AN: ...I don't think anyone takes a writing hiatus and expects to come back into such a Twilight Zone of a world. I hope everyone is safe and healthy. It's a pretty scary time, but it's also just wildly unusual. These are strange times, indeed. As I am just a recent college grad with a minimum wage job, I have no words of wisdom or comfort. Just know I think of you all often, really I do, this is a small community, so it's not hard for me to keep track of who reviews regularly and with such enthusiasm that it makes me giddy to read them.

I hope you are all well and have plenty to keep you entertained. I hope all of your home situations are good, and my heart goes out to you if it isn't. If this had happened 10 years ago, I know I would not be in a good place if I was trapped in my then home. Everyone is struggling for different reasons, some problems are more difficult to solve than others, none of them invalidate any of the others. I hope fanfiction is a place of solace for you all. I know it's been a place that I've felt welcomed and safe in for many years and in some of the hardest times in my life.

I don't really wanna spend a lot of time talking about it, but to put it simply, going against the new normal, I work 6 days a week, so I don't have a lot of free time. I'm so glad everyone is still so enthusiastic about this story, I just can't guarantee anything regular right now. I barely have time to think, let alone write. I absolutely would love to be writing more, but it's just not gonna happen. Some of this was written with my eyes barely propped open. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.

Addendum

(n.)

A thing to be added; an addition.

Chapter Thirteen

Faith

aka

Don't Tell Me Where the Road Ends

Nebraska: April 2018

When Dean wakes up in the hospital, Elena is perched on the end of his bed.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi." Her voice is soft.

"When you'd get in?"

"'Bout an hour ago," she says, picking at the scratchy blanket.

He feels like hell and she looks like hell, a perfect match.

"You work fast," he observes. "I thought it'd be another day before you got back."

She nods. "Took the private jet," she says idly.

He laughs. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you're really joking when you say those things."

She shrugs. "I'll never tell."

"How's Jeremy? You guys make it to that crazy performance art thing?"

She fixes him with a look. "We're really gonna ignore what happened?"

Dean returns her look far too fondly. "Hey, it happened, no use crying over spilt milk. Tell me about your brother, tell me about Brooklyn. Tell me something good, Gilbert."

She ignores him. "I should've been there."

She doesn't point out that he's the one who made her go. She hadn't recovered well from Burkitsville, and Dean had encouraged her to go see her brother, hoping it would help her get over whatever horrible memories had been triggered in that dark cellar.

He shakes his head. "Hey, you stop that, what's done is done. Seriously, I wanna hear about your visit with your brother."

She just looks at him. "He let some of his professors from school do some crazy collaborative design on his cast," she says finally.

"He didn't want his friends to draw dicks on it," he says knowingly.

She chuckles hoarsely, but nods her head. "Yeah, exactly. It's really cool though. I took pictures."

He gestures with his hand. "What are you waiting for? Bring 'em up."

She nods, climbing off of the bed to grab her phone out of her purse. When she comes back she leans against the side of the bed next to his head. He wants her crawl in there with him, as close as she can get, but he doesn't ask. If there ever were a time for asking, it would be now, but he still doesn't.

She shows him the pictures, tells him about her trip. Every once in a while a tear slips out or she gets too choked up to speak, but she's a good girl, doesn't let herself get caught up in it. She just keeps carry on, like he wants.

"I should go find Sam, let him know you're awake," she says eventually.

He nods, not wanting her to go, but knowing she needs a moment alone.

She hesitates, then swoops down, pressing her mouth to the corner of his.

"Be right back," she says, and then she's gone before she can notice the way his heart rate monitor speeds up.

He snorts. "I don't know what they're talking about," he says to himself. "It's working exactly the way it always does."

"Sir, I'm so sorry to ask. There doesn't seem to be any insurance on file." The nurse's tone is pleasant, apologetic.

Sam barely hears her. He shakes himself.

"Right, um," he stalls as he searches through his pockets. He hands over one of the many credit cards in his wallet.

She smiles at him and looks down to get to work. He takes the opportunity to finish his conversation with the two cops patiently waiting to the side.

"We could finish this up later."

Sam shakes his head. "No, it's okay. We were just taking a shortcut through the neighborhood, and our windows were rolled down. We heard some screaming when we drove past the house, and we stopped, ran in."

"And you found the kids in the basement?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Well, thank god you did."

A door opens behind them, and Sam looks back, seeing Dean's doctor, he turns back to the officers quickly. "Excuse me."

One of them nods and says, "Sure." But Sam is already hurrying over to the doctor.

"Thanks for your help," he calls after him.

"Hey doc, is he?" Sam starts to ask but finds he can't finish.

"He's awake now, his fiancée let me know, so I checked in on him."

"Fiancée?" Sam asks, hoping it's who he thinks it is.

He nods. "Pretty girl, said to tell you she just stepped out to make a call, she'll be back before you know it."

Sam feels flooded with relief. She's only been gone for a week, but it still hadn't felt right without her.

"How's my brother?" he asks.

The doctor's face is somber.

"The electrocution triggered a heart attack – pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart, it's damaged."

"How damaged?"

"We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point, but I'd give him a couple weeks at most, maybe a month."

Sam shakes his head, in denial. "No, no. There's gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment."
He shakes his head. "We can't work miracles. I really am sorry."

Sam catches sight of a dark head of hair behind the doctor. Focusing on her, he hurries away from the doctor. She sees him with a few yards between them still, so she's prepared when he reaches her. He barrels into her arms, almost knocking her off her feet, but she holds steady.

They're not really the kind of friends who hug, but it never crosses his mind that it should be weird. It isn't.

"I'm so glad you're here," he says, his voice tight with emotion.

"Where else would I be?" Elena replies, trying to keep her tone light. It's all that he needs to know that she already knows too.

After a moment he steps out of her embrace. She looks exhausted, but he is fiercely glad that she is there. If the doctor won't be of any use, then it's going to have to be the two of them. Sam and Elena, they'll save Dean. It's what they do.

She gently wipes the tears from his face.

"You know he'll hate that," she says.

He rolls his eyes. "He's an asshole."

She laughs and it sounds like a sob, but she nods her head. Taking his hand she leads him through the hallway to his brother's room.

When Sam and Elena enter the hospital room, Dean is already hard at work scribbling in a notebook with the TV in the corner on in the background.

They exchange a bemused look.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks.

"You ever actually watch daytime TV?" Dean asks, pointing at the tv with his pen, his attention still mostly on his scribbling. "It's terrible."

"I talked to your doctor," Sam says, not in the mood to play along.

"You ever wonder if the ad people are on drugs?"

Elena giggles at that, and Sam gives her a disapproving look.

"Dean," Sam says in a soft, reproachful voice.

He turns off the TV, writes something else down. "Yeah." Finally he puts his pen down, looking up at them. "Right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me."

"Absolutely not," Elena says flatly.

Dean looks at her with fond exasperation.

"What are you talking about? We're not gonna leave you here," Sam adds.

Dean ignores them both, looking at Sam. "You better take care of that car. I swear, I'll haunt your ass."

Sam shakes his head. "I don't think that's funny."

"Oh, come on, it's a little funny."

No one laughs.

Elena sits on the end of his bed again, her legs dangling off the side. He knows from the stubborn set of her jaw that there's no way he's getting her to leave.

"What can I say? It's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."

Elena whips her head around to glare at him.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't talk like that, all right? We still have options."

"What options?" Dean asks bluntly. "You got burial or cremation."

Sam's face contorts, a messy mix of grief, anger, and disbelief.

"I know it's not easy, but…I'm gonna die." He looks at both of them very deliberately. "And you can't stop it."

"Watch us," Sam declares stubbornly. Elena nods solemnly.

Dean shakes his head in fond exasperation. "Don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with the two of you."

"Annoy us for the rest of our lives," Elena says dryly.

Sam nods in agreement.

Dean rolls his eyes at them, then picks up his pen and writes something else down in his notebook.

Elena swings her legs up onto the bed, crosses them then leans in. "What have you got there?"

Dean doesn't reply, just smirks.

Sam circles around the bed to take a peek at the page. He grins.

"A bucket list."

Elena laughs.

Dean shakes his head. "We've got limited time here, people. There are just so many things I never got to do in this life." For a moment he sounds almost wistful, but then his tone changes before either of them can respond. "Like see Elena in a bikini." He grins wickedly at her.

