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—"
"Oh yes," Dean says sarcastically, his eyes narrowing. The venom in his voice is deadly, and Elena drops her arms. "I always dismiss you. How horrible of me."
"You don't have to act like that," Elena whispers. Dean clenches his jaw, but doesn't back down. Sighing, Elena rakes her hands through her hair as she sits down on the bed next to the evidence of her betrayal. "What do you want me to say, Dean? That I'm happy? That I'll never leave you?"
"I don't know, Elena! I don't know what I want! An apology would be nice—"
"You want me to say I'm sorry?" Elena jerks back to a standing position, suddenly too antsy and angry to sit still. Dean freezes, considers backtracking his words, until Elena says, "Well, I'm not."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not sorry for printing out the articles," Elena continues, picking up the pages. She flips through them, a tug in her stomach reminding her that at the time, these pages had given her hope. "I'm not sorry for wanting to be happy; I'm not sorry for thinking about my future; and I'm sure as hell not sorry for considering the possibility that maybe my future doesn't involve you."
Dean sucks in a breath, his stomach dropping as if it were weighted down by stones. He has to process her words, repeat them back to himself in his mind to confirm he'd understood correctly. It suddenly occurred to him, in the midst of all this screaming, how baffling the idea was. A future? Without them together? No, that didn't sound right. It didn't feel right.
[Editor's Note]: It did not feel right to any of us.
"Do you regret meeting me, too?" Dean tries to ask the question with the same ferocity as Elena's words, but his voice sounds too small. Elena blinks, perhaps coming back from whatever angry place she had found herself in, and shakes her head. "But you regret being with me. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"It's what you said," Dean snaps, eyes darkening. "I thought we weren't supposed to say things we didn't mean. Isn't that right?"
"That was months ago—"
"Don't say things you don't mean. Yeah, that's what you told me," Dean says, still glaring. Elena stops herself from rolling her eyes.
"You're being ridiculous," Elena says instead, but Dean latches onto that too.
"Oh, am I? Am I being childish, too? Because I thought we weren't supposed to call each other that anymore after last time," Dean comments dryly.
"We have to stop," Elena says urgently, finally tossing the papers aside. They weren't doing them any good, and they were beyond that argument now anyway. "We can't keep lording things over each other. It's going to ruin us."
"I think we're already pretty damaged," Dean snaps. "Hell, I spend most of my nights in the library now."
"I didn't ask you to," Elena defends.
"You didn't ask me to stay, either," Dean reminds her.
"There we go again! We're talking in circles! Can't you see that? We have the same arguments over and over again, but nothing changes," Elena exclaims, her hands shaking. She steadies one over her necklace, the metal cold under her palm.
"So what? Are you going to tell me that we need to open up more? I need to let you make decisions and all that crap?" Dean's mind is still one-track, focused on hurting Elena like she hurt him. "I'm not going to change who I am, Elena. Not even for you."
"Then why did you make all those promises about loving me forever, huh? Being in it for the long haul?" Elena's fist tightens around the necklace, the keychain digging into her palm. The metal feels icy hot in her hands, the cold burning through her bones. "That wasn't fair to either of us."
"This isn't a fairytale, Elena! You told me that, remember?" Dean lifts his arms in mockery as he gestures to the world around them. "This is the real world. Time to grow up and realize that life isn't fair. Life sucks."
Elena explodes. She yanks hard on the necklace, causing the clasp to break and the chain to come free in her hand. The keychain dangles from the end of it, glinting between them dully. Elena hadn't noticed all the scratches and dents on it until now.
"Take it! I'm done with it. With all of it," she screams, throwing the necklace at Dean. It bounces off his chest harmlessly, tinkling when it hits the floor. "I don't want it anymore."
Dean and Elena fall silent, their eyes trained on the necklace. It stares up at them, the talisman representing their relationship screaming to be picked back up. Instead, both find themselves stepping back, retreating from the necklace and each other.
