Imbroglio |imˈbrōlyō|
noun
An extremely confusing, intricate, and complicated situation; a violently confused or bitterly complicated altercation.
[Editor's Note]: As I have foreshadowed, Dean and Elena's relationship underwent a drastic change after her hunting accident and the incident with the Men of Letters. Their relationship became much darker and they fought a great deal of the time. It was very disheartening to watch the two people who loved each other more than anything begin to question their reasons for being together. Sam and I discussed their downfall in much depth, but those conversations have been left out of this file because neither Dean nor Elena were present.
January 2nd, 2019
"Dean, stop!"
Elena races down the bunker stairs after her boyfriend, hoping to catch up before he reaches the bottom.
"Dean! We need to talk about this!"
Though several steps behind, she can see the blood imbedded deep in his hair, staining the back of his neck and running under the collar of his jacket. His machete is dripping with the red liquid, splattering it across the steps with every jerky movement. Elena nearly slips on a particularly large spill when Dean reaches the bottom landing, bolting for the nearest door and disappearing into the hallway. Elena sighs, taking the final steps slowly.
"Is everything okay?" Sam rises from his chair in the library, meeting Elena at the bottom of the stairs.
"No," Elena mutters, staring in the direction Dean disappeared. Tonight was too much; Dean had gone too far.
"He probably just needs time to cool off. Come on, I made you guys dinner," Sam says lightly, taking several steps towards the kitchen before he realizes Elena isn't following him. "Elena?"
"You didn't see him," she whispers, a chill running up her spine. The night air outside had been icy cold, but the bunker was warm and comforting—not that it helped Elena's frozen insides. "He was like this totally different person."
"He can..." Sam trails off, not knowing what to say to ease Elena's clear pain. Shaking her head, Elena shoves her way past him and into the library. She takes a seat across from Sam's book, clearly expecting him to follow her.
"He didn't use to be like this," Elena says, looking up at Sam with big, naïve eyes as he sits. "I've never seen... He's never done that before."
"Do I want to know what he did?" Sam's question is hesitant, causing Elena to sigh.
"No, probably not," she admits, looking down at her hands. Some of the blood from the werewolf is still on her hands and she picks at it absentmindedly. "There was so much blood, Sam. So many—many pieces."
[Editor's Note]: Elena later described to me what Dean did on this hunt, and I have to say it was not pretty. I am going to refrain from further describing the scene due to the immense and dark violence it involved.
"I'm so sorry," Sam whispers, images from the past dancing behind his eyelids. These violent acts of rage were Dean's tell, they always had been.
"Is it... is it me? Did I do something wrong?" Elena's voice is thin, frail, and even somewhat frightened. Sam's eyes jump to hers.
"No! No, of course not. You didn't do anything wrong," he assures her.
"Then what? What is it? Why is he acting like this?"
Sam's mouth hangs open, unable to articulate the words. He knew his brother inside and out, knew his strengths, his faults, his warning signs. Sam had seen it coming from a mile away, even when Dean and Elena had not. Dean's protectiveness, his suffocating and guilty protectiveness, was second nature. It was only a matter of time before it kicked in. Sam had thought Elena's kidnapping would do the trick, tear them apart before they were even together, but he had been wrong.
This time he wasn't.
"He loves you," Sam finally says, the fear and emotion in Elena's eyes killing him. "Maybe he loves you... too much."
Elena's shoulders deflate as she says, "So it is me."
"It's the fear of losing you," Sam corrects, reaching across the table and covering her small hands with his. She chews on her bottom lip as she stares at him. "He was reminded that he could and that he wouldn't be able to stop it from happening. He's scared, Elena."
"You know, before all this happened," Elena starts, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I was planning on asking him to marry me. I thought Christmas would be a good time."
"Oh, Elena—"
"I know, I know," Elena says, waving off Sam's pity. "He's touchy about the subject. For a while I was just going to bring it up casually, see if he wanted to ask himself. But then I thought maybe it would be easier... I guess it doesn't matter now."
Sam swallows hard, not knowing what to say to soothe Elena's mind. He knows what Dean's answer will be—well, would have been—but he doesn't have the heart to tell her. She just looked so fragile, so small, in that chair across from him. So all Sam can do is wait; wait for the moment to pass, for her hopes to be crushed on their own, for Dean to ruin her.