Sam snorts.

Elena shakes her head. "You perv! You've seen me in my underwear way too many times."

Dean scoffs. "That's not even remotely the same thing and you don't get it."

"You're gross," she tells him with affection.

Sam, having seen the list with his own two eyes, can't help but speak up about a few of the things on the list.

"Actually, he has a lot of non-gross things on this list, surprisingly."

"Like what?"

"Take Elena out for her first legal drink."

For a moment, the mood is somber. Elena's birthday is in two months, the doctor had given Dean a month at most.

"We could always head north. I'm legal in Ontario," she says lightly.

Dean cants his head to the side. "Yeah, that'll work too."

Sam clears his throat. "He also wants to get married."

Elena actually laughs at that one. "Who in the hell would marry you?"

Dean glares at her, but it's ruined by the smile on his face.

"I dunno," he admits easily. "I always thought Elena Winchester sounded nice though."

For a moment they're all quiet. It's all hidden by a light, humorous tone, like it's all a joke, but Sam really believes Dean is being honest.

If Sam has anything to say about it, it'll happen.

"Wow, apparently dying is like getting a personality transplant," Elena tells Sam seriously.

He chuckles.

Dean shakes his head, almost pouting. "Don't be a brat, Gilbert."

Elena heaves a dramatic sigh. "Sorry, but I remember the rules still. My dad always said I couldn't get married until I finished college." She shrugs like that's the end of the joke.

Dean narrows his eyes at her. "You're not even in college."

She waves her hand at him. "Thems the rules, Winchester."

He snaps his fingers, shaking his head. "Damn."

"This is John Winchester, I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean…"

Sam clenches his teeth, waiting for the beep.

"Hey Dad, it's Sam. Uh, you probably won't even get this, but, uh. It's Dean." He pauses, sucking in a breath. "He's sick and, uh, the doctor says there's nothing they can do. Um…" he trails off, clears his through, rallying. "But, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? So don't worry, 'cause I'm, uh, gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. All right, just wanted you to know."

He hangs up, glancing down at his laptop and the piles of research all over his bed. Elena had gone out in search of food not too long before.

For a moment, loneliness and fear consume him. A knock at the door breaks him out of it. He's pretty sure Elena didn't forget her key, but he can't imagine who else it could be. He gets up to open the door.

He's more than a little shocked to see Dean there, huddled in a hoodie and barely able to stand.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demands.

"I checked myself out," Dean explains as he painfully makes his way into the room. "Where's Elena?"

Sam ignores the question. "Are you crazy?"

"I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot," he says bluntly. "Which brings me back to my original question, where's Elena?"

Sam snorts and shakes his head.

"She went out to get food," he says begrudgingly. He closes the door. "You know this whole 'I laugh in the face of death' thing – it's crap. I can see right through it, and so can Elena."

"Yeah, whatever dude, I'm gonna text her and ask her to bring me some pie, man can't die without one last pie."

He makes his way over to the bed, Sam trailing after him anxiously.

"Have you even slept? You look worse than me."

"I've been scouring the internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal. Elena's been going through her own list, you know she speaks like six languages?"

Dean nods in fondness. "Yeah, she gets bored easy, she's always deciding to learn some new language or read some giant boring ass book."

Sam nods, taking a seat across from Dean. "Anyway, she's been calling all these witches she knows, apparently there's all this cultural difference between magic sources and types, and healing magic's just kinda vague and spotty, but they know all kinds of stuff."

Dean is paying more attention to the message he's sending to Elena. "Yeah, I know, why're you two doing all of this?"

Sam looks at him like he's dense.

"We're looking for a way to help you." He barrels on. "One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back, told me about a guy in Nebraska – a specialist."

Dean sighs. "You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"I'm not gonna let you die, period. Neither is Elena. We're going."

He shakes his head. "Sammy…"

Sam cuts him off. "We're going, you have a problem with that, take it up with Elena when she gets back."

He sits back, secure in the knowledge that his brother has never denied Elena anything she's ever asked of him.

The worst part about the hospital was sleeping alone. He falls asleep much quicker that night in the hotel room, Elena in bed beside him, the way it's supposed to be.

Elena is the one who'd insisted they all get some sleep before they go, unwilling to let Sam drive after so many sleepless nights.

Not too long after the lights go out, Elena reaches out and takes his hand. A few moments later, she moves closer, until they're almost touching.

She raises her lips to his ear.

"I don't want you to die," is all she says.

"I don't wanna die," is his answer.

She kisses him on the cheek, only it's so dark that she misses and half of her mouth overlaps his before she retreats. It's all he can do to not follow her back to her side of the bed.

They fall asleep holding hands.

Sam can see that Dean doesn't want to be fussed over, but he's not at all surprised when Elena slips under his arm, steadying him without making it obvious. Dean has never shied away from Elena's touch and he certainly isn't gonna start now.

Sam smiles at them, walking a few steps behind them as they make their way towards the tent.

"Man, you are a lying bastard," Dean calls over his shoulder. "I thought you said we were going to see a doctor."

"Pretty sure Sam's been calling him a specialist," Elena says.

He glares at her. "You're in on this too?"

She shrugs. "Are you really all that surprised?"

"This guy is supposed to be the real deal," Sam adds.

"I can't believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent." Dean throws him an annoyed look. "We could be on a beach somewhere."

Elena laughs. "Sure, that's our next stop."

A passing woman tells them that the reverend is a great man. Up ahead, a cop is arguing with a protestor.

"I take it he's not part of the flock," Dean says dryly.

"Well, when people see things they can't explain, there's controversy," Sam replies

Dean scoffs. "Yeah, but come on, Sam, a faith healer?" He looks at Elena. "You can't seriously agree with him."

She looks up at him solemnly. "I'd try anything at this point," she says simply.

He sighs, leaning into her.

Sam chimes in. "Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean."

"You know what I got faith in? Reality – knowing what's really going on."

Sam shakes his head. "How can you be a skeptic with the things we see every day?"

"Exactly. We see them, we know they're real," Dean points out.

"But if you know evil's out there, how can you not believe that good's out there too?" Sam asks.

"Because I've seen what evil does to good people."

A blonde woman interrupts them. "Maybe God works in mysterious ways."

"That's a very good point," Elena says. "And a great place to shelve this conversation for let's say another decade."

It hasn't escaped Sam's notice that she hasn't said much of anything about what she does and doesn't believe in.

"I'm Elena, and this is Dean and Sam."

The blonde holds out a hand, but Sam is the only one with one free to shake.

"Layla," she says. Addressing Dean, "So if you're not a believer, then why are you here?"

"I'm being held hostage by this pretty little thing," Dean says with no small amount of affection, gesturing to Elena, who is doing an excellent job of not looking in the least bit like she's holding him up at this very moment.

Elena smile sunnily. "He has to do whatever I tell him to – or else."

Layla laughs at that.

An older blonde approaches her. "C'mon Layla, it's about to start."

Layla smiles at them and lets herself be led away.

Dean looks down at Elena. "Do you own a bathing suit?"

She rolls her eyes. "If I tell you, will you get in the damn tent?"

He considers this. "Why the hell not?"

Sam and Elena exchange an amused glance.

"It's red," she says simply.

Dean grins. "Good enough for me." With that, he lets himself be guided into the tent.

"You know, you could've prevented that entire argument just by telling him that first," Sam points out to Elena in a low tone.

She shrugs her free shoulder. "Yeah, I know. I wanted to hear what you had to say."

Inside the tent, Dean can't help but point out the security cameras.

"Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over."

Dean leans on Elena, nudging her towards some seats in the back.

Sam shakes his head. "C'mon, we're sitting up front."

"What? Why?"

Elena and Sam ignore him, guiding him toward the front of the tent.

"Perfect," Sam says when he finds three seats in the second row right behind Layla and her companion. He goes in first.

"You take the aisle," he tells Dean.

Dean looks annoyed but then Elena whispers something in his ear, and he settles down.

The Reverend Le Grange, wearing dark sunglasses, is guided to the pulpit by a woman. "Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?"

People actually answer him, some of them leaning forward or rocking back and forth.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act."

Sam notices a rather unusual cross at the front of the room.

Dean, on the other hand, is giving Elena a significant look so she knows exactly how many immoral, unspeakable acts he's thinking about. Her only response is to bite the corner of her mouth. It's enough for him; he leans back, satisfied.

