"I don't need your help."
"Could've fooled me. You've been hiding in here a while."
The door's to the conference room salted, we converge in the lobby. "Okay. New theory", Dean drops the salt canister with a bang "The legends about Letisha are ass-backward obviously."
"Yeah. Let's say those three other orphans were playing cowboys and Indians", Sam furthers the newly formed theory "Let's say they scalped Letisha's son and killed him."
"Mom caught the three of them in the act", I interject "Flips out. Slices and dices them herself."
Chuckling humourlessly, Sam dreadfully counts off "So we don't have one but three bloodthirsty brats in here and Letisha was the only one keeping them under control."
"Until we took her out."
"Thanks for that El."
Defensively, I narrow my glare on Dean "You burned her bones!"
"Because you dug 'em up!"
"Jesus", Sam hesitantly glances between us "You guys good?"
Dean and I seem to have the same idea. Ignore the question. Shifting his stance, Dean suggests "Well we gotta get back to that cemetery and burn their bones."
"Wow that is a groundbreaking idea", I cynically laugh "That is if we could actually get outside." The look Dean sends me suggests he wants to throw me through that exact door. Brushing it off, I sigh "We need another plan-"
"Or another Letisha", Sam's attention drifts towards the conference doors. "Don't move."
Where am I going to go? Mexico? Dean and I wait in patient silence before Sam comes running discreetly out. Noting the dress in his hands I raise my brow, "Sam I think that's a size too small for you."
Shrugging, my heart skips a beat when he extends it to me "But not for you."
Glaring at Sam long and hard, I question "What did I ever do to you?"
"Well I asked the actress and she said no."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?!"
"Eleanor just put on the damn dress!" Dean all but snatches it and throw's the heavy black material at me.
The glare I send back could have made Dean burst into flames. My fingers clenching aggressively around the material. "Fine", I growl shoving my shoulder into Dean as I storm off to change in the kitchen.
My clothes are thrown harshly against the metal benchtop I pull up the dress and struggle with the zip. Not because I couldn't reach but because I literally cannot stop the shake of my hands. Demons, Djin, Pagan Gods- throw them at me. Creepy children are just a no-go. Something so innocent shouldn't be murderous and creepy. They're right up there with dolls. Something so beautiful should not be twisted up into something monstrous. It's just wrong.
Hearing his footsteps I ignore Dean as he weaves around the cooktops, "I don't need your help."
Rolling his eyes, Dean leans against the counters across from me "Could've fooled me. You've been hiding in here a while."
"Well I'm putting on the damn dress", I snap frustratedly, covering up the shake of my voice "Isn't that what you wanted?" Whatever Dean wanted to say he swallows it down like a bitter pill. Instead, he folds his arms defensively as I continue to struggle with my grasp on the zipper. "This plan is so dumb", I grumble shaking my head "So bloody dumb. Dumber than an unscented hand soap kind of dumb."
It's quiet for a long moment, "You're struggling with that."
"I'm not struggling."
"You look like your struggling."
"Then stop looking!"
Deeply, Dean exhales a frustrated breath. Pushing off the counter, Dean motions for me to turn as he round the cabinet "People in here don't have all night so turn the hell around before I make you." I have half a mind to flip him off I would have if his point wasn't a good one. Scooping my hair over one shoulder, I grit my teeth as Dean addresses the zipper on my back. Maintaining my composure when his hands accidentally graze my skin dragging it up. With the zipper gliding up my neck, I suddenly feel as if I cannot breathe. The fright strangles me as I loosely tug at the high lace collar. Releasing a shaky breath I step away from Dean's comforting proximity and begin fiddling with my hair. Managing it into the similar bun the actress had. I say similar because I only have my reflection in a microwave to work with. "I've got your back El", Dean gently voices, my chest continuing to rise and fall unsteadily as I panic "I promise."
"I know." Releasing a constricted breath, I try to calm my erratically pounding heart "Let's go ice some raging children."
Returning to the lobby I furrow my brows at the sight of the men who had accompanied Dean and Sam to the cemetery. Both look about as frightened as I, however, they still manage to stand tall. If anything, that pushes me to quell the terror gripping my bones. "What's the gang doing here?" Dean questions Sam as we approach.
Beating Sam to it, Faux Dean voices "We're here to help."
"Awesome", I'm quick to interject "Either of you wanna wear the dress?"