"How long will it be like this?"
Sam jerks his hand back, suddenly feeling sorry for the poor girl sitting across from him. He rises from the table, ready to make his escape to the kitchen for dinner.
"Until you're immortal."
March 20th, 2019
"The service entrance is here," Dean says, pointing to a particular spot on the map spread before him. The hunters around him lean forward, nodding to themselves as if they too had spent a copious amount of time at the Men of Letters' base. "The back gate leads straight to it. We could get one van in and out, at best two. I think this is our best bet."
"How guarded is this area?" The man speaking is large and broad shouldered, decked out in the usual hunter apparel of plaid. Having been introduced to so many hunters in the past hour, Elena has already forgotten his name.
The group surrounds the table in the bunker's library, all heads together as they plot their attack. Dean stands in the center, hands on the table, and Elena sits beside him. She doesn't know many of the hunters here—only the Winchesters and Jody, to be exact—and she can't help but feel like an outsider despite being crammed in the center of the group.
"Not as severely as the other two entrances," Sam says, nodding as if to agree with his brother's plan. "This area is mainly for loading."
"Seems a bit cliché, if you ask me," the hunter beside Elena says.
"Nobody did," Elena mutters under her breath, but clearly not quiet enough. The hunter turns, eyes narrowing in on her small frame. Elena keeps her chin high, but is reminded by how small she is compared to the men surrounding her, especially seated.
Dean's hand curls protectively around Elena's shoulder, but he doesn't look up from the map.
"As I was saying," he says, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to the task at hand. "They usually only have four or five guards at this post. And we can tear through the guard gate without a hitch. The only matter would be actually getting inside the base."
"This is where I come in?" Jody's question draws Elena's attention, her eyes flitting to the older woman. Dean nods before reaching forward to point at another place on the map.
"Jody, you and I are going to sneak in through this door while the rest draw fire. It's not much, but it'll give us a head start on destroying the place. Hank, once the guards are taken out, you lead Wes and Rodney in through this entrance," Dean says, pointing again. He rattles off the rest of the orders, the hunters nodding when given their positions. Elena sits patiently, waiting for her and Sam's names to be called. "Sam, you head in last. Make sure we have a clear exit. It's gonna go up in flames fast."
Sam nods, and Elena frowns.
"What about me?" She'd hoped her question would sound commanding, strong, but instead it comes out like a whiny child whose toys have been taken away.
"You can drive the get-away-car," Dean says dismissively, finally unhinging his hand from her shoulder. It puts distance between them, increasing the tension in Elena's body.
"Did you just tell me to stay in the car?" Elena swallows thickly, trying to prevent her voice from becoming shrill. "While the rest of you go into battle?"
"This isn't war, Elena."
"Yes, it—"
"No, it's not," Dean shouts, his outburst bringing an uncomfortable stirring to the group of hunters. Elena clamps her mouth shut, staring with blurry vision at the map before her. Dean had done a good job marking the entrances and escape routes. "This is a mission. Something hunters do every day."
"Every day we let a massive organization pick us off one by one?" Elena asks sarcastically. She flicks her eyes to Dean in time to catch his gaze darken, his shoulders straighten.
"Get out," he whispers, fists clenched.
"What?" Elena stares at her boyfriend, bewildered. She couldn't have heard correctly—he would never dismiss her.
"Get out," Dean repeats, his voice raising in volume and aggression.
Numb, Elena puts her hands on the armrests and slowly pushes herself out of the chair. She keeps her eyes on Dean as she turns even after he returns his attention to the map. The hunters part, forming a small path for her to squeeze through.
She's at the door, a step into the hallway, when Dean says, "Sorry about her. She's still too young for this."
April 15th, 2020
[Editor's Note]: While this scene does not explicitly detail the conflict between Dean and Elena, I feel it is important to share due to its future repercussions. Though really, this is still just an after-effect of previous events.
"To us!"
Dean rises to his feet, lifting his beer into the air. Sam, Elena, and Cas follow suit, smiling up at Dean from their seats. The bar is loud around them, almost completely drowning out their response.
"To a hunt well done," Sam says.
"To us," Elena agrees.
They drink, tipping their glasses back to drain the amber liquid. They'd been at this case for nearly a week and were relieved to finally have it behind them.