"But I say to you, God is watching. And God rewards the good, and he punishes the corrupt."

That gets a particularly enthusiastic response.

"It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal, by helping me see into people's hearts."

"Amen," the congregation says.

"Yeah, or into their wallets," Dean mutters into Elena's hair.

"You think so, young man?"

The whole place goes quiet, and Dean looks put on the spot.

Elena and Sam are giving him identical looks that scream: You brought this on yourself.

"Sorry," Dean says as politely as he can.

"No, no, don't be," Reverend Le Grange says, surprising everyone. "Just watch what you say around a blind man. We got real sharp ears."

That draws a laugh from the crowd.

Dean sinks back into his seat, doing his best to hide behind Elena's hair. He's close enough that he can feel her inhale sharply in two quick successions, not quite laughing at him, but close enough.

He tugs on her hair but that only earns him a raised eyebrow.

Reverend La Grange isn't done with him.

"What's your name, son?"

Seeing no other choice, he answers. "Dean."

"Dean," he repeats, trying it out. He nods his head decisively. "I want you to come up here with me." He gestures him up.

People start applauding.

Dean gives Elena and Sam a look of trepidation. Elena only needs to cant her head towards the front and then Dean is sighing and standing up.

"Maybe you should pick someone else," he says, unable to make himself move any further.

Reverend Le Grange chuckles. "I didn't pick you, Dean. The Lord did."

The congregation cheers him on.

Elena grabs his hand, squeezing it briefly before she lets go, so he starts moving.

Sue Ann comes to help him up the stairs.

"You ready?"

"Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I'm not exactly a believer," Dean says honestly.

"You will be, son. You will be." He addresses the congregation again. "Pray with me, friends."

A lot of people raise their hands in the air, their heads tipped back in worship.

Sam and Elena keep their gaze fixed on Dean. Elena reaches out and takes Sam's hand.

Le Grange reaches out a hand, sliding it up Dean's shoulder and across his face, cradling his head.

"All right now." He smiles, and repeats the words with more conviction.

Dean falls to his knees and Sam and Elena get to their feet.

"All right now."

Dean keels over, unconscious.

"Dean," Sam says, Elena already out of the aisle and halfway to the platform.

She has his head in her lap, Sam shakes him.

He opens his eyes with a gasp.

Elena whispers his name and he meets her eyes. She is aware of some darkness behind her, but she never takes her eyes off Dean.

"Say something," Sam demands.

Dean looks around in confusion. Behind the smiling pastor, Dean sees a thin man in a suit, his features strangely distorted. He blinks and he is gone.

Elena makes Dean a doctor's appointment for the next day. She can see that Sam wants to go now, wants confirmation right away. She can also see that Dean is worn out and disturbed, so she doesn't really feel bad for bossing them around.

In bed that night, listening to Sam toss and turn, Dean counts Elena's breaths. A long sigh, three short, uneven breaths, something like a hum – she's still awake.

"What was it like when you died?" Dean asks, his voice low. He's still listening, he hears how she stops breathing, so he knows she's awake.

"Hypothetically?" Elena asks finally, and he could kick himself for forgetting the rules.

"Yeah, hypothetically, of course."

She sighs. "Hot, painful, desperate." She pauses so long he's convinced she's not going to continue. "I was giving and someone was taking greedily, and I gave until there was nothing left. I gave because there was no other choice. Then I had nothing left to give, so I died."

She moves closer, almost nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

"At first, I didn't want to come back."

He realizes with a jolt, that she is telling him about resurrection without prompting – the first time he's gotten more than he's asked for from her. It's the first time that he can believe that she means it when she says she desperately wants to tell him everything she is hiding.

"What did that feel like?" he asks after a moment.

"Like guilt," she says instantly, like she's thought about explaining this many times. "Like guilt and grace," she says, amending the bad to tack on the beautiful.

Grace – the word reminds him of something Sam had asked her earlier.

"What do you believe in, Gilbert?" Her surname tastes sweet in his mouth, it always does. It's funny sometimes, how good he's gotten at replacing one word with another.

She answers right away, again. "You." Like this too is something she's thought about saying again and again.

He sucks in a breath, surprised, awed, overwhelmed by the simplicity of her answer.

"And your dad, and Sam. People who take action." She adds the rest, both of them knowing it's in order to tip the scales, make it balanced again. Anything to stop him from crashing into her with reckless abandon.

"Yeah, I believe in that too," Dean says. "Especially you."

"So you really feel okay?" Sam asks.

The three of them are in a hospital room, Sam moving around the space like an Energizer Bunny while Dean and Elena sit and watch from the exam table.

"I feel fine, Sam," Dean says flatly.

Elena leans on his shoulder, picking up on his mood immediately.

Just then, the doctor comes back in.

"Well, according to all of your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was," she says. "Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble…"

From behind the doctor, Sam can't control his smiling.

"But, uh, still it's strange – it does happen."

"What do you mean, 'strange'?" Dean asks.

"Well just yesterday, a young guy like you – 27, athletic – out of nowhere, heart attack," she explains.

Dean grimaces. "Thanks, doc."

"No problem," she replies before departing.

"Strange coincidence," Elena says.

Dean nods his head. "Yup."

"Maybe it's just that – a coincidence," Sam says. "People's hearts give out all the time, man."

Dean shakes his head. "No, they don't."

"Look Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth?" Sam asks, desperately clinging to the good – his brother is going to live – and ignoring the bad – someone else might've died in his place.

"Of course we do," Elena says.

Sam looks at her, feeling a little betrayed.

She shrugs. "It's our job."

"Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?" Sam suggests.

Dean shakes his head, standing up. "Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why."

He goes over to get his jacket from the chair.

"What feeling?" Sam asks.

Without turning around, he starts putting on his jacket. "When I was healed, I just – I felt…wrong. I felt cold, and for a second, I saw someone – this old man. I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit. Elena's right, this is our damn job."

"If there was something there, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately," Sam points out.

"Oh, excuse me, psychic wonder. You're just gonna need a little faith on this one."

"Okay, we're gonna leave now," Elena says abruptly, she slides off of the exam table gracefully. "We're going to do our job and figure out what happened, but we also are not going to fight about it." She turns to Dean. "You're alive, we can't undo what's already done. All we can do is prevent it from happening again."

He makes a face at her but nods, and it's as simple as that. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Why don't you check out the heart attack guy. We're gonna visit the reverend."

Elena smiles and accepts a glass of iced tea from Sue Ann with absolutely no intention of drinking it. You can't serve unsweetened iced tea to a Southerner and expect them to expect them to enjoy it, but really, what can you expect from a Midwesterner?

It only takes a twitch of Elena's mouth for Dean to know what she's thinking. He takes a sip of his own tea to cover up his chuckle.

"I feel great," Dean tells Reverend Le Grange. "Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened."

"A miracle is what happened," Sue Ann tells him cheerily, sitting down across from them. She gestures lovingly to her husband. "Miracles come so often around Roy."

"When did they start? " Dean asks. "The miracles?"

Elena flashes him a look. He knows he's not being subtle at all; he sounds like an interrogator, but he's not in the mood to play nice.

"Woke up one morning stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer, told me I had maybe a month." He pauses. "So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'you just keep right on praying.' I went into a coma."

Dean glances at Sue Ann who is beaming frantically.

"Doctor said I wouldn't wake up, but I did, and the cancer was gone." He takes off his glasses. "If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it."

"That is a miracle," Elena says with even-toned sweetness.

Roy beams.

"And suddenly you could heal people?" Dean asks.

There must be something in his tone that gives him away, because Elena reaches out to place a hand on the back of his neck.

Roy nods. "I discovered it afterward, yes." He puts his glasses back on. "God's blessed me in many ways."

"And his flock just swelled overnight," Sue Ann says, still so cheery and beaming. She looks at her husband. "And this is just the beginning."

Dean nods. "Can I ask you one last question?"

Roy nods encouragingly. "Of course you can."

"Why? Why me?" He's careful not to look at Elena. "Out of all the sick people, why save me?"

He can feel the featherlight weight of her soft fingers curled at the back of his neck, but he keeps his eyes on Reverend Le Grange.

"Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart and you just…stood out from all the rest."

Dean swallows. "What did you see in my heart?"

"A young man with an important purpose – a job to do." He nods firmly. "And it isn't finished."

