Sillage

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Sillage

            noun

            The feeling that hangs in the air; the trail left in water; the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the degree to which a perfume's fragrance lingers in the air when worn.

[Editor's Note]: I have done enough foreshadowing and I grow tired of speaking of their pain. The angels may be able to force me to write this file, but they cannot force me to stand idly by while they use this file to belittle Dean and Elena's relationship. This section has pushed me too far. That file I mentioned before—the one about the beginning of the universe—is still a mystery to me. The angels are keeping something from me, and I intend to uncover their secrets. An aside: I contemplated titling this section more ominously, but I assume you will understand what this chapter contains soon enough.

January 31st, 2021

            "Hey! Dean, slow down," Sam shouts, chasing after his brother. Dean is a good six steps ahead of him, the papers curled in his fist. Dean rounds the last corner, the door to his room looming up on his right. Sam wasn't going to make it. "Just hold on a second. There's an explanation."

            It had been an accident. Sam had only reached for a simple book from the top shelf, not knowing what Elena had hidden inside. The contents spilled from the binding, papers saying Apartment For Rent and Up and Coming Neighborhoods sprawling out on the floor for the brothers to see. For a moment they had only stared, each absorbing the pages Elena had left behind. Dean snatched them up before Sam had fully processed what they were.

            Dean reaches the door, slamming it just as Sam arrives. Sam stops, pressing his hands against the door. He'd known Elena was having her doubts, considering leaving, but he hadn't known she'd taken it this far. She'd brought up the subject a couple weeks ago, asking for his advice. She didn't want to leave Dean, Elena had told him, but she wanted to be aware of her options if things went sideways. Sam promised he wouldn't tell Dean and assured her he would never abandon her even if things ended with his brother. Elena had laughed, made light of the situation, but maybe Sam should have taken her more seriously.

            Sam shrinks away from the door when the screaming starts.

            "What is this?" Dean thrusts the pages into the air, his face contorted in pain and anger. Elena is frozen in place, staring at Dean in shock. "What is this, Elena?"

            "Options," Elena says, lifting her chin. She couldn't see a reason to deny it.

            "So what? You were just going to buy yourself a fancy apartment and leave?" Dean throws the papers on the bed and Elena follows their path with her eyes. She should feel ashamed, or at least feel like she betrayed him in some way, but she only feels numb. "Were you planning on breaking up with me before or after you moved out?"

            "I was never going to go through with it," Elena tells him, though even she could hear the doubt in her voice. "I printed them out when we were fighting, Dean. But you haven't spoken to me in months—"

            "We talk all the time!"

            "We talk about cases," Elena clarifies, crossing her arms. Dean's face closes off when she does so, as if a barrier has come between them. "We say good morning and goodnight, ask what we want for dinner, and that's it. That's not a relationship. I thought..."

            "You thought I wanted to break up with you?" The content of Dean's question is sad, but his tone is forceful.

            "I didn't know what to think! You always blow me off when—"

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