail."

Sam stopped him short, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Calm down," he hissed, staring at him. "Deep breath, okay?"

Dean took a deep breath, letting it out shakily.

"There. You feel better?" Sam asked.

He shook his head, looking even more terrified than before.

"Just come on."

Dean moved to follow Sam, his hand going to his arm automatically.

"Don't scratch," Elena said, swatting it away just as they walked into the community room.

A nurse quickly pointed out the man that they sought and they made their way over to him slowly, as if to keep from startling him.

"Mr. Garland. Hi uh, I'm Agent Tyler. This is Agent Perry and Miss Kinsler, FBI," Sam said, catching the old man's attention. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother Luther."

"Let me see some I.D.," Mr. Garland said, narrowing his eyes at them.

Dean inhaled sharply but they both ignored him, holding out their badges as well as his own.

"Those are real, obviously," he said as if he couldn't keep the words in. "I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty."

Elena looked at him with a stern expression as Mr. Garland looked over their IDs closely.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, finally handing them back.

"Uh, well...according to the police, your brother Luther died of physical trauma," Sam began.

Mr. Garland scoffed, looking out of the window at the lawn.

"You don't agree," Elena said.

"No, I don't," he answered, looking up at her.

"Well, then, what would you call it?" Sam asked.

"Don't matter what an old man thinks," Mr. Garland said dismissively.

Elena stepped forward, sitting down to put herself on his level.

"Mr. Garland. We're just trying to get the truth on your brother," she said honestly, staring into his eyes. "Please."

After a long few moments of staring back at her, he finally sighed and relented.

"Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster," Mr. Garland said, shaking his head. "He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too different. Didn't matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn't matter he'd never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young 'uns. And I told myself there was nothing I could do."

"Mr. Garland, um...do you recognize this woman?" Sam asked, laying a picture of Jessie O'Brien on the table.

"It's Jessie O'Brien. Her man, Frank, killed Luther," he said confidently.

"How do you know that?" Elena asked.

He scoffed again, pushing the picture of Jessie back towards them.

"Everybody knows. They just don't talk about it. Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn't like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead."

Elena grimaced at the thought of the gruesome death. No one deserved that, especially not an innocent man like Luther Garland.

"And O'Brien was never arrested?" Dean asked, finally contributing something to the conversation.

"I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community. My brother was just the town freak."

"You must have hated Frank O'Brien," Sam guessed.

"I did for a long time, but life's too short for hate, son," Mr. Garland said, shrugging one shoulder. "And Frank wasn't thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but…that's fear. It spreads and spreads."

Elena glanced up at Dean, who was looking away uncomfortably.

"Thank you for your time, sir," she said, looking back at Mr. Garland. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"That's kind of you," he said with a nod as she stood.

With a smile, she turned around and followed the brothers out. As they approached the car, Dean rubbed at his forearm.

"Now we know what these are, road rash. And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road," he said.

"Makes sense. You're experiencing his death in slow motion," Sam agreed.

"Yeah well, not slow enough, huh? Say we burn some bones and get me healthy," Dean suggested, pulling out his keys.

"Dean, it won't be that easy."

His eyes widened as he looked at Sam.

"No, no, it'll be that easy. Why wouldn't it be that easy?" he demanded, his jitteriness back.

"Luther was road-hauled. His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road," Sam reminded him.

"There's no way we're going to find all the remains," Elena realized, rubbing at her forehead with frustration.

"You're kidding me," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Look, we'll just have to figure something else out," Sam said.

He looked at them before laughing almost maniacally.

"You know what? Screw this," he said, turning to walk away.

"Dean," Sam said, pursuing him.

"Come on. No, I mean, come on, Sam. What are we doing?" he said, whirling around to confront him.

"We're hunting a ghost."

"A ghost, exactly! Who does that?" Dean demanded.

Elena stepped forward, realizing that he was having a breakdown.

"We do," she said.

"Right. And that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?" Dean said, his voice growing more and more high-pitched. "I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us. We search out things that want to kill us. Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We are insane! I mean, who wants this life, huh?"

She moved closer to him, grasping his arm to keep him from pulling away. He could have easily shrugged her off but he didn't.

"You're sick, Dean. That's all that this is. We'll figure this out and get you better, okay? You just have to get in the car and come back to the motel with us. There's a solution somewhere out there and we," she said, gesturing between her and Sam. "We will figure it out."

"How do you know?" he said challengingly.

"Because I just do," Elena said, standing her ground. "Now get in the damn car."

Dean didn't argue, though he looked like he wanted to. She watched until he climbed in the backseat before nodding at Sam and sliding into the passenger's seat. Once they made it back to the hotel, she walked inside with Dean as Sam hung back to make another call to Bobby. This time they needed more than his research. They needed him there. Elena sat with him on the bed as they waited for Sam to walk in. Once he did, Elena looked up at him while Dean stared at the wall.