Sam isn't exactly happy with what he finds. A man in the prime of his life who was running from nothing when he died, and a clock frozen at the exact moment of his death. He doesn't want to be wrong, because this isn't something he can be sorry about.

Dean staying alive is never something he can be sorry about.

Dean and Elena are leaving the Le Grange home just as Layla is walking up the pathway.

"Dean, Elena, hello," she says sweetly.

Elena smiles. "Hi, Layla."

Dean nods vaguely.

"How are you feeling?" Layla asks Dean.

The set of Dean's shoulders is all Elena needs to know how much he hates that question right now.

"I feel good – cured, I guess," he says with as much enthusiasm as he can muster. Before she can say anything else, he asks a question of his own. "What are you doing here?"

"You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the Reverend."

The older woman she'd been with before ascends the stairs with determination, a grim look on her face.

"Layla," Sue Ann says from the porch.

"Yes, I'm here again," she says somewhat sheepishly. She continues her way up the stairs, stopping a step below Sue Ann.

Elena and Dean step out of her mother's way, lingering out of curiosity.

"I'm sorry, but Roy is resting, he won't be seeing anyone else right now."

"Sue Ann, please," Layla's mother says.

Sue Ann looks at her with reluctance.

"This is our sixth time. He's got to see us."

Sue Ann keeps her tone gentle but firm. "Roy's well aware of Layla's situation, and he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows." She speaks earnestly. "Have faith, Mrs. Rourke."

With a gentle squeeze to Layla's shoulder, Sue Ann departs back into her house.

Elena leans her cheek against Dean's shoulder, a contemplative look on her face.

Mrs. Rourke turns to them suddenly, glaring at Dean.

"Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted."

Elena moves in front of him, the barest twitch of her mouth giving away her fury.

"Mom, stop," Layla says, only wanting to prevent her lashing out.

"No, Layla, this is too much. We've been to every single. If Roy would stop choosing strangers over you, strangers who don't even believe…" she trails off with a pointed look at Dean. "I just can't pray any harder."

"Layla, what's wrong?" Dean asks.

She still smiles like it can make everything in the world right. "I have this thing." She shakes her head, shrugging like it's not a big deal.

"It's a brain tumor," Mrs. Rourke tells him. "It's inoperable. In six months the doctors say…"

Layla puts a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder.

Before Dean can say anything, Elena cuts in.

"We're sorry, but we have to go now." With a light tug of her fingers, she pulls him away.

They're already at the gate by the time Layla responds.

"It's okay," she says, knowing they can't hear her, but needing to hear it herself.

"No, it isn't," her mother responds.

"You wanna slow down, Elena?" Dean asks.

She's approaching the Impala at a near run, and since his hand is still in hers, she's dragging him with her.

She stops abruptly, letting go of his hand to turn around and wrap her arms around him.

"You didn't need to hear that," she murmurs into his ear.

"I don't get it," he says instead of responding. "Why me and not her?"

"I don't know," she replies honestly. "I can't be upset about it though."

He tenses.

"You can't make me sorry that you're going to live," she says simply. "I can't make you not want to save everyone. Let's leave it at that."

He slides his arms around her waist, holds on tight.

"Sure, we'll leave it at that."

Sam is typing away on his laptop when they get back. Dean dumps his jacket on the ground and Elena sprawls across the bed.

"What'd you find out?" Dean asks.

"I'm sorry," Sam says quietly. He's had a bit of time to come around to the idea of the word.

Something in his tone makes Elena sit up.

"Sorry about what?" Dean asks.

"Marshall Hall died at 4:17."

"The exact time I was healed."

Sam nods. "Yeah. So I put together a list. Everyone Roy's healed – six people over the past year – and I cross checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died, and each time, the victim died of the same symptom Le Grange was healing at the time." Sam can't quite look at Dean as he hands over his research.

"Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?" Dean asks.

"Somehow, Le Grange is trading a life for another."

Dean puts down the paper. "Wait, wait, wait, so – Marshall Hall died to save me?"

Sam swallows. "Dean…the guy probably would've died anyway." It takes a herculean effort to say the words. "And someone else would've been healed."

Dean gets up abruptly. "You never should've brought me here," he says shortly.

"Dean, I was just trying to save your life."

"Sam, some guy is dead now because of me."

He shakes his head. "I didn't know."

Dean is quiet, so Sam continues. "The thing I don't understand is, how is Roy doing it? How is he trading a life for a life?"

Elena clears her throat. "I know a spell," she says.

The both turn to look at her.

"It wouldn't work in this situation," she tacks on hastily, not looking at either of them. "He was a stranger to you, after all, but there's a spell, a parent can trade their life for their child. But that's a willing-" She clears her throat. "So…it might be something similar." Her hands shake ever so slightly. "But I can't imagine a man of faith being okay using witchcraft, even to save people."

Dean shakes his head. "He's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"The old man I saw onstage. I didn't want to believe it, but deep down I knew it."

"You knew what? What are you talking about?"

Everything Dean is saying is only making Sam more confused.

"There's only one thing that can give and take life like that."

Sam looks at him blankly.

"We're dealing with a reaper."

"You really think it's the Grim Reaper – like angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head. "No, no, no, not the reaper – a reaper."

He looks at Elena expectantly. Sam and Dean are seated at the table, but Elena is sprawled on the bed, halo of research surrounding her. She's wearing Dean's hoodie and Sam wonders briefly if she ever wears her own clothes anymore.

She sighs, but obediently responds. "There's reaper lore in pretty much every culture. They go by many different names. It's more than likely that there's more than one."

"Keep it up, Gilbert, you'll make the honor roll."

Sam ducks his head, but it's nice, almost, to return to their routine. He clears his throat. "But you said you saw a dude in a suit."

Dean raises an eyebrow, almost amused. "What, you think he should've been working the black-robe thing?"

Sam has no response to that.

He gestures at him. "You said it yourself, that the clock stopped, right?"
Sam nods.

"Reapers stop time. You can only see 'em when they're coming at you, which is why I could see it and you couldn't."

"Maybe," Sam says noncommittally.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam," Dean responds impatiently. "Elena called one of her witches, that spell only works with parents and children. So the question is, how is Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"He isn't," Elena says.

Dean and Sam look at her.

"Sue Ann is." She shrugs, looking back at Dean. "Think about his story, he went into a coma, he was supposed to die, no one thought he would wake up, and then he did. If he was telling the truth, he wouldn't have been able to do anything, it makes more sense if she's controlling it."

Dean nods slowly. "Good point. We still don't know how, though."

"That cross," Sam says vaguely.

"Care to share with the class?" Dean asks.

"There was this cross. I noticed it in the church tent." He reaches out for a set of tarot cards. "I knew I had seen it before."

Sorting through the cards he finds the one he was looking for.

"Here." He hands it over to Dean.

Elena gets up, ambling over from the bed to lean against Dean's chair, peering down at the tarot card bearing Death.

"A tarot?" Dean asks.

"It makes sense," Sam says. "Tarot dates back to the early Christian era, right? When some priests were still using magic – and a few of them veered into the dark stuff – necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it."

"So Sue Ann is using black magic to bind the reaper?"

"If she is, she's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white. We sure that Roy doesn't know?"

Elena shrugs. "Maybe she told him after. I still think she's our most likely suspect."

Dean gets up suddenly, making his way to the kitchenette with his empty coffee cup. He places it in the sink, leaning against the counter lost in thought.

"Okay, then we stop her."

"How?"

"You know how," Dean replies seriously.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asks, incredulous. "We can't kill Sue Ann, or Roy."

Elena cuts in smoothly. "And we can't let anyone else die."

Dean nods. "Sue Ann, Roy – whoever, they're playing God – deciding who lives and dies. That's a monster in my book."

Sam shakes his head. "No, we're not going to kill a human being."

"Human beings can't be monsters?" Elena retorts bluntly.

Sam looks at her, feeling slightly betrayed.

She shrugs. "I don't love it, but Dean is right. We have to stop what's happening. Maybe killing them isn't our only option, but I don't hear any other suggestions right now."

"We can't kill Roy or Sue Ann, we can't kill Death, any bright ideas, College Boy?"

Sam sighs. "I really hate when you guys team up on me."

They both look at him expectantly.

He grasps at straws. "If Sue Ann is using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we got to figure out what it is and how to break it."