"So", Dean interjects, cutting off any chance of them actually agreeing "With two extra bodies what's our plan?"
"I'll take them and work on the doors", Sam nods to the lobby's back door "You and El go upstairs. See if you can bring them out and distract them long enough that we can slip out."
Watching the trio for a long moment I feel myself weighing up the possibility of a better plan. My life literally hangs on these guys salting and torching their bones. "Well", I try to excuse the shake in my voice "I am a rather distracting personality."
Chuckling, Dean nudges me towards the stairs with the iron fire poker "Look at you scared shitless and still cracking jokes."
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Stood in the same room as the scared little boy had been I wonder if they can hear how wildly my heart is beating. Releasing a shaky breath I try to keep myself controlled and composed. If this doesn't work... we're all dead. My unsteady hands gripping the thick skirt is the only thing keeping my fright in check. From the wall behind me, Dean murmurs encouragingly "You're alright sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."
Perhaps it was the nudge my courage needed. Swallowing my fear, my voice comes out shallow when I summon "Boys?" Knowing that won't call to shit, I clear my throat and try again "Boys. Come here this instant." They don't appear. If anything, that only heightens the terror clutching my bones. Trying again, I command "You come when I call you. Do you understand me?"
"Miss Gore?"
I almost jump out of my skin when they apparated before me. Three boys were covered in flaked snowed clothes. Dark circles enunciating their hollowed-out eyes. Skin white as paper with looks cold as frost. Their intent stares have me entranced. My hands clutched harder against the material to prevent me from running out of this very room. Preventing the fear from taking over my features, I scold "You boys have been very naughty. Now you open the doors." When they don't move, I press sternly "You open these doors right now!" Their ghosts flicker and part of me relaxes. This is going to work. This is actually going to work out perfectly. "You're very naughty you hear me? Very naughty. Naughty, naughty, naughty-"
Suddenly, the pocket of my skirt vibrates and hip-hop music echo's through the silent room. Watching their stares avert to my pocket, the source of the sound, I suddenly become very aware of how screwed I am. They know. Those damn kids know. The second the ringtone ceases in my pocket, their murderous eyes snake up to mine. That alone could've caused my heart to fail on me. Again, the terror seeps in and I feel myself wanting to cry from pure panic. Slowly, they raise their small knives- no doubt the knives they used to scalp the boy. And when they raise them higher with a menacing grin I take a very hesitant step backward. With a gentle hand on my arm, Dean carefully puts himself between me and those terrifying grinning children. Fingers itching for my iron dagger strapped in my boot, I ask "They got out right?"
"I heard the scrappy one get out", Dean assures me "So we're just going to have to buy ti-"Dean doesn't even have a remote chance to finish that sentence. Suddenly, we're thrown to completely opposite directions of the room. Colliding into the bookcase I slam into the floor with books to follow. Novel after novel jarring my back. Clumsily shifting in the heavy dress I get a look at Dean swinging the iron poker through two of the children. The smallest third child flashed before me with a wicked grin. Reaching for my boot I yank my dagger out and slash the iron through the child. The room is empty for the moment.
"El!" Dean calls through the empty room "You good?"
I don't get to respond because suddenly I'm thrown again. Screaming when I suddenly feel a small hand in my hair. Two small sunken eyes watched me with an unhinged smile. Like this is their game. Knife coming down towards my head I grab hold of the boy's cols wrist. Grinding my teeth I pant frantically as it comes closer to my head. The boy's amusement grows with every second that passes. Chest heaving with panic I try to keep my head- literally- as the boy goes for it. Murderously amusement and it absolutely terrifies me to my bones.
A panicked scream escapes my lips once more before the child's grip disappears. Fear replacing his grin for only a second before he completely vanishes in my grasp. Bolting up with a heaved panic my eyes frantically search the room. No frighteningly morbid children in sight. "They did it", Dean chuckles, stumbling up from the floor "Sons of a bitches actually did it." Without the care, I use my iron knife and quickly slash at the dress that's confining my fear. Allowing it no escape the feeling if being strangled from inside. Eager to escape the choked constricted outfit. Noticing the dress coming off, Dean throws out his hands up astounded "Jesus El- we're in public-"
"I don't care", I snap but my voice is small, still trembling as the dread still dances with my fright "I want it off. I want my clothes back. I want to get the hell out of this damn hotel!" Yanking out the bun I slam the torn-up dress into Dean's hands completely bypassing him and his dropped jaw. Boots, panties, bralette, and dagger in hand I storm down the corridor ignoring Dean's pleading to slow down. Marching downstairs I ignore the gasps and peering eyes from those exiting the conference room. I literally could not care less. I'm on a mission to leave and not a fucking thing is stopping me from doing just that. Sam running inside the lobby I catch his jaw-dropping at the sight of me. I don't blame him. I probably appeared utterly deranged. Already seeing him preparing his words, I immediately hold up my hand "Not a word Samuel. Not a damn word."