"What do we do now?" Dean asked, sounding helpless. "I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die, Sammy."

"No, Dean, you're not," he sighed, stepping forward. "I won't let that happen."

Dean looked over at him with a frown, standing up.

"Back?" he said, sounding confused.

Sam exchanged a look with Elena before reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Dean what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the panic in his eyes.

A few silent moments passed before Dean was slamming Sam into the wall.

"You get out of my brother, you evil son of a bitch!" he shouted.

Elena leapt forward, prying his hands off of Sam's throat. When it didn't work, she huffed and grasped his jacket, tugging hard with a burst of strength that she didn't know she had. Dean almost went flying back into her but she steadied him and turned him around, looking in his eyes.

"Dean, hey," she said, putting her hands on his cheeks. "Hey, come back to us. You're okay."

Slowly, his eyes cleared and he blinked away whatever hallucination he'd been having.

"Elena," Dean mumbled, reaching out to pull her into his arms.

She let him hold her, wrapping her arms around him as well as she looked over at Sam. Her panic was reflected in his eyes. They were out of time. Something had to be done soon or they were definitely going to lose him.

When Sam left to go meet Bobby at the mill, ready for the final showdown with Luther Garland, Elena stayed behind with Dean once more. She knew that she could have gone with them to see this through but she couldn't leave Dean. Especially when he was so completely filled with fear. As he laid back on one of their beds in fresh clothes with a cold washcloth pressed to his head, she sat next to him and stripped off her leather jacket, making sure that he knew that she was there.

"I always knew I was going back," Dean said, shuddering.

"Back?" Elena said, stroking her hand through his hair.

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Back to hell," he said, his voice no louder than whisper.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "You're not going back. We won't let that happen."

"There's no stopping it now," he said, turning over to meet her eyes.

Elena put her hand over his mouth, silencing him.

"Don't talk like that," she said, her voice harsher than she meant it to be.

He didn't move her hand but there was no agreement in his eyes either. Nothing she said would change his mind so Sam and Bobby would just have to save him. Suddenly, a loud crash came out of nowhere and the door to their motel rattled. Dean sat up quickly and Elena's hand fell from his mouth to grab the gun she set on the bedside table. Another crash and the door slammed open, sending their attacker staggering through with a gun in his own hand. Elena aimed at the sheriff as he advanced on them.

"What are you doing?" Dean said, standing up with a wary look.

"Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?" Britton demanded, aiming the gun at him.

Elena's suspicions were confirmed when they saw the blood from his left arm leaking through his shirt.

"Hey, you're - you're sick, all right? Just like me, okay?" Dean said, taking a slow step towards him. "You got to relax."

The sheriff shook his head and Elena mentally prepared herself to have to shoot him so that he wouldn't shoot Dean. It would be different than killing a monster. He was a human who was very sick. It wasn't his fault that he was doing this. But she had to protect Dean. There wasn't a choice.

"Frank O'Brien was my friend. So he made a mistake. So I didn't bust him. So what?" Britton shouted, advancing on Dean. "And you're gonna bring me down over that? No, sir."

"Stop," Elena said, bringing his attention to her. "Put the gun down, Sheriff. No one wants to hurt you."

She took a few steps towards him but he shook his head, staggering back.

"Get away from me!" he gasped, his hand going to his chest.

Both Elena and Dean recognized the sign. He was having a heart attack.

"Al, you got to calm down," Dean said, reaching towards him.

"Step back!"

He fell to his knees, his face screwed up in pain. The gun dropped from his hand as he hit the floor, his body convulsing several times before growing still. When Dean's eyes flickered to the gun at his feet, Elena lurched forward and kicked it away. She didn't know what he planned on doing with it but in his state of mind, it couldn't be anything good.

"Sit down," she said, reaching down to feel for Britton's pulse.

There was none. If the situation were different, she would be panicking over the dead sheriff on their floor. Instead Elena stood up, grabbed a blanket, and used it to cover his body before returning her attention to Dean. His face was pale and he was still staring at Britton's covered body.

"You're not going to die like that," Elena said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Dean didn't say anything, simply turning his head and closing his eyes. Pulling out her phone, Elena quickly typed a text to Sam with shaking hands.

HURRY UP

Sam frowned at the text from Elena, knowing that Dean must be getting a lot worse. They couldn't waste any time here. As he walked through the mill, he was tempted to shout for Luther to show himself. The man didn't deserve the death that he got but Sam wasn't about to let the ghost kill his brother.

"Any luck?" Bobby asked through the walkie-talkie.

