A/N: Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for all of your reviews from the last chapter! It's so exciting for me to hear from people who are genuinely caught up in the story. I hope that you all enjoy this next chapter! Thanks again to my awesome beta tenaciousmetoo! You rock, girl!

---------------------------

Chapter Seven – Snickerdoodles

When Dean entered the kitchen, Ellie was just finishing up the dishes. She jumped a bit when she saw him in the doorway, but she quickly recovered. "Do you need something else?" she asked.

"I'm kind of hungry," Dean said, his stomach rumbling again as he looked at the food that was still lying out on the counter. "I didn't get to eat anything earlier. Would you mind if I made myself a plate?"

Ellie smiled. "Not at all." She dried her hands off on a dish towel. "In fact, I'll make it for you. What all do you want?"

Dean grinned. "Whatever you've got."

Ellie pulled a stool out and patted it. "Take a seat." Dean did as he was told and watched as Ellie piled a plate high with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, baked beans, cole slaw, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, and Jenna's cornbread. She set it in front of Dean and then handed him some silverware and a napkin. She poured two glasses of milk and cut herself a piece of cherry pie. She passed Dean one of the glasses of milk and then sat down directly across from him.

"It really sucks, what happened to your car. You've kept it in great condition. It's an Impala, from the 60's right?"

Dean looked up, impressed. "Yeah. It's a '67 actually. How'd you know that?"

"My dad restores classic cars," Ellie said, taking a bite of her pie. "My parents got divorced when I was just a baby, and they had joint custody of me. My dad never remarried, so when I went over to his place, it was just me and him. Instead of leaving me with a babysitter, Dad would bring me in to the shop while he was working. I'm sure he would be drooling all over the place if he saw the beauty you're driving around. Where did you get it anyway? I would think buying one in such good condition would cost a small fortune."

"Originally, it was my dad's car. He gave it to me when I turned sixteen."

Ellie grinned. "Seriously? That's so awesome!"

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding. "It was definitely the best present my dad ever gave me." Much better than the year he bought me rock salt and a bowie knife, he thought to himself. The two ate in silence for several minutes while Dean wracked his brain for a topic to discuss with the girl in front of him. Then, out of nowhere, Dean found himself asking, "So how long have you and Luke been dating?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean felt like hitting himself, but Ellie didn't seem to mind the question.

"Eight years," she answered simply, taking another bite of her cherry pie. "Ever since the seventh grade."

Dean smirked, his eyes dancing. "So I guess you would say it's a serious relationship?"

Ellie giggled. "You think? But ..." She trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"Trouble in paradise?" Dean asked, concerned. Is she about to admit that he's an abusive ass?

Ellie studied her glass of milk. "It's just that...Luke's not been himself lately. He's been...different."

Thinking of the yellow eyes, Dean decided to push this further. "How so?"

"He's been moody, and he gets really angry about the simplest things." Ellie replied, a faraway look in her eyes. "Ever since last summer, he's never been the same."

"What happened last summer?" Dean asked curiously, swallowing a mouthful of cornbread.

"Nothing," Ellie said quickly. "I mean, nothing specific. He just changed, that's all. He's not the same sweet guy that I fell in love with." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "When we were growing up, the other kids would tease me because I was always sitting on the swings alone, reading a book, while they played jump rope and tag and stuff. Luke would come sit by me, just so I wouldn't be alone. Sometimes he would try to get me to talk to him; but other times he would just sit there, keeping me company."

Dean felt a sharp pain in his chest, and he rubbed at it awkwardly. "That sounds nice."

Ellie nodded. "It was. We finally started dating after he kissed me at the annual 4th of July festival the summer before 7th grade. He took me on the ferris wheel, and when we got to the top, he just leaned over and kissed me." She paused, seemingly caught up in the memory, her fingertips absentmindedly brushing across her lips. But then she frowned, her forehead creased with sadness. "He's so different now. He doesn't care about me like that anymore."