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Sat on the bonnet of the impala, I gaze up at the sun. Wrapped in Dean's jacket I feel the warmth and sunlight erasing the frightening tension in my muscles. Hearing Dean lowly whistle, a small smile creeps onto my lips "I don't think I've ever fantasized about you in your black panties and boots before."
"Enjoyed the show?"
"Everyone did- except Sam." Laughter escapes my lips when Dean chuckles "That boy isn't gonna to burn that image out of his head anytime soon." Laughter falling sparsely I sit up off the bonnet, my boots dangling over the edge. Breathing in Dean's comforting smell one last time, I shrug off his jacket. Passing the duster back to him. Accepting it back, Dean scratches absently at the worn leather "I thought you would've been halfway back to Bobby's by now."
"Considered it", I agree to stare at Sam speaking with Becky and Chuck, something has caught his attention "But I don't want to leave things the way they were." Picking my fingers anxiously, I confide "Somethings been lost to time by my ancestors and I'm trying to understand. To figure it out. Ever since speaking with Raphael... it's like he's shined a light on something I didn't even know I was missing."
Dean's quiet for a long moment, "Any suspicions?"
"One", I confess truthfully to him, my gaze flickering over to meet Dean's "One slither of a suspicion."
Silently, Dean nods. Not aggressive. Just... understanding. A small piece of the puzzle. Enough to keep the trust but not enough for him to get a picture. The truth is I have no idea what way Dean would react if I said what I thought. So as much as I despise it, I remain quiet. Until I have all the facts and can make a conscious theory this is what will remain. It must be enough because Dean's hand slides over to grasp mine. Lacing our fingers together, Dean holds tight "I love you."
His lips curling into a soft smile, my hand tightens lovingly back "I love you." Gravel crunching, my soft expression disappears at the look on Sam's face "Did Becky finally break your heart?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam strides past me for the front seat "Good to see you've found your clothes." Shrugging I slide from the bonnet. "El when you were reading up on the Colt you didn't happen to come across the part where Bela palmed off the gun?"
"To Lilith?" I rest my hands on my hips unimpressively "Yeah. Believe it or not, I was there."
"Not what I mean", Sam shakes his head "Supernatural book Time is on My Side. You read it?"
I pause for a long moment, "Why would I? It's a literal book on our lives. It's told from our point of view-"
"Besides the excerpt from Bela's which you've obviously missed", Sam cuts me off, yanking open the passenger door "Apparently she drove right off to hand it over to Lilith's right-hand Demon. He has the Colt. Must've been planning a hostile takeover. Demon named Crowley-" At the name, my eyes slowly close and a heavy unwarranted sigh escapes my body. "Why do I get the sense you're familiar?"
"You could say we're on a first-name basis", I groan kicking up the dirt under my boot. Why does it have to be the most irritating of Demons? Seriously? Couldn't Bela have just palmed it off to some low-level whack job we could snatch it from within five minutes? "Crowley is the Demon I tried dealing with for Sam's life", I motion to Sam before twirling my finger around to Dean "Before you died and I tried bargaining for yours." Both of their jaws quietly dropped, shocked, I shrug it off "Apparently Heaven won't seek me and Hell won't accept me which I've decided to take as a compliment."
Nodding, Dean fiddles with the keys in his hand "Alright. Then we take Crowley down and force him to hand it over."
Scoffing, I all but laugh "Last time I spoke with Crowley he was King of the Crossroads and now it's emerging he was the right hand to Lilith. I'd say that sticks him firmly at the top of the hierarchy of Hell." His brothers share a look I immediately understand. I'm going to need to return Bobby's truck.
We're going to go hunt ourselves a Crowley.