Hit List

Chapter II: Bloody Hands

Chapter II: Bloody Hands

The bunker had long since lost the faint cinnamon smell that Ellie brought to it. It lingered subtly on the pillows and sheets of the unmade bed in her room, but even those were beginning to lose their scent. Dean had gone into her room a grand total of one time since she had left. He had laid down on the side of the bed where he had usually slept beside her, but the memory of her warm, sleeping body, curled up against him quickly provoked emotions that he was not prepared to deal with. For a moment, he'd try to let them come. She would've told him that he needed to process them eventually. But he quickly gave up and left in a hurry, closing the door on his way out, and attempting to leave his emotions behind it. It was an unsuccessful attempt.

They slowly leaked out of the cracks in the doorframe, drawn to the memories that he couldn't help but replay in his head. They followed him everywhere, and every waking moment was spent trying to escape them.

Today, the company of others made it a little easier to escape.

The bunker finally had voices in it, and sounds apart from the tapping of keyboards. There was finally fresh coffee in the kitchen rather than the same stale brew that had sat for days, creating lines in the glass pot. There was finally a reason to open the front door apart from walking outside alone, which Dean had done several times in the last couple weeks. He had walked the path that he had taken Ellie the night that they watched the sunrise together. He had taken it over and over and over again, every single night that he found himself unable to sleep. Watching the sunrise made him feel close to her, somehow. He hoped that wherever she was, she might be watching the same one.

A few days ago, the Winchesters had called upon every hunter they had in their phonebook, asking them to come together to discuss next steps in dealing with Ellie, or "El" as she now called herself. Today, the few loyal ones gathered around a table in the main hall of their bunker, all sitting in the squeaky wooden chairs that weren't used to many guests. Karter, Jody, Donna, and Alex all sat along one side of the long table, and Sam and Garth and Claire sat across from them, waiting for Dean.

Sam had alternated between sitting down and exchanging small talk, and going back and forth from the kitchen. He had a news channel on, broadcasting on a small laptop screen at the end of the table. It filled any awkward silence that there might have been. He grabbed beers and coffee and whiskey and whatever else people were craving. Each person offered to grab it themselves, but Sam insisted. It kept him distracted from the conversation that revolved around Ellie, which he could only stand to have when Dean was around. With Dean there, Sam was focused enough on him that he could talk about Ellie without issue. Sam worried about him, and had noticed that in recent weeks he had lost his appetite, which was not a good sign for Dean.

Finally, Dean came through the bunker door with a grocery bag full of chips and guacamole and beer, and apologized for running behind. He quickly trotted down the stairs and placed the bag on the table, but no one made any move to grab the things inside. Instead, they all couldn't help but stare at the person standing in front of them, who truthfully looked nothing like the Dean they were all familiar with. Lack of shaving had turned his stubble into a short beard, and lack of sleep had placed bags under his green eyes, which no longer contained the luster they typically held, but were almost clouded with anxiety.

Sam honestly wasn't a whole lot better, but with him it wasn't as obvious. He had been known to stay up overnight on occasion, conducting research for whatever hunt they were on. Thus, the bags under his eyes weren't particularly surprising. But in all actuality, he had been just as sleepless as Dean, though he was better at hiding it. So much so that Dean had not yet realized that Sam had lost sleep at all.