Us Against the World
By January Lily
Sing slow it down
Slow it down
Chapter 11: Asylum
The Winchester siblings sat in their motel room. Dean watched whatever he could find on the motels cable. Sam was talking to someone on his cellphone. She could have sworn she had heard him say Pastor Jim, but she really hadn't been paying attention. Elle sat on the queen-sized bed she had claimed the night before with her sketchbook on her lap. She absently rubbed at her left wrist. The soft cast was no longer on her wrist—but she probably should have gotten the hard cast on it like she was medically advised to do. She wiggled her fingers but there was still some pain shooting through her wrist as she did so. If only she had something stronger than ibuprofen to deal through the pain. Although—she supposed swinging a baseball bat at a home's walls didn't help her wrist heal any better. Thankfully, she could still draw because her dominant hand wasn't the one she had hurt. Elle sketched a picture of the first actual memory of her mother—smiling at her and telling her that she could come out of the pantry. Maybe it was because she wanted the picture to be perfect, but she couldn't get this one just right. She wanted to do her mother justice in her artwork, but so far, Elle didn't feel that she was accomplishing that. Sam walked by her bed and looked down at the picture. He complimented her, but Elle only rolled her eyes because in her eyes it wasn't even halfway decent. Although, people were always more critical of their own work then others were. Dean used the remote to turn the TV off before he swung his legs off the rollaway bed and faced his little sister.
"Elle, I know you're not gonna want to have this conversation, but we got to," Dean said.
"I already know how to use tampons, thanks though," Elle retorted sarcastically.
"Not that kind of conversation—a Dad conversation."
"Why does everything always have to come back to him?"
"We are the fruits of his loins."
"Ew—never use that phrase again."
"I agree with Elle on that one," Sam added.
"So where did you ditch Dad?" Dean asked.
"First of all—he was going to ditch me to begin with so I just beat him to the punch and I left him in northern Wisconsin," Elle said.
"Can you be any less specific?"
"A tiny town called Rhinelander, Home of the friggin' Hodag or something like that—besides, it's not like he's there or anything," Elle said rolling her eyes.
"I think he headed to California after that," Sam said. "I've been trying to keep some tabs on him."
"Why do we even have to find him? I mean—we proved that we're more than capable without him in Lawrence."
"I'm sorry that you're in some pissing match with him—but this is Dad we're talking about, Elle. Does there really need to be a better reason?" Dean argued.
"To find a man who hates me? Yes."
"He doesn't hate you."
"What would you know about it? I asked him if he loved me—and he didn't answer the question."
"Are you really that stupid? Asking him probably just pissed him off because he didn't want to answer a stupid question—Dad's just Dad, Elle; but he loves us in his own different ways. Besides, I made a promise to you that I intend on keeping."
"Love you? Sure. Sam? More than likely. Me—"
"Hey—guys, shut up, I'm calling Caleb," Sam interrupted.
Dean and Elle looked to each other, but kept their mouths shut as Sammy talked with Caleb on the phone. Caleb was the guy who supplied John Winchester with his 'munitions, but from the sound of the phone conversation it didn't appear that the man had any clue where their father was. Elle really wasn't all that worried about him since she had seen him about a month ago in Wisconsin, but that didn't leave Sam and Dean with any comfort. She knew that John Winchester was more than capable of surviving on his own; but even she had to admit that somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, he would always be her father. While she continually tried to block any emotions toward the man she hadn't fully mastered the skill yet, leaving her with the slightest sense of worry about him. But that was something she would never admit to Sam or Dean. Dean got up and walked over to take John's journal from the table between Sam and Elle's beds. He then plopped onto Sam's bed and began flipping through it.
"So now what?" Elle asked.
"Since when do you care?" Dean questioned.
"I don't like your tone. I'm choosing not to answer that question. Sam, did Caleb have anything?"
"Nope and neither did Pastor Jim or Jefferson. Does the journal say anything?" Sam questioned.
"No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out…I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda," Dean said with the journal on his lap.
"Buttmunch, Dean is," Elle retorted.
"Was that supposed to be funny?"
"I'm trying to talk like Yoda."
"Well don't because you suck at it."
"Guys, as much as I hate to say it, maybe we should call the Feds," Sam interrupted.
"And do what? File a missing person's?" Elle asked.
"Yeah, anything to help us find Dad."
"We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail," Dean argued.