Dean couldn't help himself. "So why are you still with the bastard?"

Ellie's gaze met Dean's. "It's complicated," she said, her grey eyes full of hurt and betrayal. Again, Dean felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. Must be heartburn, he thought, thinking of the baked beans he had just shoveled down his throat.

"So," Ellie said, taking a sip of her milk, "where are you and Sam originally from?"

"Lawrence, Kansas. But when I was four, my mom died and Dad started moving Sam and I around a lot."

Ellie tilted her head sympathetically. "Oh, wow, I'm so sorry. That's terrible that you lost your mother at such a young age. What happened to her?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, ready to give Ellie one of the many prepared lies that he and Sam had used throughout their lives whenever someone asked about the circumstances of their mother's death: she had cancer, she was in a horrific car accident, she fell down some stairs and broke her neck, etc. But for the first time, Dean felt a huge wave of guilt wash over him. For some reason, he felt like Ellie would understand his family's story and fully accept it without a single ounce of judgment. However, his survival instincts refused to allow him to divulge the whole truth about his history, so Dean settled for a compromise:

"Our house caught fire one night. My dad managed to get Sam and I out of the house, but our mom was trapped inside. My dad couldn't save her." Technically, this was all true. He had just left out the part about an evil demon being responsible for the whole damn thing.

Ellie shook her head sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. "That's horrible. God, I'm so sorry. I should have never even brought this up. I'm a total idiot."

Dean smiled gently. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know. And you're definitely not an idiot." Their eyes met, and a fierce blush spread across Ellie's face. Dean felt the pang in his chest again. Damn it, heartburn! I hope Sam has some Rolaids...

Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed through the house. Ellie and Dean stared at each other paralyzed with fear for a moment before Dean finally leapt to his feet. "It's Sam."

"Oh my God," Ellie whispered. Dean burst through the kitchen door and ran as fast as he could down the hall, skidding slightly in his socks, with Ellie right behind him. When they got to the living room, they found Sam on the floor, tangled in blankets and yelling out for Dean to help him.

"He's having a nightmare," Dean said, breathless. "Sam! Sam, wake up!" He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and began to shake him. Ellie turned on a lamp and light flooded the room.

"What the hell is going on down there?" Phil's voice bellowed from the hallway.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back."

"Sam! Sammy, c'mon wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Suddenly, Sam's eyes flew open. "Dean!" he exclaimed. "They took them! They took the girls!"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What? Sam, calm down. What girls?"

"Lizzie! And the little blond girl! Jess's friends! They took them into the woods! They're going to hurt them!"

"Sam, it was just a dream. There are no little girls in the woods. Trust me, the cops are out there, they would've noticed." Hopefully, he thought to himself.

"It was so real," Sam whispered, his hand cradling his left shoulder. "Dean, it's getting worse."

"What?" Dean asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "The dreams?"

Sam nodded. "Every time, they get more realistic. In this last one, I hurt my shoulder. I'm awake now, but my shoulder is still throbbing."

Dean rubbed his face tiredly. "Well, you did fall off the couch. Maybe you hurt it when you landed."

Sam didn't meet Dean's eyes. "Yeah. Maybe you're right. Still, it hurts like hell."

Dean grinned. "Jeez, you sure are tough, Butch."

"Bite me, jackass."

At that moment, Ellie reentered the room, muttering curse words under her breath. Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows at her, and she blushed. "My step-dad," she explained. "He was all pissed about you making noise down here. He's a jerk." She shook her head. "Are you okay, Sam? I'm no expert, but that sounded like a pretty bad nightmare."

Sam couldn't meet her eyes. "Yeah, it was. I'm sorry that I woke up your parents. The dream...it just seemed so real."

"Don't worry about it," Ellie said, smiling kindly. "You two stay in here, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes. I know just how to cheer you up."