"If they're using a spell, there might be a spell book," Sam says as they get out of the car on the Le Grange's property.

"Grimoire," Elena corrects absentmindedly, picking her way through the puddles.

Without looking, Dean wraps an arm around her waist, swinging her over a particularly large puddle with ease. He sets her on her feet gently, keeping his arm around her.

It's there, clear on his face, how pleased he is to be able to lift her with ease again. It's no longer an absentminded act of affection, now that he knows what it's like to be without strength.

"Grim-what?" Sam asks.

She shakes her head, amused. "Grimoire, it's what witches call their spell books. They're usually passed down through their family from generation to generation."

"Cool," Sam says.

She chews on her lip for a moment, clearly in contemplation. "As far as I know, there's very little magic that can be done without the magic-doer being a witch," she says slowly.

Dean considers this. "So you're saying whoever's doing this probably comes from a bloodline?"

She nods.

"Could you find out if Le Grange has any witch ancestry from one of you friends?" Sam asks.

"Probably, but I'd need Sue Ann's maiden name too."

Dean nods. "Add it to the list."

"Right, grimoire, maiden name," Sam says.

"Hurry up," Dean says, checking his watch. "Service starts in 15 minutes. Elena and I will stall 'em."

"Roy Le Grange is a fraud!" a protestor interrupts them. "He's no healer."

He passes them a pamphlet.

"Amen," Dean says, taking off with Elena to the church tent.

"Keep up the good work, brother," Sam says to the protestor seriously, heading in the opposite direction towards the house.

Inside the tent, Dean's phone rings much sooner than either of them anticipate.

"What do you got?" he asks by way of answering.

"They're choosing victims they see as immoral, and I think I know who's next on his list," Sam says without any preamble. "Remember that protester?"

Elena is leaning against Dean's side, close enough to hear.

"The guy in the parking lot?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. I'll find him, but you can't let Roy heal anyone, all right?"

"Copy that," Dean replies.

"Tell Elena that Sue Ann's maiden name is Sanderson."

They hang up. Elena having heard Sam, slips her phone out of her pocket.

"I'm gonna make some calls, okay?"

Dean nods, knowing that it's up to him to prevent any healing.

They split up, Elena heading out of the tent and Dean cautiously moving closer to the front where Le Grange is already onstage.

Outside, Sam begins looking for the protestor.

Inside, Le Grange raises his voice, but not to address his congregation.

"Layla, Layla Rourke. Come up here, child." The congregation bursts into applause.

Dean stops. He looks from Layla to Le Grange, a pit growing in his stomach.

Layla rises, embracing her mother.

Dean looks on at the touching scene. "Oh man." It'd be so much easier of it was someone else.

Layla picks the route that will take her past Dean, so he does the only thing he can. When she passes him, he leans in.

"Layla, listen to me. You can't go up there."

She turns to face him, looking bewildered at his urgent tone.

"Why not? We've waited for months."

"You can't let Roy heal you," Dean says through clenched teeth.

Out of his peripherals he can see Sue Ann approaching on one side and Layla's mother on the other, boxing them in.

"I don't understand, Roy healed you, didn't he? Why wouldn't I at least let him try?" Layla looks at him beseechingly.

"Because if you do, something bad is gonna happen," Dean replies urgently. "I can't explain it. I just need you to believe me."

"Layla," Sue-Ann says, reaching out her hand, smiling widely.

She turns to look at her with longing.

"Please," Dean says.

Layla looks back to her mother who nods encouragingly. She looks back to Dean, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry." She moves towards Sue-Ann.

"Layla," Dean calls after her in low, urgent tones. She doesn't turn back.

"Dear child!" Sue Ann guides her to the stage.

"I knew the Lord would finally pick you," Roy tells her fondly. "I knew it was just a matter of time."

Sue Ann looks at Dean before slipping away.

He sighs. "She's always right."

"Help!"

Sam turns, looking desperately for the source of the cry for help.

"Pray with me friends," Roy says with warmth.

Layla's face is full of hope as her mother watches on with tears of gratitude streaming down her face.

Dean watches uneasily from the background, not at all sure how to stop any of this. He doesn't know if he should follow Sue Ann or if he needs to stop what's happening onstage instead.

"I hope you're ready," says Roy.

Layla nods. "I am."

"Help me, help me please!" the man yells.

Sam, finally having spot him, barrels over, spinning around looking for the invisible threat.

"Where is he?" Sam asks

"It's right there!" he yells, pointing.

Sam grabs ahold of him. "All right, come on." They take off at a run.

Roy raises his hands, and the congregation rushes feverishly to follow his lead. Just as one of his hands comes down to rest on the back of Layla's head, a shout comes from the back of the tent.

"FIRE! THE TENT'S ON FIRE!" Dean bellows as loudly as he can. He's taking his gamble, stop the spectacle, and hope that's enough.

The people lower their hands, opening their eyes, looking around in confusion, some half-rising from their seats.

"FIRE! EVERYBODY GET OUT OF HERE!"

People start moving more frantically, heading for the exits.

"No! No, please!" Layla's mom calls out in anguish. "Please don't stop! Please! Reverend, please!"

She rushes towards the stage. "Please don't stop, please!" she begs.

"Friends, uh, if you'd all just leave the tent in an orderly fashion," is Roy's only response. One of his attendants helps him into his jacket.

Dean heaves a sigh of relief. Pulling out his phone, he calls Sam.

"I did it, I stopped Roy."

"David…I think it's okay," Sam says to his companion.

David ignores him at first, searching for the horrible creature who'd been chasing him. Finally beginning to relax, he turns back to Sam and nods. When he turns again, the reaper is there.

"No!" he begs.

"Dean, it didn't work, the reaper's still coming," Sam tells him.

Dean swears, regretting not keeping a better eye on Sue Ann. He'd thought that somehow the performance had to happen for it to work, but he can see now that it's just an act to convert people into believers.

"Roy must not be controlling this thing," Sam says.

Dean nods, and then adds for Sam's benefit. "Yeah, Sue Ann disappeared before it started, I shoulda followed her."

"Go find her now!"

Dean is surprised to find her within view, hidden behind the bulk of the piano. He can hear the mumble of archaic Latin distorted by witchcraft. He hangs up without a word, heading towards her.

Grabbing her elbow, he wrenches her around to face him. In her hand is the same strange cross, this time as a pendant on a necklace.

She moves quickly, tucking it under her blouse.

"Help! Help me!" she yells.

Dean backs away, shaking his head in annoyance. Right on que, a cop comes to grab him.

"Where the hell is Elena?" Dean mutters under his breath, grimacing as the officer drags him away.

Back in the parking lot, the reaper slowly begins to back away, leaving David on the ground to catch his breath.

"I got you," Sam says as he helps him up.

"Thank god." David's voice is hoarse.

Sue Ann emerges from the tent, trembling in her cardigan like a good victim. Behind her, two officers escort Dean out.

"I just don't understand," she says in her best preacher's wife tone.

She turns to face Dean. "After everything we've done for you. After Roy healed you. We're just very, very disappointed, Dean."

He stares back at her in disbelief.

She shakes her head, ignoring him. She addresses the officers. "You can let him go, I'm not gonna press charges." She sniffs imperiously. "The lord will deal with him as he sees fit." There is an implicit threat in her very being. With that, she walks away.

"We catch you around here again, son, we'll put the fear of god in you, understand?"

Dean barely manages to resist rolling his eyes at the officer.

"Yes, sir, fear of god, got it." He can't resist the smirk, so he can't be that surprised when they shove him forward out of their grip.

He looks for Elena first, but a certain blonde woman finds him first, making his insides squirm with shame. "Layla."

"Why would you do that, Dean?" she asks, distraught. "And it could've been my only chance."

"He's not a healer," is his blunt reply.

"He healed you," she retorts.

He shakes his head. "I know it doesn't seem fair, and I wish I could explain, but Roy is not the answer, I'm sorry."

For lack of any other reply, Layla says, "Goodbye, Dean." She walks past him, but surprises him by turning back. "I wish you luck, I really do."

"Same to you," he says, knowing it isn't enough. "You deserve it a lot more than me," he says after she's too far away to hear.

Someone warm and sweet-smelling leans against his shoulder. He knows it's her before he even turns his head.