"Pissed, Dad would be," Elle added before Dean glared at her and she muttered an apology. "Sorry."
"I don't care anymore. This is getting a little ridiculous, Dean…" Sam started when Dean's cellphone began to ring from across the room. Dean got up to get it. "I mean, like Elle said, after everything that happened back in Kansas. Dad should have been there, Dean. You said so yourself. Not to mention that you tried to call him and…nothing."
"I know that," Dean grunted as he rummaged through his duffel bag. "But I think there's more to the whole Wisconsin vacation that Elle's not telling us. Damnit! Where the hell is my cellphone?"
"Fine, you really want to know what happened in Wisconsin?" Elle hissed as she walked over to Dean and started going through his clothes that fell to the floor. "Long story short: Dad was an ass so I left him in the woods. End of story."
"You know, for all we know, he could be dead," Sam sighed
"Don't say that!" Dean hissed. "He's not dead! He's—he's…"
"He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?"
"Obviously he's playing hide-and-seek. Which he is pretty damn good at," Elle continued before she pulled a cellphone out of a pocket from a pair of Dean's jeans. "Found it."
"Give it here," Dean groaned as he snatched his phone from Elle's hands.
Dean flipped open his cellphone and much to all the Winchester siblings surprise, there was a message from an Unavailable caller of "42, -89" Elle squinted to focus on the numbers before she took Dean's phone away from him but he quickly retrieved it from his little sister's paws. She had no idea what the numbers were, but Dean must have known right away because he walked over to Sam's laptop muttering something about coordinates. Elle groaned. If they really were coordinates, they could only be from one person: their father. Of all the times to get a text from him—John Winchester sure knew how to make an appearance. Elle plopped back onto her bed—she knew how this ended. They were going to have another job. She made herself comfortable against her pillows as she listened to Sam argue about how Dad could barely work a toaster. That reference made Elle smirk. When she was about twelve, her father had almost set the motel on fire from a toaster he had snitched from the office. Of course, John had blamed it on his youngest daughter rather than taking responsibility for his own actions; but the fact knowing that John Winchester was fallible brought her some comfort.
"So, where are we going?" Elle asked as she rested against her pillow with her hands behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.
"That's the interesting part," Dean started. "Rockford, Illinois."
"And how's that interesting?" Sam asked.
"Because that one guy we met that one time with the man boobs lives there," Elle said.
"And that matters because?"
"They were distracting."
"So we're going to Rockford for a guy's man boobs?"
"Close," Dean said shaking his head. "Take a look at this."
"That would involve getting up. How about you just tell us instead?" Elle groaned.
"Fine. So, there was this cop, Walter Kelly, he came home from his shift, shot his wife, then put the gun to his mouth, and blew his brains out."
"Definitely related to the man boobs."
"Anyway, earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."
"Okay, I'm not following," Sam sighed as he sat down on his bed. "What does this have to do with us and, Elle, if you say man boobs again I'm going to come over there and sit on you."
"Touchy, touchy," Elle muttered. "Dean piss in your Cheerios this morning?"
"It was actually his Wheaties," Dean quipped before answering Sam's question. "This has to be our kind of thing because Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let's see…" He paused for a moment as he flipped through the journal. "Here it is. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths—'til last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."
"This is a job?" Sam snorted. "Dad wants us to work a job."
"Well, maybe he wants us to meet up with him. Maybe he's already there?"
"Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing."
"Who cares? If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!"
"It's always been good enough for you," Elle groaned.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean hissed.
"Dad can do no wrong in your eyes, Dean. He's not the World's Greatest Dad, as that stupid, old coffee mug claims."
"But he's Dad which means he's family and—"
"You don't quit family; yeah, I know."
"Elle has a point, Dean," Sam sighed. "I mean, doesn't it strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?"
"You both better listen up because I'm only gonna say this once," Dean growled. "Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'."
"Already knew that," Elle muttered sarcastically.
Within an hour, the Winchesters were packed and on the road again, headed toward Rockford, Illinois. From the backseat, Elle popped another ibuprofen for the pain in her wrist. She wasn't sure how many she had taken so far, but she didn't really care how many pills it was—as long as the pain would subside. Elle then cuddled up with her stolen pillow and old stuffed Tigger before she fell asleep. When they rolled into Rockford, Dean stopped the Impala outside the police station.
"You two go on without me," Sam announced. "I have a phone call I wanna make."