It was a Midwest kind of night—hot, sticky, buzzing—and the inside of the bar wasn't much better. This particular bar is small, packing the heat and the noise into the compact space to the point of near suffocation.
"I'm not going to miss this town in the slightest," Dean says, plopping back down in his seat. He was in good spirits, probably because they were on their third round, but Elena wasn't complaining. The past year had been tough, to say the least, and she was just happy to see him smile.
"I'll get the next round," Elena offers, rising from her chair. They all nod in thanks as she squeezes her way through the tables and chairs to reach the bar. She grips the edge once she arrives, hoping not to be pushed aside by the bulking men sitting there. "Excuse me!"
"Another round?" The bartender smiles, already reaching for a pitcher.
"Yeah, that would be great. Thank you," Elena says, pushing her hair behind her ear. It's sticks to the back of her neck, causing chills to run down her spine despite the crippling heat.
"Hey, I know you," a voice says, drawing Elena's attention. She turns, finding the man beside her staring intently at her features. His hair is buzzed, several tattoos peaking out from under his shirtsleeves. Elena swallows thickly, shaking her head.
"I don't think so," Elena mutters.
"Yeah, yeah, you're that Gilbert girl," he says, his dark eyes widening in recognition. Elena's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding erratically. She sees now the signs of a hunter—concealed gun, blunt gaze, plaid—and sends a nervous glance in Dean's direction. Dean sits up straight, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend and the hunter with concern and confusion. "I've heard a lot about you, but I must say, you are much prettier in person."
"Umm, thanks? I'm sorry, I really should—"
"Is it true what they say?" The hunter reaches out, grabbing hold of her wrist. Elena freezes, staring as his fingers curl tightly around her thin wrist. "Did you really use to be a vampire?"
"How do you—"
"I didn't believe it, but after the Men of Letters—"
"What's going on here?" Dean is at Elena's side, his arm sliding around her waist and jerking her away from the strange hunter. The man releases Elena instantly, staring at Dean with a mixture of awe and hatred that Elena couldn't understand.
"Dean Winchester," he says.
"The one and only," Dean says bitterly, his arm tightening around Elena protectively. The hunter works his jaw, a motion that makes Elena think he's furious.
"I was just talking to your vampire friend about the Men of Letters," he says carefully, causing Elena to suck in a breath. Dean maintains his cool, the only sign of emotion being his hand as it continues to tighten on Elena's hip.
"She's not a vampire," Dean slowly says.
"Anymore." The hunter sits up, maintaining eye contact with Dean. "Now she's just a doppelganger. Isn't that right?" Now he turns to Elena, eyebrows arched as if he were waiting for a reply. Elena's mouth falls open in shock.
"How do you know that," she pushes, moving to take a step forward. Dean stops her, roughly jerking her back. "How?"
"Hunters talk," the man replies, a flicker of a smile crossing his lips.
"And what are they saying," Dean asks, "about Elena?"
"It's all speculation," the hunter says, clearly dancing around the subject. "There are a lot of rumors flying around about what exactly went down with the Men of Letters. You all were very secretive about the whole ordeal. Makes people question what really happened... and who's to blame."
Elena and Dean freeze.
"The Men of Letters... they killed the hunters. We didn't—"
"Elena," Dean says, his voice low. Elena presses her lips into a thin line, swallowing the rest of her words. "My brother is calling for us."
"I'll be here," the hunter says, leaning against the bar. "Waiting."
Dean smiles tightly before dragging Elena through the bar and back to their table. Sam and Cas are both frowning, clearly having missed what just transpired and awaiting an explanation.
"What's going on?"
"Do you see the man at the bar? Buzz cut?" Dean reaches for his things, trying to appear calm. Sam nods, his eyes only leaving his brother for a second. "Hunter. Recognized Elena."
"What does he want?"
"Someone to blame," Dean says, motioning for Cas to stand up. The angel rises, brows still furrowed in confusion.
"For the Men of Letters?"
"Yes," Elena says weakly, her knees wobbly. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, her head swimming. She'd been struggling with her part in the Men of Letters' plan since it happened. She hated keeping it a secret, hated living with the guilt of causing so many deaths.
"Dean, if they know Elena—"
"I know," Dean says, shrugging on his jacket.