Dean smiled back at her. "Thanks, Ellie." He waited until the door had closed behind her before he turned to Sam. "Okay, spill your guts. What happened this time?"

Sam swallowed and told Dean the whole sordid tale of miniature Jess and her two friends, the cloaked figures, and how they had kidnapped the two people that Sam was apparently supposed to protect. Dean waited until his brother had finished before tilting his head to the side and saying, "You know, all of this cryptic dream stuff is really starting to piss me off. Why can't any of these dream people just tell you what they really mean? Like, why can't Jess tell you who these girls are and where we can find them? And why can't the evil thing – or should I say things – reveal themselves so that we know what we're up against? What the hell does it all mean?"

Sam shrugged. "I have no idea. I just know that I have to protect those two girls, whoever they are. If I don't, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

Dean nodded. "I know. Don't worry, Sammy. We'll kick this thing's ass. We always do, right?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I guess so -- with the exception of that witch in Albuquerque."

Dean shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Thinking about that chick still gives me the creeps." He paused, sniffing at the air. "Hey. Do you smell that?"

Sam took a deep breath in. After a moment, he said, "Yeah. It smells like sugar. And cinnamon. And butter."

"Baked goods," Dean whispered, licking his lips. "Heavenly, homemade baked goods."

"Here we go!" Ellie exclaimed, suddenly entering the living room holding a tray piled high with cookies and three glasses of milk. "My mother's remedy for nightmares and depression."

Sam grinned as he picked a cookie up off the plate. "Snickerdoodles! I love these things!" Jess had made them for him all the time, and they were now one of his favorite snacks.

But Dean was glancing warily at the cookies. "What the hell are sicker poodles?"

Ellie giggled. "They're called snickerdoodles."

Sam was dumbstruck. "Dean! Don't tell me you've never had a snickerdoodle!"

Dean shrugged. "No, I haven't, brain trust. What's so great about them anyway?"

Ellie grinned and shook her head. "You poor, deprived child. Try one, and you'll see."

Giving both Ellie and Sam skeptical looks, Dean chose a cookie from the plate and bit into it. It was still warm from the oven, and it was so soft that it practically melted in his mouth. He had never eaten a more delicious cookie in his life. He shut his eyes, relishing the flavor.

Ellie and Sam laughed as Dean grabbed two more off of the plate. "What did I tell you?" Ellie asked.

"Best. Cookie. Ever," Dean murmured through a mouthful of snickerdoodle.

"I concur," Sam agreed, reaching for another.

"Well," Ellie said with a wink. "I'm glad that you like them." She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "I should probably be getting to bed. It's been something of a long day."

"Right," Sam said, nodding. "Thanks for the cookies and the blankets and stuff."

Ellie smiled and brushed a stray strand of her hair off her face. "No problem. I'll see the two of you tomorrow."

"Good night," Dean said, watching her until she had disappeared into the hall. He turned to grab another cookie and saw Sam trying desperately not to laugh. "What?"

"I saw that."

"You saw what?"

Sam took a sip of milk before responding. "You were totally checking her ass out just now."

Dean nearly choked on the cookie he had just devoured. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam's grin got even wider. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Dean shook his head. "Sam, Ellie's a cute kid and everything, but I do not think of her like that."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? She sure seems to think of you like that."

Dean couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, well, what girl doesn't?"

Sam rolled his eyes and chucked a pillow at his brother. "Dude, you are so obnoxious sometimes."

"It's a gift."

"So you have no feelings for Ellie whatsoever?" Sam asked, settling back on the couch he fell from earlier.

"None."

"Okay then." Thou doth protest too much, Sam thought to himself as Dean turned off the lamp and settled in on the other couch. There was silence for several minutes as each brother lay awake staring at the ceiling. Then, "Hey, Sam? Do you have any Rolaids?"

"Um, no. Why?"

There was a long pause before Dean answered. "No reason. Good night, Sammy."

"Good night, Dean."