Elena, her cheek leaned against his shoulder blade, looks up at him with an unbearably soft expression. He holds his breath, sure she heard that last exchange and was gearing up for another lecture on valuing his second shot at life. When she doesn't do anything but look at him, he exhales.

"You missed out on all the fun," he says lightly.

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'm so sorry."

He snorts at her dry tone.

"I had a very productive conversation with a French Quarter witch I know."

He gives her an expectant look.

"About the Sanderson witches, turns out, they suck."

He snorts. "Yeah, that about tracks."

She rises from her place resting against his shoulder, her cheek pressed to his now so she can speak directly into his ear.

"You deserve a lot more than luck, Dean."

Without giving him a chance to reply, she pulls back, catching his hand in hers to pull him away to find Sam.

He lets her lead, certain that he would follow her to hell even if she'd never ask.

Back in the motel room, Elena finishes explaining what her witch had told her.

"So they're Christian witches?" Sam asks, his tone somewhere between skepticism and horror. He's seated on the end of his bed as Dean paces in front of him.

"I mean, they're super extremists, but yeah, they believe their derive their power from Christ and should use it to weed out the heretics and sinners. The Sandersons have a long history of outing other witches in the name of God. Half the witch hunts in history started because of them."

Dean shudders. "That's deeply fucked up."

Elena nods from her place comfortably sprawled across their bed.

"So a French Quarter witch?" Sam questions after a moment, remembering Elena's source.

"Yeah, I've met a lot of witches over the years. Some of them are distantly related to the ones I grew up with so they're a bit more willing to pass along information."

Sam clears his throat. "And was that one of them?"

Elena shakes her head. "No, just one I've met who wasn't completely unwilling to give up useful information."

Dean stops to look at her, considering her careful tone.

"She's not – I mean – is she?"

Sam looks at him in amazement, considering how completely incoherent his question is, he can't imagine how Dean can still look at Elena so expectantly for an answer.

Elena on the other hand, smiles and shakes her head, understanding exactly what he's asking. "She's not," she says, sounding almost tender.

Dean gives her a dubious look.

She shakes her head again. "Trust me, she's willing to share her knowledge, but not for any of the sweet little reasons you're thinking of. The only thing she's really interested in is my blood—she'd sacrifice me on an altar of fire, given half the chance. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's hot, but she's evil."

Sam stares at her. Her dry tone makes it seem like a joke, but something about the darkness lurking behind her flawless façade makes him wonder.

"If she's evil, why would she help you then?" he asks.

She shrugs. "She probably thinks if she's nice to me I'll let her tap a vein."

Dean nods slowly. "Right."

He stares at her, so she stares back.

Sam clears his throat, "So Roy really believes," he says, changing the subject before the tension in the room hits a level that makes him feel completely unwanted.

Elena breaks eye contact to look at Sam.

"Sue Ann does too," she reminds him. "She just believes she's pre-ordained to murder people she deems immoral."

"I don't think Roy has any idea what his wife is doing," Dean says.

"I found this hidden in their library," Sam says, pulling out the tiny book he discovered behind the other books on the bookshelf. "It's ancient, written by a priest who went dark side."

He gestures at Elena with it. "There are all kinds of annotations by other people, probably the other Sanderson witches."

She nods. "Makes sense, a whole new religion just for them." She takes the book from him just as Dean sits down next to her on their bed.

"There's a binding spell in there for trapping a reaper," Sam says.

"Must be a hell of a spell," Dean comments.

Sam ignores his lame joke, but Elena lets out a tiny giggle.

Sam caves to her mirth, and snorts before he can stop himself. He clears his throat and says, "Yeah," as seriously as he can when Elena always laughs at Dean's bad jokes.

He forges on before Elena and Dean can drag him into some silly conversation as they're prone to do.

"You gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff – bones, human blood."

Elena snorts, but shakes her head when they look at her inquisitively. She hands the book off to Dean.

Sam shakes his head, still thinking about Sue Ann. "To cross a line like that, that preacher's wife…black magic, murder…evil."

Elena interrupts. "She was a witch before she was a preacher's wife," she points out coolly.

Sam looks at her in surprise.

She shrugs. "I'm not saying it's not evil, I'm just saying, preacher's wife is just a persona she performs, a Sanderson witch is what she is."

Dean nods his head, surprising Sam further. "Her husband was dying, she'd have done anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy."

"Cheating Death," Sam adds. He snorts. "Literally."

"Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?" Dean asks, flipping through the book.

"To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral," Elena says, reminding them of what her witch had told her.

"God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work," is Dean's contribution.

"We got to break that binding spell," Sam says grimly.

Considering the pages of the book, Dean voices a thought.

"You know, Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this." He points to one of the drawings. "When she dropped it the reaper back off."

"So you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the altar?" Sam asks.

"Both," Elena says decisively. "It's always both."

Dean nods. "And we'd better do it soon." He closes the book. "Roy's healing Layla tonight," he says, revealing the bit of information he'd overheard when Elena pulled him away in the parking lot.

"That's Layla's car," Sam observes as they pull up outside the tent. "She's already here."

"Yeah," Dean replies succinctly.

"Dean-" Sam starts, but he cuts him off quickly.

"You know if Roy would've picked Layla instead of me, she'd be healed right now."

Elena leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

"And someone else would still be dead," she says this far more gently than Sam thought possible.

Dean looks back at her.

"We picked you, suck it up."

He snorts. "God, you're a brat."

She smiles, unbothered by his half-assed attempt at ire. Withdrawing from him, she gets out of the car. They have no choice but to get out and follow her around to the far side of the tent. Peering inside, they can see a small group surrounding Roy and Layla onstage.

Scanning the crowd, Dean frowns. "Where's Sue Ann?"

"House?" Sam suggests.

Letting the tent flap fall back in place, they set off for the house.

Halfway across the parking lot, Dean catches hold of Elena's hand, halting their movement.

"Go find Sue Ann," Dean tells Sam. "We'll catch up."

Sam nods and keeps moving. Elena looks at Dean expectantly.

He points his chin over to the cops coming around the corner. Elena rolls her eyes, but takes down her hair.

"Can't you just leave me alone for five seconds," she says loudly, catching their attention.

"No, we were having a conversation," Dean answers just as loudly. "You can't just walk away in the middle of a conversation, that's rude."

"I can't believe you followed me here, this is a church! That's so disrespectful." She shakes her head at him.

Dean snorts. "It's a tent, that's hardly a place of worship."

Elena lets out a gasp of disbelief.

"Excuse me, ma'am, is he bothering you?" one of the officers asks Elena.

Before she can respond, Dean cuts in. "Oh hey, you again. You gonna put the fear of god into me?"

Dean reads the situation quickly, he takes off on foot, one of the cops following and one staying.

"You said he followed you here?"

She nods, sighing tragically. "He's my boyfriend, but like it's not serious or anything, we've only been together for a few months." She pouts. "My dad really hates him."

The officer nods. "You should listen to your father, he only wants what's best for you."

She cocks her head to the side, quicksilver grin lighting up the dim parking lot.

"My dad always says I should date a cop."

The cop hesitates for a moment, torn between his duty and the beguiling girl in front of him.

Finally, he smiles back at her, leaning in. "You should listen to your father," he repeats.

As usual, Elena's allure wins out. He's so busy flirting, he doesn't notice Sam sneaking behind them into the house.

While Dean plays keep away and Elena flirts, Sam searches for a way into the house. Eventually he spots light seeping through the crack of the storm cellar.

"Black magic in the basement, Sam, take a shot," he mutters to himself, shaking his head in grim amusement at Elena's Horror Movie Cliché game. He makes his way off the porch and down around back. Taking a deep breath, he heaves open the doors, surprisingly unlocked.

Down in the cool dark room, he passes lit black candles on a shelf. This time he resists the urge to verbally acknowledge Elena's game. Rounding the corner, the black altar comes into view. There it is, right in the open, in plain view, besides being in the basement, Sue Ann has made no effort to hide it. But why would she, it's not like her husband can see.

Through all of the gore and horror – blood and bone and animal corpses – it takes him a moment to realize that at the center of the altar is a picture of his brother with his face ex-ed out in red. He picks it up, the red liquid glistening sickeningly, obviously blood.

A voice sounds out from behind him.

"I gave your brother life, and I can take it away."

Sam looks back.