"I don't know what's wrong, Bobby," Sam said with a shake of his head as he entered the room where they first saw Luther. "Last time he came right at us. It's almost like he's, uh...like he's scared."

Glancing around, he tried to figure out what they could do to pull him out.

"So now what?" the other hunter asked.

As Sam's eyes fell on Luther's desk, he got an idea.

"I guess I got to make him angry," he said, setting down his shotgun. "Hey, Luther!"

He started to tear the drawings of Jessie off of the bulletin board. The machines switched on, just as he suspected they would.

"Come on, Luther! Where the hell are you? What are you waiting for?" he yelled loudly.

When Sam felt a sudden burst of cold, he turned around only to find himself face to face with a very angry Luther.

"Gotcha," he said with a smile, lifting the walkie-talkie to his mouth.

Elena paced the room nervously, glancing at her phone every so often to make sure that Sam or Bobby didn't call to tell her that it was over. Dean was still sitting on the bed, scratching at his arm as he stared off into the distance. It was hard to stay away from him but she had no idea what to say. Nothing was getting through to him right now, since his delirium had only increased since Britton died in front of them.

"No! No!" he grunted.

Her head whipped around and she saw him curled in on himself, his hands over his ears.

"You are not real! You're not real!"

She rushed over to him, dropping her phone on the ground carelessly as she knelt in front of him.

"Dean, it's okay."

Elena tried to lift his head to look at her but he wouldn't budge.

"Tell me what's going on," she said, knowing that whatever he was seeing must have terrified him.

"It's Lilith," he said, his entire body shaking. "She's here to take me back."

She didn't know what to do. There was no convincing him that Lilith wasn't there. Unless she could. Quickly moving, she scrambled onto the bed and got on her knees behind him, wrapping her arms tight around his torso.

"Hey, I'm here," she said, holding him tightly. "I'm real, Dean. Do you feel me here?"

He didn't answer for a long time before finally nodding.

"Good," Elena praised, pressing her forehead to his back as she took a deep breath. "Don't stop focusing on me, okay? I'm real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real."

"You're real," he repeated, leaning back into her.

"Yes, I'm real. Say it again," she instructed him.

"You're real. You're real. You're re-" he cut off, letting out a groan as he slumped forward.

"Dean?" Elena said, feeling his heart pick up pace beneath her hands that was splayed over his chest.

"You're…you're not real. You're not real."

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes as she realized that this was the end. If Sam and Bobby didn't do something in the next minute, Dean would be gone.

"I'm real," she said, holding him as tightly as she could. "Don't you dare give up, you hear me?"

He didn't respond, gasping for air as he clawed at his chest. Lifting her head, Elena looked at the ceiling desperately.

"Castiel where the hell are you?" she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Help us, please!"

"Why me? Why'd I get infected?" Dean choked out, convulsing in her arms.

She didn't dare loosen her grip, her tears soaking into his shirt as she silently called for someone to come help them.

"Please," Elena pleaded.

As soon as she uttered the word, Dean slumped in her arms and she couldn't feel his heartbeat anymore.

"No," she said, realization hitting her. "No, no."

Elena finally let him go, guiding him back on the bed before feeling for a pulse in his neck. There was none. She wasn't giving up that easily. Pulling him down onto the ground without hurting him, she took advantage of the harder surface and tilted his head back before starting chest compressions. She hadn't done this to anyone since learning how to give CPR on a training dummy before lifeguarding for a summer job. It felt awkward and she couldn't keep the tears out of her eyes as she counted her compressions. Then she blew two long breaths into his mouth and started all over again.

When he finally took a deep breath, Elena thought that she might faint out of sheer relief. Moments later, her cell phone chimed with a text and she picked it up to read that Sam and Bobby had done it. No matter what brought him back, she didn't care. He was breathing again. When his eyes opened and he started to push himself up to sit, she couldn't help but launch herself at him, burying her face in his neck as she practically threw herself into his lap. He didn't seem to mind, his arms wrapping around her tightly as he pressed his face into her hair.

"You died," she gasped out, trying to get control over herself. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm good," Dean said gently, sounding just as relieved as she felt.

Pulling away, Elena smacked his arm twice before wiping away her tears.

"You are never allowed to do that to me again, you asshole," she said, pushing herself out of his lap.

He stopped her with a hand on her hip, stroking her cheek with the other.

"Thank you, for not making me do it alone," Dean said.

Elena didn't say anything, putting her hands on his shoulders before pressing her forehead to his.

"I can't lose you," she said quietly, almost hoping that he wouldn't hear.