----------------------------------

The next morning, Dean was awakened by the sound of a very familiar voice. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and listening hard. The more lucid he became, the more familiar the voice sounded.

"Please, God," Sam muttered from underneath a pillow. "Make the madness stop."

Suddenly, something clicked in Dean's head, and he knew exactly why he recognized the voice. He was so excited that he jumped to his feet. "Sam! Is that--"

"Yes," Sam said, sitting up and clasping his hands over his ears. "It's Boston. She's been playing it ever since her parents left about an hour ago to make plans for Josh's funeral. Meanwhile, I've been doing my best not to take my own life."

Dean grinned. "You're such a loser. You don't even know classic music when you hear it." He entered the hallway with Sam at his heels. The music was coming from the kitchen. The Winchesters crept down the hall and eased the kitchen door open a crack. Sam let out an audible gasp, and Dean quickly clapped a hand over his brother's mouth.

Plates of pancakes, waffles, french toast, sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, and biscuits sat on every available flat surface along with a pitcher of milk and a pitcher of orange juice. Ellie, dressed in an oversized Rolling Stones concert t-shirt and a pair of black boxer shorts, was at the stove cooking what looked to be omelets. She was singing along with Boston lead singer Brad Delp to "Rock and Roll Band." She seemed completely oblivious to her audience as she shook her hips in time to the music. Sam and Dean let the door swing shut and returned to the living room.

"Well," Sam said, laughing as he dug through his bag for a clean set of clothes. "I don't care what you say. You both have the same awful taste in music. You're obviously meant for each other. And don't even try to deny that you weren't checking out her ass in those boxer shorts."

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled a clean pair of jeans on. "You are so immature."

Sam grinned as he pulled on a red t-shirt. "I knew it. You totally have a thing for her."

"I do not!" Dean exclaimed, smacking his brother upside the head. "Now just shut up already! She might hear you!"

Sam towered over Dean. "Make me."

Dean threw a punch, but Sam blocked it and twisted Dean's arm behind his back. Dean kicked Sam in the shins, and Sam let out a yelp of pain. Soon, the brothers were wrestling, half-dressed, on the floor.

"Annoying, thinks-he-knows-it-all bastard," Dean hissed, putting Sam in a chokehold.

"Conceited, commitment-phobic jackass," Sam muttered, breaking free and pinning Dean on his back.

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted them, and they looked up to see Ellie standing in the doorway, an amused expression on her face. She had changed into a pair of faded jeans and a long-sleeved purple t-shirt, and her long, brown hair hung loose around her face. She adjusted her glasses on her nose and tried to appear serious. "Whenever you two are finished practicing for your WWE audition, you can come to the kitchen. I've cooked you a hot breakfast."

"Right," Dean said, slightly winded. "Thanks." Ellie disappeared into the hallway, and the brothers stared at one another for a moment.

"Get the hell off of me," Dean said, shoving his brother's injured shoulder.

"Ow!" Sam exclaimed, rolling off of Dean and clutching his bruised arm. "That hurt, Dean!"

"Wuss," Dean muttered, pulling on a clean shirt.

Sam pouted as he finished getting dressed, purposely not glancing in Dean's direction. Dean was okay with the silent treatment. It was Sam's incessant talking that often made him nuts.

The brothers were pulling on their shoes -- boots for Dean and sneakers for Sam -- when the Wallaces' doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Ellie shouted from the kitchen. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then Sam and Dean heard the front door creak open. "Well, hello," Ellie said, sounding slightly surprised. "Can I help--"

"Are they still here?"

"Um, what--"

"The Winchesters. Are they still here?"

"Do you mean Sam and Dean?"

"Yes. Are they still here?"

Dean, suddenly all business, shot Sam a look. Lillian, he mouthed silently.

Sam nodded. It was indeed Lillian Jacobs's voice, but there was something very odd about her tone. She sounded hushed, urgent, and even slightly hostile. There was obviously something very wrong.