Sue Ann looks just the same. Neat brown tweed blazer over a high-necked blouse and paisley scarf – all pleasant neutral tones and impeccably coifed hair, still the perfect preacher's wife even when no one can see her. Even when she's practicing black magic.

Seizing the table, Sam upends her neat work, snuffing out candles, shattering glass in one reckless move.

It's all the time Sue Ann needs to slip through the door and lock him in.

Sam isn't quick enough, but she pauses to monologue – like any true fanatic.

"Sam, can't you see? The Lord chose me – like he chose all us Sanderson women, Sanderson witches to reward the just and punish the wicked – and your brother is wicked. He deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It's God's Will."

Sam grows uninterested in listening to her psycho-babble, so he begins to look for another way out.

"Goodbye Sam."

In the tent.

"Mrs. Rourke, pray with me now," Roy requests with fervor. "Pray with me friends," he adds, addressing the small crowd, hands folded in piety.

In the parking lot, Dean continues his game of keep away with the officer. Dodging between cars, he is plunged into darkness when the street lights go out.

When he turns around, the reaper is waiting for him. It walks towards him, putting a hand on his head, cradling it much like Roy did when he was healed.

Elena can't say exactly why she starts feeling anxious. All she knows is that there is a pit in her stomach, and she needs to find Dean, now.

"You know, I don't think people realize how hard it is to be cop…" The officer drones on, certain of his captive audience.

"Uh-huh," she says, eyes darting around. Everything is too still and quiet and it feels wrong. She bits her lip, puts her hand on his arm. He stops talking, eyes wide as she leans in.

She barely has to toss her hair for him to lean in too. Without hesitation, she grabs him by his tie and slams his head into the side of the house, knocking him unconscious before he has time to make a sound, let alone process this turn of events.

She takes off at a run. Heart pounding, she scans for Dean or the other cop. She sees no one.

On her way to the parking lot, she catches a glimpse of a figure huddling outside the tent. She changes directions. As she gets closer she can hear the familiar Latin spell work Sue Ann is muttering as she caresses her cross.

Picking up speed, she slams into Sue Ann like a freight train. Sue Ann goes down with a strangled gasp. Elena pops up, holding Sue Ann down with one hand at her throat. Before she has time to scream, Elena brings her fist down onto her face, knocking her out quickly.

Panic still thrums through her veins, so she scrambles up, taking off again without a thought. She needs to find Dean.

She finds him in the parking lot on his knees, the life being pulled from his body. It is not the sight of him that stops her in her tracks, however, but the sight of the reaper.

It's like the world has turned upside down, the impossible is happening – everyone knows only the dying can see the reaper, but Elena can see him – the suit, the pale skin and inhuman face. It is then that it suddenly occurs to her that she never took her eyes off of Dean when he was healed. She'd never looked for the reaper, but she felt him. The sensation of someone standing behind her; it never occurred to her to look back.

Frozen in place, she can only stare.

The reaper turns as if it feels her eyes on him. He pauses and the whole world seems to pause with him. He is seemingly taken aback at her stare. He removes his hand from Dean, letting him fall to the ground. The reaper's eyes widen in something that looks like recognition – impossible recognition for she's never seen a reaper in her life – and then he is gone.

"Elena."

Dean's voice is faint and hoarse, but it's enough to snap her out of her trance. Rushing forward, she pulls him up and against her, wrapping her arms around him.

She can feel the beating of his heart against her chest and suddenly it's like all of the adrenaline drains from her body. She sags against him, the both of them teetering dangerously. One gust of wind would knock them off their feet. Somehow he finds the strength to wrap his arms around her.

"Why the hell was it staring at you, Elena?" Dean asks.

She shakes her head, answering honestly. "I don't know."

It is later that Sam finds them, still holding onto each other in the parking lot, barely standing. He tells them how he found Sue Ann just as she was waking up and took her cross, shattering it on the concrete, how the reaper must have been there, because Sue Ann died right in front of him.

Elena explains that she had been the one to knock her out. She doesn't tell them about the overwhelming anxiety that she'd experienced like some kind of driving force, allowing her to perform the correct actions without knowing why. Dean, for his part, does not tell Sam about the reaper staring at Elena.

At some point, they make it into the Impala and Sam drives them back to the motel. He collapses into bed, falling asleep instantly.

Dean and Elena both find themselves awake in bed, aware of each other's uneven breathing, restless shifting, all the little signs of wakefulness.

"When you died, did you meet a reaper?" Dean asks finally, keeping his voice low.

Elena holds her breath. Letting it out slowly, she answers carefully. "If I died-"

He cuts her off. "No hypotheticals tonight, just answer the question."

She sighs. "Not that I remember, no."

He muses this over. "Maybe you forgot, when you came back. Maybe he recognized you."

She shrugs, her bare shoulder brushing his bicep.

"How would I know? I don't remember."

He sits up suddenly, propped up on his elbow. She can feel him looking at her, but she's surprised when he wraps his other arm around her waist pulling her over to his side of the bed. He leans down close, eyes narrowed in order to see more of her face in the dimness.

"You wouldn't lie to me about this, would you?"

She shook her head. "Dean, I don't know why he recognized me."

"That's not what I asked."

She doesn't say anything at first and he starts to pull away, but she grabs onto him, holding him close by the collar of his shirt.

"I would try not to lie, if I knew, but if it was something that could get you into trouble, get you hurt–" she cuts herself off, unable to continue. "I'd want to tell you," she offers finally.

He nods. "Okay," he says slowly.

She lets go of his shirt, so he removes his arm from his waist. She surprises him when she only moves back a few inches. She's still more on his side of the bed than hers, their arms pressed together.

Dean falls asleep listening to the sound of her breathing.

Sam's moving slowly, packing up his stuff, absentmindedly wondering when Elena will be back when he notices Dean is too still and too quiet.

"What is it?" Sam asks.

Dean looks at him, shakes his head. "Nothing."

Sam puts his hands on his hips.

"What is it?" he asks again with more force.

"We did the right thing here, didn't we?"

Sam's answer is quick, full of conviction. "Of course we did."

"Didn't feel like it," Dean admits bluntly.

A quiet knock interrupts their conversation.

Sam goes to open the door.

"Hey Layla, come on in."

"Hey," she says, smiling as she walks through the door.

"Uh, Elena's on the phone with her brother, she might not be back for a while. They can be pretty chatty."

Sam swallows a chuckle. It's typical Dean, always assuming Elena is the one they want – it doesn't matter who they are or why they're there, Dean thinks Elena is the answer to everything.

Layla shakes her head, slightly confused.

"Actually I was hoping to talk to you."

"How'd you know we were here?" Dean asks, diverting her attention from the topic at hand – him.

"Sam called," she points back at him. "He said you wanted to talk."

Dean narrows his eyes at Sam who returns his look with one of his own that is as close to Elena's sphynx-like calm a mere mortal like Sam can get. It doesn't quite work.

"I'm gonna find Elena, see if Jeremy's already told her about that performance art thing."

With that, he beats a hasty exit, leaving Dean and Layla alone.

"Performance art?" Layla asks.

"Jeremy's an art student," is Dean's succinct reply.

Layla nods in understanding, no further explanation needed.

"So, um, where are you going?" Layla asks.

"Don't know yet," Dean answers honestly. "Our work kinda takes us all over."

She plunges right in. "You know, I went back to see Roy."

"What happened?" Dean asks as neutrally as he can.

She shakes her head, moving to sit on the bed. "Nothing."

Dean sits next to her.

"He laid his hand on my forehead, but nothing happened."

"I'm sorry." He takes a breath. "I'm sorry it didn't work."

"And Sue Ann. She's dead you know – stroke."

Dean looks away. "Yeah, I heard."

After a pause. "Roy's a good man. He doesn't deserve what happened."

It's easier to say this Layla, a stranger, than to Sam or Elena who would pick him in a second, an instant.

"Must be rough."

She looks at him questioningly, so he elaborates.

"To believe in something so much and have it disappoint you like that."

Surprisingly, Layla smiles.

"You wanna hear something weird?"

"Hmm?" is Dean's reply.

She nods. "I'm okay. Really."

He can see she means it.

She starts haltingly. "I guess if you're gonna have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen – you have to have it when they don't."

He chuckles a little, somewhere between awe and disbelief.

"So, what now?" he asks.

She shrugs. "God works in mysterious ways."