It's then that a feeling in their chests bubbles to the surface. They can tell it's been growing for a long time, building up pressure and pain. It felt heavy, like a rock had been placed within their rib cage and sits between their lungs. The feeling is suffocating, a hole inside of them as if something important had been ripped out. Most of all it felt resolute, something they could not alter or change no matter how hard they tried.
[Editor's Note]: In my search for answers, I have perused many other soulmate files. I do not think it is uncommon for soulmates to sense the end long before it arrives, and most tend to deny the feeling as Elena and Dean did. But pain demands to be felt, as I have been told, and even soulmates cannot avoid the inevitable.
"Are we...?" He couldn't say it, couldn't admit it, even now. Dean finally looks up from the necklace, meeting Elena's gaze. Her hands are shaking and she holds onto the edges of her shirt to keep Dean from noticing.
"I guess so," she whispers. They both shift uncomfortably, unsure of how to act around each other despite the fact that they'd known each other for years. The air around them is different, even though only seconds had passed since Elena removed the necklace, but the change is tangible.
"I don't want to break up," Dean says, taking a heavy step towards the bed. He suddenly felt unable to stand, his legs too wobbly to hold his weight. Dean falls onto the mattress and tries to stop the world from spinning. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Elena tells him as she joins him on the bed. She takes his hand, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind telling her she shouldn't. "But I don't know what else to do. The fact of the matter is we just don't work anymore. At least not like we used to. "
"I know," Dean mutters, finally turning his head towards her. Elena sucks in a breath, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. Dean smiles at her, his world breaking. "If I'd known this was the end, I would've gotten you flowers," he attempts to joke, unintentionally referencing their first date.
They would've died anyway.
They both freeze, hearing Elena's words from so long ago as if they were spoken aloud. Dean's smile drops from his face, the color bleaching from his eyes. It terrified them how perfectly they had foreshadowed their own demise, two flowers long after their expiration date wilting side by side.
Elena stands, Dean's hand falling from hers as she moves away. She reaches the door as her eyes fill with tears and it takes everything in her not to turn back, at least just to see him. But she doesn't, her hand turning the door handle mechanically and stepping out into the hallway.
"Elena? Are you okay?" Sam's voice draws Elena's attention and she turns, her face streaked with tears. Sam's eyes widen, his steps faltering. Somehow he just knew.
Sam approaches her cautiously, wrapping his arms around her small frame. And as everything comes full circle, Elena cries.
February 1st, 2021
"You know you don't have to do this now," Sam says softly, his hands mechanically moving over the box. Elena had found them in a storage closet, the same ones she'd used to move in.
"Yeah, I do," Elena says, her voice heavy and lonesome. Sam sighs, but doesn't press the subject again.
They hadn't spoken much since last night. Well, she hadn't spoken. Sam had tried several times to get her to talk about it, to understand what had transpired between her and his brother. He knew it was over between them, though Elena never explicitly said it. She didn't have to; it was written all over her face.
Sam let her sleep in his room while he took the couch, and Dean hadn't come out of their room—his room, now—until this morning. Elena had already found the boxes by the time Dean left the bunker, and her and Sam had slowly been moving her back to her old room ever since.
"Maybe you guys will work it out," Sam offers, lifting the boxes into his arms. There were only a few more things to be packed up now, Elena's face hardening with every item removed. "I can't imagine you guys without each other. I mean, Dean—"
"Dean and I came to the understanding that we don't work as a couple anymore, Sam," Elena says plainly, grabbing the last of her photographs from the room. She'd divided the ones of her and Dean, leaving his favorites behind just in case he wanted them. "We just don't. We'll be happier apart. You'll see. It'll be good for both of us."
The line sounded rehearsed, as if Elena had been practicing all morning. Sam watches her for a moment, trying to find something in her eyes that would clue him in on how she's feeling. But there's nothing. No pain, no relief. Just nothing.