"I'll wait for you," Dean said. "Besides, gotta hit the head anyway."
"Dean, we talked about this, just go with Elle and get this over with."
"Fine, let's go."
Dean groaned from the front seat as Elle was finishing slipping her blue Converse on her feet. Sam told them to have fun—but Elle wasn't so sure that he really had a phone call to make. Elle caught up to Dean on the sidewalk leading up to the building. As they walked, Elle threw her unruly hair up into a messy bun. Dean took a glance back at Sam before he turned around and shook his head.
"So, what's that about?" Elle asked.
"Sam seems to think that if you and me act like we did before he came back into the picture that you and I will—"Dean said stopping short.
"Will what?"
"Son-of-a-bitch, Elle. What? Do you think I have a friggin' road map to Sam's brain?"
"I didn't—"
"Let's just get this over with."
"That's what he said," Elle said with a smirk toward Dean who shook his head. "What? That's literally what Sam said."
"But the difference is you know the double connot—uh—meaning."
"Connotation too big of a word for you, Dean-o?"
"You can take your conno—friggin—tation and shove it where the sun don't shine."
Elle chuckled at her brother as he opened the door to the police station without saying anything. Normally, Dean would at least hold the door for her to grab it, but he didn't. She knew that things with Dean were going to continue to be complicated, but she didn't like dealing with him when he acted like a little bitch. Then again, making fun of him when he was in one of his moods definitely wasn't helping any—not to mention that she wasn't completely on his side when it came to Dad. Leave it to John Winchester to get in between his children. Dean stopped short of the front desk and asked about seeing on of the officers. The person at the desk said that she was new and went to go get someone else, leaving Elle and Dean standing there. Dean pulled out one of his fake ID badges as Elle scrambled to go through her pockets.
"Shit, I forgot my ID in the car," Elle muttered patting her pants pockets frantically.
"Damnit, Elle," Dean hissed as the lady walked up to greet them. "You've got to be shitting me."
"Does it look like I'm shitting you?"
"How can I help you two?" a woman, assumed to have some sort of desk job, asked.
"Well, go on, tell the lady," Dean scoffed as he pushed his sister toward the desk.
"We're looking for Daniel Gunderson," Elle said sweetly. "Could you direct us to him?"
"What do you want with him?" the woman asked.
"Don't be shy now," Elle said slapping Dean's arm which caused him to slightly wince and narrow his eyes at his sister.
"We're uh—his—uh-cousins," Dean said.
"You're Gunderson's cousins?" the woman scoffed.
"Very distant," Elle added. "You know—mother's father's cousin's fourth cousin three times removed type of thing. We were just doing an ancestry project and wanted to meet him."
"Well, honey, he hasn't been in for a while—nor is he going to be any time soon."
"You wouldn't happen to know where we could find him?" Dean asked.
"I can't give out personal information like that."
"Of course not to the general public," Elle added. "But to distant relatives concerned about his welfare."
"I shouldn't be sayin' this, but I suppose I can tell you the bar he's at most nights."
"That'll work."
The woman gave them the name of the bar Gunderson had been frequenting before Elle thanked the woman for her time. Elle then headed for the door with Dean, but she stopped for a moment to look at the plaques and pictures on the wall. As she scanned them, she looked for the name Gunderson and sure enough—she found him in a picture for the department softball team. Elle shook her head when she finally found their cousin.
"No wonder, she didn't believe us," Elle scoffed pointing to a picture. The man they were asking for, Gunderson, his skin tone was completely different than the Winchesters fairer tone.
"We have the same chin," Dean joked as he pressed his face close to the frame for Elle to examine. "One of our finer similarities, I might add."
"Shut up."
"I don't know how the lady didn't see the resemblance. Besides, you have his eyebrows."
"Of all the things to insult me about, you go for the eyebrows? Ass."
Elle rolled her eyes and walked away from Dean. She walked out the door of the police station and toward the Impala where Sam sat in the front seat leaning his head back and taking a nap. Some important phone call, huh? Elle slapped the front window on the passenger's side causing Sam to jerk upward. She glared at him for a moment and shook her head before she crawled in the back of the Impala. Normally, she'd call Sam out on the move he just pulled—but knowing that Sam was the only brother she was currently in good-standing with, Elle decided to refrain. Sam tossed Elle one of her fake IDs. Apparently, he found it outside the car on the asphalt. Elle snatched the ID back from him and shoved it in her pocket as Dean got in the car. Without even explaining anything to Sam, Dean drove to the bar the woman had told them that Gunderson frequented. He parked the car outside the bar before turning toward Sam while Elle was snuggling with her pillow and stuffed Tigger.