"Look," the brothers heard Ellie say, "I don't know why you're here, but I don't think you—hey!" There was a scuffling noise in the hallway followed by a grunt that sounded like it came from Ellie. Suddenly, Lillian Jacobs was standing in the doorway looking positively murderous. She held a sheaf of papers in her hand, and her curly red hair looked wild, as if she had been running her hands through it over and over again. Ellie appeared behind her, clutching at her stomach. Lillian had obviously shoved her in order to gain entry into the house.

Confused and wary about what was going on, Dean decided to turn on the charm. "Lillian! What are you doing here?"

"Shut up," Lillian spat venomously. "Just shut up. I know."

This statement sent chills up both Winchesters' spines. Sam licked his lips. "You know what?"

Lillian ignored him and glared at Dean. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

Ellie glanced from Lillian to Dean and back again. "What are you talking about?"

Lillian turned to look at Ellie, her eyebrows raised. "Didn't you think it was weird how neither of these clowns wanted to file a police report?" Ellie didn't answer. "As it turns out, they didn't want to file a report because they didn't want the cops to know about them. Because Dean? He's a wanted man."

Ellie's eyes flickered slightly as she glanced at Dean. "Wanted for what?"

"For attempted murder," Lillian answered, clearly relishing the drama of the moment. When Ellie's eyes widened, Lillian threw her head back and laughed coldly. "Yeah, that was my first reaction too, Sugar Pie. He may seem nice and charming despite that annoyingly cocky flirtatious streak, but underneath that all-American-quarterback exterior, he's just a coldhearted killer."

"That's not true," Sam said, his voice firm and hard.

Lillian rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Stringbean. You're obviously his accomplice. No one's going to believe you."

"Lillian," Dean said, trying to stay calm. "It's not at all what you think."

"Oh really?" Lillian scoffed. "Let's see if I'm not on the right track. A few weeks ago, one Dean Winchester was wanted by the Saint Louis Police Department for attempted murder. He attacked a young girl, tied her to a chair, gagged her, and sliced her up with a knife." Lillian paused here to put a hand on Ellie's shoulder. "She was about your age." Ellie looked ill. Lillian continued, "Thankfully, the girl was found and she survived; but somehow Dean escaped from the police. A manhunt ensued, and Dean's picture was plastered all over news stations in Missouri." She stopped and shot Dean a cold look as she held up a sheet of paper with a sketch drawing of Dean on it. "I knew that I recognized you from somewhere." She glanced backwards at Ellie. "Now this is where it gets really interesting."

Ellie, who now looked as white as a sheet, couldn't take her eyes off of the sketch drawing. "Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, her voice strangled.

Lillian was clearly enjoying this. "Well," she said, shuffling through the sheaf of papers. "The cops found Dean a few hours later. Shot twice in the chest. Dead. Here's the death certificate to prove it," she said, holding up yet another sheet of paper.

Ellie snatched the paper out of Lillian's hand and studied it intently. "Oh my God," she whispered, her hands shaking.

"Lillian, please," Dean said, taking a step forward. "You have to understand--"

"Understand what, Dean?" Lillian asked, looking more crazed by the second. "Are you going to tell me that there's a reasonable explanation for you trying to kill a girl and escaping from the police? Or even better, do you have a reasonable explanation for the fact that you're legally dead?"

"I swear, I didn't do those things," Dean said, taking another step forward. "Just calm down and let me expl--"

But before Dean could finish, Lillian had reached into her long, green jacket and pulled a gun on him. Ellie screamed, and Sam shouted, "NO!"

"Don't. Move," Lillian hissed at Dean, who had held up his arms in surrender. "Or you'll die for real this time. I'll make damn sure of it."

-------------------------------

Yes, I know I'm an evil bitch for leaving you hanging again, but I simply can't help myself. I'm in the midst of writing chapter eight as we speak so stay tuned to find out what happens next. In the meantime, please review! Thanks!