"I'm gonna put these in your room," Sam says, readjusting the boxes. "I'll come back and carry the last of them."
Elena nods, turning back to what she was doing as Sam leaves the room. Her room isn't far, just around the corner. Sam sets the boxes down next to the others and straightens back up. She had less things, he noticed, than when she moved into Dean's room. When had she gotten rid of things?
Shaking his head, Sam begins to make his way back towards his brother's room. He slows down when he hears voices, muddled at first, and then becoming clear.
"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough. I thought it would be good to be out before..." Elena's voice trails off, the fragility of it making Sam's stomach clench. Sam stops walking several feet away, the light from the room pouring into the hallway. A shadow crosses in front of the door, one he recognizes to be Dean's. Sam must have missed him coming in. "I left some things of ours over there, pictures I know you like and—"
"Why would I want that?" Dean's voice sounds cold and hard compared to Elena's, like he's talking to someone who had wronged him. Sam steadies himself against the wall. They were both in such pain.
"I don't know. I just thought maybe..."
"Well, you thought wrong," Dean snaps back, making Elena gasp a little. There's some shuffling, as if Elena is scooping up the things she'd left behind, and then footsteps approaching the door— "Wait."
The footsteps stop, Elena's shadow darkening the hallway. Sam can imagine the look on her face, a mixture of sorrow and foolish hope. Even now they still loved each other, and Sam wonders if they will ever stop.
"The picture... the one from our first..." Dean clears his throat, bringing up the courage to ask, "Could I have it?"
"Uh, yeah. Of course." Elena's shadow moves away from the door as she hands him the photo.
[Editor's Note]: There's a bit of speculation centered on what photo Dean is referring to. I assume he is talking about the photo they took during their first date in the bunker, but there are several photos depicting "firsts" for them. There is one from their first hunt, for instance, and also one from the day of their first kiss. I do not think we will ever know which photo of them he wanted to keep, and I think it is best that way. Let them have something for themselves.
"Thanks," Dean mutters. Elena waits a moment before leaving, her feet carrying her out into the hall before she can feel any worse. She doesn't stop when she sees Sam in the hallway, just passes right by on the way back to her old room.
February 11th, 2021
Elena sits quietly on her bed, a book open in her lap that she hadn't even started reading yet. She found herself doing that a lot in the past couple of days, staring blankly at things she couldn't process or find the energy to concentrate on. Just the day before she'd spent an hour staring at herself in the mirror before remembering she'd gone in there to brush her teeth.
It was horrible. Miserable, actually. She felt so out of place, so separate from everything that was happening around her. If she thought she'd been pushed aside before, she was highly mistaken. Nothing compared to the hush of conversations when she walked into a room or the loneliness she felt holed up in her room.
She hated calling it that. Her room. It didn't feel like her room at all. She'd spent a long time in this room before moving in with Dean, but somehow it felt different. The walls around her screamed of solitude and confinement, reminding her that now she was nothing more than an unwelcome guest in a house she could no longer call home.
A knock on the door startles Elena out of her trance and she sits up, sliding the book off her lap as Sam peeks his head around the door.
"Hey, could I come in?"
"Yeah, of course," Elena says stiffly. She glances at the clock, only half registering that it was the middle of the afternoon and she hadn't ventured out to eat breakfast yet. "Something you want to talk about?"
"There is," Sam says, sitting down at the foot of the bed. Elena pushes the cover back to bring her legs up, only slightly self-conscious about her pajamas.
"Everything alright...?"
"Actually maybe I should stand," Sam says, clambering back to his feet. Sam looked serious and nervous all at once, and maybe even a little bit sad. Something was clearly on his mind and Elena watches him patiently. "You're my best friend, Elena. You know that."
"I do," Elena says slowly, not seeing where this is going. "You're not going to declare your love for me, are you?"