"Dean, what're we doing here?" Sam asked.
"It's five o'clock somewhere, right?" Dean joked.
"A little early still."
"It's where Gunderson usually spends his evenings," Elle said rolling her eyes toward Dean. "Speaking of whom—he's not due to show up for a couple of hours yet."
"There's no harm in checking the place out and hitting back a beer or two," Dean argued
"Count me out. I want a nap."
"Fine, Miss Priss—Sammy, you coming?"
"I—uh—"Sam started.
"I don't need your lame-ass excuses too. I'm going in. If either of you need me—well, just don't need me."
Dean took the keys from the ignition before he got out of the Impala and walked to the bar. Sam turned around and poked Elle's leg. She groaned but made no motion to open her eyes—so Sam took her Tigger from her which caused her bolt straight up. She blinked at him several times, but he didn't say anything—just continued to look at her.
"What?" Elle hissed.
"What'd you do to piss him off?" Sam questioned.
"Why does it have to be my fault? Ever think this might be your fault since you ditched us," Elle groaned. "Besides, he's been all moody since Dad's text."
"But you're not helping things."
"He's older. He should be the one acting more mature in this situation—not me."
"You do realize that you're both adults, right?"
"Hey—I'm barely legal…"
"You're twenty-one."
"To drink."
"We just need to get through this. So I'd appreciate a little more help on your end."
"Whatever."
Elle plopped back down onto her pillow, holding her injured wrist. The pain was beginning to come back again which made her wince. Of all the things to cause her this much pain—a stupid wrist. Elle took out her bottle of ibuprofen. She only popped the last pills into her mouth and looked inside the empty bottle. She didn't want to tell Sam or Dean how much pain she was in—she didn't want them thinking she wasn't capable of doing her job. Elle soon drifted back to sleep and was only awoken when Dean got back into the car—causing both Sam and Elle to jump awake from their naps.
"Two Sleeping Beauties for the price of one," Dean said shaking his head.
"You get what you need?" Sam asked as he stretched.
"You could say that."
"What's that supposed to mean man?"
"I came up with a plan for Gunderson—you know the case we're actually supposed to be working on instead of getting friggin' beauty sleep."
"What is it?" Elle asked.
"Well, I'm going to pretend to be an annoying—"
"Pretend? That shouldn't be too hard."
"Elle," Sam hissed giving her a knowing look.
"So anyway, I'm gonna pretend to be an annoying reporter then Sammy's gonna swoop in and save Gunderson. Then Gunderson should spill his guts—you know being a cop and all that honorable garbage crap," Dean said.
"And what am I going to do?" Elle asked.
"I got you a job," Dean announced.
"I already have one," Elle said. "Putting up with you."
"You and Sammy got me thinking about this real job thing a little ways back. So, Elle-Belle, you're gonna work here at the bar."
"No! No freaking way! Why don't you work at the bar? Why can't Sam work at the bar?"
"We weren't their type."
"Which was?"
"Busty. Apparently, mine aren't big enough. Which is complete crap because they're real."
"That still doesn't explain why I need a job at the bar."
"Because in case mine and Sam's plan fails, you'll be there undercover. Dudes always talk to the bartenders. It's like a way of life. Besides, you never know—he might be a good tipper. Not to mention it's about time you started earning some of the keep."
"But you make enough scamming and hustling."
"Elle, it's not a bad plan," Sam offered.
"Fine—I'll go along with it, like I always do, but don't expect me to like it," Elle said as she folded her arms across her chest defensively.
"Good, the manager is waiting for you inside—you start now," Dean said. "Nap time for me until then. See you later, Elle-Belle."
"You've got to be kidding me?"
"Nope and you might want to hurry. You don't want him to fire you before you've even started."
Dean rested his head back on his hands and looked over to Sam. Elle also looked to Sam—who only shrugged his shoulders. Damnit. She quickly looked at her appearance—it certainly wasn't worthy of a grown-up job. She was friggin' dressed in a white tank top, baggy grey sweatshirt, ripped up jeans, and socks with donuts on them. She decided on changing out her sweatshirt for one of her plaid shirts—despite the fact that he was supposed to be napping, Dean told her to drop a button, which she reluctantly did before she walked into the bar. As Elle entered the bar, she had her arms folded across her chest. The things she did for her brother—there was a guy at the bar who immediately took notice of her.