"What? What will they do?" Elena looks between her friends, eyes pleading. She felt like she was back in that hallway, Kai leaning over her telling her how everything was her fault. It was revolting, made her skin crawl.
"Elena—" Sam turns, trying to spare her.
"They'll kill you," Dean says sharply, cutting off his brother. Elena nearly falls forward, the impact of his words punching her in the gut. Sam reaches out to steady her, leading her to sit in the nearest chair.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she whispers, putting her head in her hands. Dean watches her, hands shaking.
[Editor's Note]: I wish I had said something to her in this moment or consoled her in some way. I did not know how to help, and I regret that deeply.
"I'll tell them it was me," Dean says, looking away from Elena and meeting his brother's gaze. His voice is dark, almost frightening, when he says, "The Men of Letters got the information from me. It was my fault."
"What? No! Dean, you can't," Elena says, her head flying up so fast she makes herself dizzy. She moves to stand, but Sam reaches out to stop her. "I deserve it. I did this. You can't—"
"Do it," Sam says, nodding to Dean. "I'll get her out of here."
Running a hand down his face, Dean turns away without saying another word to Elena. He disappears into the crowd and Elena turns to Sam, frantic.
"He has to Elena. They'll want you dead if he doesn't," Sam tells her, but it doesn't help the unsettling feeling in her gut.
"But Dean—"
"Dean will be fine," Sam assures her, pulling them both to their feet and leading the way to the door. Cas follows, eyes trailed on the ground. Seeing Elena's wide eyes, Sam adds, "I promise."
A Time Set Out of Time
[Editor's Note]: I do apologize for the interruption, but while I am writing this something quite strange has come to my attention. To construct this file, I have been pouring over manuscripts and descriptions written of their time on earth. (I have, of course, also been consulting Dean and Elena since they share a space in Heaven.) These papers range from Cupid transcripts to accounts from angels and everything in between. And just now, when I went to pick up the file containing the notes for the next scene, I noticed a folder dated back to the creation of the universe. But the file is empty; all the pages absent. No other "soulmate" box I have come across has contained such a file, so perhaps it is just here by mistake, but it is curious that such a file even exists—and that all its contents are missing. I will investigate and share my findings with you later on. Until then, let us carry on.
September 26th, 2020
[Editor's Note:] This scene is going to seem slightly out of context. I have decided to dedicate the next section to their worst fights, and that will best explain how they came to this point.
"Elena..." Dean closes the door behind him, eyes wide as he takes in the sight before him. Elena sits on the bed, mascara tears streaking down her cheeks. She was crying because of him. "I didn't mean it."
"Yes, you did," Elena whispers, ducking her head to hide from him. Dean sighs, not knowing what to say. Slowly, as to not frighten her, he crosses the room and sits beside her on the bed.
"I'm sorry," Dean finally says, and Elena hiccups a dry laugh.
"You don't have to lie to me," she says bitterly, rubbing her palms against her eyes. Her hands come away stained, her makeup smeared. "I know how you really feel about the subject."
"It's not... It's just..." Dean trails off, not knowing how to explain to the girl beside him how he felt. "It's not you."
"I know," Elena mutters, closing her eyes. Her mind was suddenly back in a motel room in an old Valentine's Day season, Dean's words then almost identical to what he was telling her now. He couldn't do it, he had told her, not with the darkness looming over them. But what was his excuse now?
"I know you think I'm not hearing you," Dean continues, his fingers itching to touch her. He keeps his hands tightly wrapped around his knees to stop himself. "I do hear you. You have to know that."
"You just choose to ignore me," Elena says, opening her eyes and finally turning to face him. Dean sucks in a breath, shocked to see so much hurt in her big brown eyes. "Why?"
"Why...?"
"Yes. Why? Why do you push me aside? Why do you pretend my voice doesn't matter? Why do you treat me like a child?" Elena reaches out, as if she's about to grip his sleeve, then thinks better of it. Her hands land on the bed between them, fisting the comforter.
"I don't treat you—" Dean stops himself when he sees the anger flash across Elena's features. "I don't mean to," he corrects, suddenly ashamed of himself. He looks down, scared of facing her. "I just... It's what I do. I keep people safe."
"But that's your job. This is a relationship, Dean, not a hunt," Elena says, sniffling.