"No," Sam says, her joke lost on him. "It's not—It's just... I care about you a lot. I would never do anything in a million years to hurt you. And I want you to be happy, I do. But..."
"Dean's your brother," Elena whispers, whatever happiness was left in her fading quickly.
"That's right. Dean is my brother," Sam says, swallowing hard. It's now Elena notices the crease between his eyebrows and the sad look he gets in his eye when he's about to say something that pains him.
"It's alright, Sammy. You can say it," she says.
"I love you no matter what," Sam continues, still not able to dictate what Elena now knew was coming. "I'm always going to be here for you. Always. But Dean is really hurting right now. Not that I blame you, but it's the truth. And he won't admit—he would never admit it because that would mean..."
"Say it," Elena urges. "I need you to say it."
"You being here is just making it worse," Sam says, his voice tight and hardly controlled. But he stares at her head on, eyes cold but set with a determination to see this through properly. "I'm sorry, Elena. I'm so sorry. But you can't stay."
"I know," Elena says, smiling sadly up at Sam. "I know."
February 13th, 2021
"Hey, Elena? Breakfast," Dena calls as he approaches her room. He'd avoided talking to her for long enough, he thought, and now was as good a time as ever to break the ice. "I made pancakes!"
Dean stops in front of her closed door, lifting his hand to knock. It wasn't too early; late enough that she ought to be up and getting ready. After a brief moment of talking himself into it, Dean gently knocks on the door.
"Elena? You up?"
There isn't a response. Dean sighs, moving away from the door. It was her right to avoid him, especially considering he'd been avoiding her for nearly two weeks. He's about to head back towards the kitchen when he stops himself. He might not have this much courage again.
"Elena, I'm sorry," Dean calls through the door, his hands pressed flat against the wood. "I said a lot of stuff I didn't mean. And you were right. I wasn't being fair to us. And—Look, I'd really like to talk about this face to face."
He pauses, waiting for any kind of response, but there is only silence.
"Elena, please," he adds, but still nothing. His hand moves to the door handle, slowly turning it. "Alright, Elena I'm coming in. Don't throw anything at me. I really just want to—"
The room is empty. Every corner, every surface, is completely wiped clean. The walls are bare, the nightstand missing all the things Dean knew Elena kept there. It was like a blank slate, like the bunker had somehow pressed the reset button on this room and it had gone back to the way it used to be overnight. Even the bed is tucked in exactly like it was when they'd first found the bunker, as if no one had ever occupied this space. As if Elena had never been here.
"Dean," Sam says cautiously, somehow appearing at Dean's side. He hadn't heard his brother approach. "She's gone."
Dean continues to stand in the doorway staring at the room. He couldn't process the emptiness.
"She left last night," Sam says, taking a peek into the room himself. Even he couldn't stand seeing the room that way, so empty of Elena. "She's going to stay at a motel in town until she finds a proper place."
Sam goes on to say more about her plan, something about how she would reach out when she was ready, but Dean isn't listening. He couldn't see or hear past the void before him. Now the hole wasn't just inside him. It was tangible, a blemish within the bunker that would never go away and would always demand to be felt.
He could almost feel her in the air, smell her vanilla perfume. He couldn't remember the last time she sprayed it in here—it must have been years—but it smelled as if she'd put it on right before leaving. Could a person leave an imprint in air?
"She's really gone," Dean whispers, interrupting whatever Sam had been saying.
"Come on, let's go eat breakfast," Sam says, clamping a hand around his brother's shoulder and steering him away from Elena's empty room.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much for reading! I'm super happy that I got to post this on the actual date of the first scene. I've literally been planning on doing that since I decided to use my birthday as their break up, so I'm glad it worked out. And I really hope you liked this chapter. I re-wrote the break up scene so many times and I'm still not 100% sure that I like how it ended up, so let me know what you think!
Reminder that there are only two chapters left! It just goes downhill from here for Dean and Elena...
Thank you again for reading! Until next time!
~ spnjackles