"You Eleanor?" the guy at the bar called.
"Uh—I go by Elle," Elle said not wanting to completely ruin whatever cover Dean had for her.
"Well, Elle, you'll do for now because I'm short staffed and it's not often people come in with all the training and licensing that they need."
Elle was pretty sure that bartending couldn't possibly be harder than ganking ghosts or exorcising demons, but Dean lied about her having all the licensing and training that she needed. The next few hours were a crash-course into tending the bar. There were so many drinks that Elle had never heard of before—mostly because real men only drink beer—or so was Dean's philosophy. Not to mention that she needed to know the difference between different liquors. She had originally thought she had a pretty decent understanding of alcohol but now that she thought about—she knew whatever drink Dean ordered for her. She was definitely keeping her cheat sheet after she was done with the job. Elle's brain was spinning by the time happy hour started. Brian, the bar manager had her wiping glasses behind the bar at the start of happy hour.
"Drop a button,"
"Another one?"
"If you wanna make big tips," the bar manager said before he walked away from the bar.
"I already have those," Elle said to herself as she grabbed at her boobs.
"He said tips—not tits," Dean whispered in her ear from behind.
"Damn you, Dean."
"Is that any way to treat your first customer?"
"What do you want?"
"Surprise me—with my favorite draft."
"Have a seat and I'll surprise you."
Elle shooed Dean away toward a table before she went back behind the bar to get Dean a drink. Although, she wasn't going to get him a draft—no, she was gonna mix different things together and embarrass him by putting a girlie umbrella in the drink. Elle poured a little of this, a splash of that, something old, something new—and most importantly something blue. She shook it up in the tumbler before she put it in a martini glass. She tossed a pink umbrella in it and called it good before she walked it over to Dean who sat at a table playing with the peanuts on the table. Elle set the martini glass on the table in front of him.
"This isn't what I ordered."
"No, it's better."
"What is this called?"
"It's a Screw You Dean," Elle retorted. "Made it myself."
"'Bout time I got a drink named after me," Dean said before he took a drink. After a sip, he spit the drink back into the glass. "Oh god, that's friggin' disgusting."
"Just like you. Perfect match."
"I'm not paying for this crap! I still want my beer!"
"You're just gonna have to wait your turn."
As Elle, made her way back to the bar, Daniel Gunderson sat down on stool. Elle asked him what he wanted. Thankfully, the man's order wasn't too difficult. All she had to do was open the bottle to his beer and set it front of him and she was golden. She gave the man a big smile before she brought Dean the beer he had asked for earlier. Elle smirked as she watched him drink his first sip hesitantly—he knew Elle well enough to think that she would pull something twice, but the joke was on him because she didn't actually mess with that drink. She then nodded her head toward the bar and Dean seemed to nod his knowingly. After that, she headed back to the bar and tried her best not to get fired. She tried her best to remember to keep a flirty attitude—but she was dreadfully horrible at flirting. Or at least she assumed she was since she really had no idea what it meant to be flirty, but for some reason guys usually bought her act—however, this time, Elle decided to go another route. She was going to play the pity card on these guys—because if there was one thing she was sure of—compared to a normal innocent, her life sucked. A guy sat down at the bar and waved at Elle—so she walked over to him. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and oddly attractive in an older guy sort of way—not that he was necessarily old.
"Hi," was all Elle greeted. She mentally kicked herself for giving such a dumb greeting.
"I don't think I've seen you around here before," a man said.
"No, sir—I'm new in town," Elle said with a smile—remembering the ruse she was playing.
"Well, welcome to town—Elle," the man said leaning forward a bit to read Elle's paper nametag with her name written in Sharpie. "What brings you here?"
"I—uh—I have two brothers I need to support. Mom died awhile back and Dad walked out on us. Just the three of us against the world."