"I know that, but... I can't lose you, Elena. I just can't. I know I've said that before, but it's the truth. And after everything that's happened..." Dean returns his gaze to her eyes, his chest tightening. "I'd rather you hate me then have to watch you die."
[Editor's Note]: It is curious how often people foreshadow their own future without knowing it. Perhaps this in and of itself is some supernatural phenomenon. I will have to follow up on this.
"I can't live like this," Elena whispers, shaking her head. "I won't." Dean doesn't say anything, knowing exactly what she means. Elena was never one to allow others to make decisions for her. "What are we doing, Dean?"
Dean keeps his mouth shut, preventing himself from saying what he was thinking. We're killing each other.
"All we do is fight," Elena continues, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. "I don't even know what we're fighting for."
"For us," Dean says, reaching out and covering her hands with his. Elena looks down at their hands, a twisted look on her face. Dean moves his hands. "For this. You and me."
"Then why don't you want to marry me?" Elena's bottom lip trembles as she asks, the words hanging between them. A lump has formed in Dean's throat that he can't swallow around.
Dean's mind replays their earlier conversation, the one that had led to this. I don't want to get married, he had told her. Especially not to someone so young.
"Don't tell me it's because I'm too young," Elena says, shaking her head fiercely. "You and I both know that was never the problem."
Dean sighs, leaning forward into his hands. He'd dreaded this, known it was coming. They'd been circling the drain for months now, maybe even years, and he knew that this would be the tipping point. They were going down, and there was no stopping it.
"I don't want a family," he says, his words sucking the air out of the room.
Elena lets out a guttering sound, and Dean can't bring himself to look at her. She'd never said it out loud before, but he knew what she wanted. Elena wanted a family, children to call her own. Even if she couldn't have the white picket fence, she refused to let go of her family oriented mindset. She'd made references to the concept before, offhandedly mentioning rooms in the bunker that would make good nurseries and staring affectionately at mothers with their children when they passed by on the street. Dean had kept his mouth shut, thinking that one of them would change their mind. He sees now how naïve that hope truly was.
"I'm sorry," Dean says into his hands, fearing lifting his head to face her. Elena doesn't say anything, but he can hear her attempting to stifle her tears.
"You should've told me," she finally says. Dean lifts his head, but keeps his gaze on the floor. Elena twists her necklace—the one Dean had given her so long ago—around her fingers. When she releases the chain, it sits heavy on her chest, threatening to weigh her down.
"I'm sorry," Dean repeats. Elena shakes her head, turning away from him. Dean takes it like a slap across his face, stunning him.
"How did we not see this?" Elena speaks her question to the air, Dean remaining silent. "Did you think we were just going to stay like this forever?"
"I thought..." Dean swallows thickly. "I thought maybe you'd change your mind. Or maybe I would. I don't know."
"We're too stubborn for that," Elena points out, a bitter tone seeping into her voice that coils Dean's intestines. "It's the one thing we have in common."
"But I love you," Dean says in defense, hoping that will be enough to ease the tension. Enough to save them.
"I love you too," Elena says darkly. "But this isn't a fairytale."
They sit in silence for a long time, the air thick as the words settle around them. It hurt to be there, so near to each other, but for the time being neither could bring themselves to leave. The words had been spoken; the charade was over.
"So where does this leave us?" Elena turns to Dean, hoping he will create a solution. She couldn't bear the thought of life without him, but she couldn't see how to continue living with him either.
"I don't know," Dean says.
Elena lets out a puff of painful air, her gaze returning to the floor. She moves to wipe her face to find her cheeks dry. She'd stopped crying.
Dean slowly rises from the bed, running a hand down his face. He walks around the bed, tugging his pillow and the throw blanket up into his arms before moving towards the door. He stops, turning back to look at her.
"Ask me to stay."
Elena keeps her gaze on the floor, shifting uncomfortably.
"I want you to ask me to stay," Dean says weakly, his gaze wavering as he watches her. Elena shakes her head, refusing to look at him.
Dean leaves silently, and Elena is alone.
[Editor's Note]: They did not fight again until the end.
Author's Note:
There are only four chapters left! And I really do want to crank out these last couple of chapters so I can move on to writing other things. The count down has seriously begun guys...