She didn't want this to happen again. The brothers were important to her but this was going beyond just that. Elena promised herself that she wouldn't let someone in like that again for a long time, after what happened with Stefan. Yet here she was, making a fool of herself. But then Dean was pulling her in closer and his soft lips were on hers, gentle and undemanding. Elena wanted to lean into him. She wanted to deepen the kiss and do everything that she didn't let herself dream about. But then she remembered what they were dealing with, and what their job was right now.

"We can't," she said, pulling away from him.

"Why not?" Dean asked, sounding patient rather than hurt.

Elena opened her eyes to look into his.

"Things are good the way they are," she said.

"What makes you think they won't stay that way?" Dean asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly.

She shook her head, wishing that he wouldn't distract her from her slowly weakening resolve.

"We only met a few months ago," Elena reminded him.

"So?" he said, kissing her other cheek.

"I just got out of a relationship."

"I just got out of hell," he countered.

"All the more reason to stop right now," Elena told him.

Instead of pulling away and agreeing with her, as she somewhat wished he would, Dean skimmed his lips over her jaw and made her shiver.

"When are you going to stop making excuses?" he asked.

"When you start listening to them," she said, pulling his head up to look into his eyes. "This isn't a good time, Dean."

With a small smile that didn't belong on the face of a man who almost just died yet again, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

"It's almost the end of the world," Dean said, pulling away to look into her eyes again. "When is the timing gonna get better?"

Elena opened her mouth to speak but her phone rang and she jerked away from him without moving from his lap.

"Hello?" she said, hating how shaky her voice sounded.

"is he okay?" Sam asked.

She let out a sigh, feeling horrible that she hadn't let him know the outcome.

"He's fine," Elena assured him, sympathizing with his sigh of relief.

"Good," Sam said, sounding like he was grinning. "We'll be there soon, alright?"

"Yeah, we'll see you soon," she said, trying to make herself sound as normal as possible.

Once she hung up the phone, it was hard to meet Dean's eyes. He let her get up this time and she felt like she could breathe easier once she put a few feet between them.

"Sam and Bobby are going to be here soon," she said quietly, still avoiding his gaze. "I don't know about you but I'm ready to get out of this town."

Dean didn't say anything for a long time before finally standing up as well.

"Well let's get the hell out of here then," he said.

Elena finally looked over at him only to see that his back was turned to her.

A few hours later, they were sitting outside of a roadside diner with food. Elena was sitting on the Impala's hood eating her burger while Dean leaned against the car next to her and Sam rested against Bobby's truck with him.

"So you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?" she asked, trying her best not to imagine it.

"Iron chain etched with spell work," Bobby nodded.

"That's a new one," Dean said before taking a bite.

"It was what he was most afraid of," Sam said, sipping at his soda. "It was pretty brutal, though."

"On the upside, I'm still alive," Dean said once he swallowed. "So uh, go team!"

Elena smiled along with Bobby as Sam gave Dean a once over.

"How you feeling, by the way?" he asked.

"Fine," Dean said with a shrug.

"You sure, Dean?" Bobby asked, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Cause this line of work can get awful scary."

Dean scowled at him, not at all pleased at the teasing.

"I'm fine," he said, pushing up to stand. "You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything."

Bobby and Sam exchanged a look as Elena pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

"Awwww," Sam said in a baby-talk voice.

"He's adorable," Bobby sniffed before pushing to stand as well. "I got to get out of here. You three drive safe."

"You too, Bobby," Elena said, waving goodbye to him.

"Hey, thanks," Sam said, patting his arm.

As they watched Bobby drive off, she couldn't help but feel relieved once again that they made it through this.

"So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean," Sam said.

Elena's smile faded and she looked over at Dean, who clearly did not want to talk about seeing Lilith.

"Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?" he asked, glancing at Sam. "Howler monkeys. Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me."

Sam didn't look like he was buying it but they all knew that he wouldn't push it either.

"Right," he said.

"Just the usual stuff, Sammy," Dean said with a shrug, crumpling up the wrapper of his burger. "Nothing I can't handle."

Sam didn't argue, gathering all of their trash to throw it away. Before Elena could slide off of the hood, Dean turned and reached out, laying his hand over her knee.

"We good?" he asked, looking up at her.

Elena brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, smiling at him.

"Of course."

He looked relieved, nodding as he stepped back.

"Good," Dean said, squeezing her knee lightly before reaching out to help her down.

Elena couldn't help but feel a slight warmth in her chest at his touch and knew that she was screwed now, whether they went down that road or not. There was no denying what she felt for Dean and it would be harder to ignore than ever now that she knew he felt it too. Life was about to get a lot more complicated than it already was and Elena wasn't sure that she was ready for it.

I would love to hear what you think!

Next chapter - It's Halloween and the Winchesters + Elena have to deal with something witchy going on. Plus, Elena and Dean have to deal with the line they crossed with one another when it turns out that it's not as easy to forget as they thought.