The man seemed to eat up her every word. Although, she did make is sound like she was trying to support Sam and Dean, but what the man didn't know didn't hurt him. In the corner of her eye, Elle watched Dean approach Gunderson. The interaction didn't go well—as intended—and then Sam came in and saved the guy: just as they had planned. Although, Elle couldn't help but laugh at how hard Sam pushed Dean away. The little twerp deserved it. Sam then asked Elle for two beers—one for him and one for Gunderson. Apparently, Gunderson was quickly falling for Sam's charm because when Elle came over with the beers they were already talking about the asylum. Elle walked back over to the man she had told her sob story to and leaned over the bar.
"You wouldn't mind helping a girl out, would ya?" Elle asked, attempting to thickly lay on the charm while assuming she was failing miserably. "I couldn't help but overhear the conversation over there." Elle pointed to Sam and Gunderson. "What's this asylum that they're talking about?"
"The old Roosevelt Asylum is my guess," the man said before taking a swig of his beer. "Been closed for years. Mainly abandoned aside from the teenagers that try to slip through. But there's a chain blocking them from getting in."
"Sounds like you know quite a bit about the place."
"Only what a drunk teenager would know."
"So you've been there?"
"Yeah, years ago, but like I said—we were met with iron chains locking the south wing so we couldn't get in."
"Iron chains," Elle mused quietly. "Wonder if that means something."
"It means that the police don't like kids trespassing."
"Right—so you know anything else about the old place?"
"Why are you so damn curious about it?"
"I—I just like to be aware of my surroundings. Kinda superstitious—y' know?"
"Yeah, well, I couldn't tell you much anyway. What I know about the place came from my daddy who was a lousy drunk and couldn't tell you his own name on a good day."
"Sorry for bringing it up," Elle apologized with a slight frown before she continued the conversation to somewhat save face. "So, is there anything good in town to do?"
The man grinned from behind his beer bottle. Elle didn't really care, but she felt somewhat guilty for bringing up the guy's lousy past. So, she sat and listened to him—at least he tipped well. Her biggest tip of the night. When Elle finally got off work, both Sam and Dean were in the car waiting for her. At least Dean didn't leave her there. She practically collapsed on the backseat before she listened to Sam go into detail about everything Gunderson had told him. Dean on the other hand put out his hand to see how much money Elle had made. The pity card seemed to work on most of her customers—because she actually made a decent amount of money. Or so she thought. But it seemed like everything about this case was leading them to actually going to the Roosevelt Asylum. Dean wanted to go right then and there, but there was no way Elle was in the mood for that. She really hoped that Sam would back her up on this one.
"We go tomorrow morning because right now my feet are killing me," Elle whined.
"You poor baby," Dean mocked.
"Hey, while you got to sit down knocking back a few, I was on my feet all night having to interact with people. Right now, I would be okay if people just disappeared for a couple hours so I could have a few moments to myself. But no, I'm going to be stuck with you two in an old motel room with no privacy or time to recharge. God, sometimes being an introvert sucks!"
"Shoulda gotten Duracell. That damn bunny can go all night long."
Sam cracked up at this to which Elle responded by rolling her eyes.
"Please? Morning?" Elle asked.
"She does make a good point. Besides, then we won't have any annoying teenagers trying to break-in," Sam added.
"Fine, but that means you're getting the rollaway bed," Dean said looking straight at Elle.
"But, Dean—"Elle groaned.
"Sounds like she's really wanting to go tonight, Sammy."
"Fine. I'll hate you forever, but fine."
Dean turned back and smirked at his little sister before he put the Impala into drive, leaving the bar in the rearview mirror. When they arrived at the motel, Elle did a little running jump before plopping on the rollaway bed. She was none-too-happy about being forced to the extra bed, but then again, she was too damn tired and sore to put up much of a fight. Her fight consisted of calling Dean a loser before she covered herself with the blankets. Dean turned on the television before she quickly fell asleep to the dull drone of voices from some sort of procedural cop show.
Early the next morning, the Winchesters headed to the Roosevelt Asylum. Thankfully, they stopped for some breakfast before heading over there. Elle bought a cup of hot chocolate and a sour cream doughnut, which she finished in the backseat of the Impala as Dean drove them to the abandoned place. Dean parked the car outside the perimeter of the place. They would have to walk the rest of the way. The place was guarded by a tall chain-linked fence which Sam and Dean easily climbed up the thing and made it over to the other side. This was the part of the job that Elle hadn't fully mastered yet.
"Guys, a little help?" Elle groaned still on the other side of the fence.
"Just climb it," Dean scoffed. "Do you need me to explain the process to you?"