She gets up, but pauses before she reaches the door.

"Does Elena know how you feel about her?"

He loses his breath.

She looks back at him and it's written all over his face.

"She knows that she's my best friend, and that I'll always look out for her. That's what's most important," Dean says all of this quickly, with conviction, not quite making eye contact.

She cocks her head to the side. "Is it?"

He holds his breath this time, unable to answer.

"I don't know why you haven't told her," she says quietly, kindly. "But you deserve to be free to express your feelings."

With that she turns back towards the exit.

"Hey," he says, calling her back.

She looks at him again.

"I'm not much of the praying type, but I'm gonna pray for you." He knows that sometimes you have to meet people where they stand.

She smiles, full of grace. "Well, there's a miracle right there."

It's earlier than usual when they stop for a motel. Inside the tiny office, Dean is a mildly surprised when Elena suddenly steps up next to him and asks the old man behind the desk if they have a pool.

He nods somewhat creakily. "Sure thing, hon."

She steps back, satisfied, and that's the end of that. Dean gets their customary room with two queen-sized beds and that's that.

In the room Elena heads for the bathroom right away, taking her bag straight into the room. Dean, flopping onto the bed, doesn't think much of it. She's probably dying to go on a run, she hasn't been since she got back.

"So," Sam starts.

Dean glances over at him. Sam is setting up his laptop on the table.

"Did you and Layla have a nice talk?"

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes. "That was some blatant meddling, Sammy."

"Yeah," Sam says without shame. "But did it help?"

Dean shrugs. "I guess." It's not exactly a lie.

The bathroom door opens.

"Well, what did you talk-" Sam cuts himself off, taking in Elena's form.

Dean glances over at Elena more out of habit than anything else. He freezes.

"I'm heading out to the pool," she says, stepping into the room like it's nothing out of the ordinary.

And maybe there isn't anything out of the ordinary about Elena's tiny red bikini. It's just not something Dean has ever seen her wear before. There's miles and miles of perfect tan skin, nowhere to look that doesn't make Dean feel lightheaded.

She extracts a pink sundress from her bag as if it's an afterthought. With that, she grabs a room key from the table and walks out, barely acknowledging the shock in awe she leaves in her wake.

Dean is still frozen, jaw slack.

Sam recovers much quicker. He starts to laugh, grinning widely. He gestures after her. "I think that's for you."

Dean stares at him dumbly.

Sam takes pity on him. "Go to the pool, Dean."

Elena is swimming laps when Dean finally finds the pool. He's not proud of how many times he almost ran into a wall on his way there.

It's early spring, not cold anymore, but not warm enough for most people to head for the pool, so it's just the two of them.

Seeing that she has no interest in stopping, he makes himself comfortable on the lounge next to her towel. He watches her swim, back and forth, resurfacing quickly and staying under long enough to make his stomach drop, always coming back up a moment before he feels the itch to act.

She's fast, faster than you'd expect, considering her particularly tense relationship with water. Then again, Elena is often foolhardy about facing her fears, so maybe she stays under longer because it's her way of exorcising her demons.

She is a constant blur of motion, a cloud of dark hair, too much smooth, tan skin, and that siren red bikini, all tinged the aquamarine blue of the chlorinated water.

He thinks about his bucket list, half jokes and half terrible longings and all somehow connected to her. He hadn't been thinking about this when he put it down – See Elena in a bikini. Strange as it seems, he hadn't actually pictured this in his head.

What he'd actually been thinking about; they never take vacations. It's not like being hunters gets them any benefits, no dental, no insurance, no paid sick leave, definitely no guaranteed two weeks off a year. He wants to give her that. The safety net of normalcy that was ripped out from under her as a teenager.

She's a doctor's daughter; she's a hunter's daughter.

It's always on his mind, the things she doesn't have. He wants to give her everything.

She stays in just long enough to make him wonder if Sam had been wrong about her wanting him to follow her.

When she pulls herself out, no water distorting her into an idea – a daydream, Dean is once again unsure of where to look without losing his ability to function.

He silently hands over her towel.

"Thanks," she says breathlessly, sitting next to him.

She smells like chlorine, clean and sharp. Water clings to her in droplets everywhere. He can see the white line of her manticore scar on her inner thigh. It's a daily ritual to stop himself from following it from her knee to higher up on her thigh; to dangerous heights and depths. Any desire is always quickly blotted out by the memory of the terror of almost losing her, of the smell of her burning flesh, her fading heartbeat underneath his fingertips.

He doesn't know what to say, there's a balloon his chest and it's too big to talk around.

Elena, on the other hand, seems content with his silence. She doesn't seem to need any kind of verbal acknowledgment of her gesture.

That only makes him want to say something more, but he struggles with what to say.

"You know I was joking right?" he says finally.

She cocks her head to the side.

"I'm not," she answers simply. She smiles at him, catching her lower lip with her teeth. She looks content with just looking at him.

He looks back at her, eyes wide. "I mean, you really didn't have to…"

"I wanted to."

He clears his throat. "So, what exactly are you saying?"

She studies him.

"I guess I just wanted you to know that if you want something from me, all you have to do is ask."

tbc.

AN: Chapter title from Angels On the Moon by Thriving Ivory. A song I have associated in one way or another with all three of the main characters of this story, actually. I found the band because of a fanfiction, it was titled after their absolutely stunning song Flowers For A Ghost, however, as much as I love that song, legitimately, I remember nothing about the fanfic titled after it, not even the fandom.

We are so close to the next flashback chapter that I'm kind of shook, honestly. There's just the Route 666 episode and then it is time for you all to find out what exactly happened to make Elena leave Mystic Falls and who exactly she is running from. It'll still be a few more chapters before the boys find out though, at least 5.

References:

I took out the Snuggle bear comment because they haven't made a new commercial with the little creep since 2016, thank god.

Elena suggests going to Canada because in Ontario the legal drinking age is 19!

Sue Ann really gave Elena iced tea, smh. Don't! Serve! Iced! Tea! To! Southerners! SWEET TEA OR DEATH. But for real, no hate to Midwesterners, Elena is just deeply Southern, no matter how badly TVD the show wants to ignore that.

Why did I name her Sue Ann Sanderson, you ask? The witches in Hocus Pocus are the Sanderson sisters:)

Further, why did I decide to make her a witch? A lot of the time I have to make split second decisions about lore, am I going with spn's or tvd's or some combination of the two? I chose tvd's for the witches because I find it much more fleshed out and fascinating, but that's just my opinion.

Dean would follow Elena to hell: …Okay, we all know how Supernatural goes, so sometimes I have fun alluding to future events in the series. Plus like, going back to the first season, it's both hilarious and heartbreaking to realize how little they really know about what they're getting into.

Lol if anyone can guess who the French Quarter witch is that gave Elena her info about the Sanderson witches I will be extremely surprised. It's definitely not someone she's ever interacted with in canon.

Sam's comment about what it takes to make a black altar is funny to Elena because what's a little bone and human blood compared to being a literal human sacrifice? Sue Ann is doing some elementary shit compared to what Klaus did to Elena.

BLACK MAGIC IN THE BASEMENT, REALLY, SUE ANN, REALLY?! Will they ever stop playing the Horror Movie Cliche drinking game? When SPN stops being chock full of horror movie cliches, that's when.

Why exactly can Elena see reapers? …I am not at liberty to say exactly, but I will remind you that most lore says that doppelgangers are harbingers of misfortune, and more specifically, death.

Did I just want to put Elena in a bikini or was there a point? Well, Dean did almost die, and Elena was reacting to that. By TVD's own canon, Elena wasn't even in love with Damon (yet) when he nearly died at the end of season 2, but she still felt the need to give him some little piece of herself with her admission to liking him as he is and a kiss - albeit a very chaste one. So yeah, of course she's gonna do something a bit more dramatic with Dean who she has very clear feelings for.

With that in mind, I do want to remind everyone that this story is 26 chapters long. This is chapter 13, this would not be the slowest slow burn to ever slow burn if Dean and Elena got together in the next couple of chapters. So, nobody get too excited. Who's ready to see Cassie again?

I have no idea when I will finish the next chapter, so I don't wanna make any promises I can't keep. See you next chapter and hopefully that is soon! Questions? Thought? Comments? Please leave a review!

And everyone, please stay safe and healthy out there, I'm thinking of you all.

xoxo

-Pixie