Elle climbed a little ways before her wrist started giving her trouble, causing her foot to slip, and she fell flat on her ass. For a moment, she just sat there in slight pain while her brothers laughed. She slowly stood up rubbing her rear-end, which Dean couldn't help but laugh even harder about—Elle was pretty sure there was a joke about breaking her ass in there.
"It's not funny. Unlike you two—I didn't inherit the giant monkey gene."
"Would you just hurry up already?"
"How about one of you two comes back over and gives me a boost?"
Elle looked over at her brothers. She knew that she was probably more than capable of getting over the fence—if she actually tried and her feet weren't so sore; but if there was one thing she knew how to do—it was manipulate her brothers. She looked to them with her sad puppy eyes and to Elle's surprise, Sam actually agreed with her. Dean told him to go do it, but Sam held out his hand for a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Dean lost as usual, meaning that he had to climb back over the fence and boost Elle on his shoulders, which he was not too happy about. Elle barely could reach the top of the fence, even with Dean's help, but she slowly started to pull herself up.
"You need to start working on your upper body strength, because this is pathetic," Dean grunted from beneath her.
"I thought pathetic was my middle name?" Elle retorted.
"Campbell Pathetic Winchester, just move your friggin' ass."
"I'm going. I'm going."
Elle finally reached the top of the fence before she carefully swung her legs around to the other side. She attempted to climb back down when Dean started climbing up which made her lose her grip on the fence. Thankfully, Sam was there to catch her. Sometimes, Elle didn't know what she'd do without her brothers; but for some reason, it always ended up being the stupid and pathetic—things that a normal person should be able to do on their own. Dean simply jumped from the top of the fence to the ground as Sam set his little sister back onto her feet. She was careful to ignore the look from Dean before they headed into the Asylum. Dean opened the door before he motioned with his head for Sam and Elle to follow behind him. From first glance, it was quite obvious that despite the police's best efforts, it seemed to be a place that often got tagged with graffiti or people simply leaving their mark on the place.
"So bar guy said…" Elle started.
"Bar guy?" Dean interrupted.
"Sam's not the only one capable of getting information. Anyway, bar guy said that there were chains blocking the south wing."
"Yeah—the south wing is where the cops chased the kids," Sam said before he stopped and pointed his flashlight up at a sign. "And it's right here."
"South wing, huh?" Dean said. "Wait a second…" he took out their father's journal and began flipping through the pages. "South wing…south wing…1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."
"Fun," Elle said sarcastically.
"Not exactly my definition of the word," Sam started. "But whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it."
"Say it is—if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.
"Bar guy answered that too," Elle said pointing the flashlight at the broken chains.
"Probably been chained up for years," Sam added.
"Yeah, to keep people out," Dean scoffed.
"Or to keep something in," Elle stated picking up the chains. "They're iron. They might not have even known they were doing it."
"Or maybe they did. Either way, ladies first."
Dean smirked as he slowly opened the door and motioned for Elle to go first. Elle rolled her eyes at Dean before she pushed Sam forward and followed him down the hallway.
"That works," Dean chuckled before he followed his younger siblings. He eventually caught up with them and walked in between them holding onto his meter to check for anything off kilter. He turned to Sam and smirked. "Lemme know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel."
"Dude, enough," Sam groaned.
"He does have a point," Elle added. "Aren't ghosts attracted to that whole ESPN thing?"
"You do realize that ESPN is a sports network, right?"
"Sheesh! Can't a girl make a joke without someone thinking she's a complete idiot?"
"You really want an answer to that?" Dean asked.
"Not from you."
"Your loss," Dean said with a shrug. "But what I think Elle-Belle means is that you gotta be careful with the ESP thing."
"How many times do I have to tell the two of you? It's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams. That's all."
"Whatever man; don't ask, don't tell."
"Are you even getting a reading on that thing?" Elle asked as she attempted to snatch the meter from Dean.
"Hey—hey—hey, get your grubby paws off. And for your information, no, I'm not getting anything. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home."
"Sometimes, spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day," Sam added.
"If they even follow their own freaking rules," Elle groaned. "Things would be much easier if they did."
"You know that the freaks always come out at night," Dean added.
"Yeah," Sam grunted.
"Of course they do," Elle sighed.
Sam rustled Elle's hair before the Winchesters moved to a different room in the asylum. Elle led the way as Dean cracked another joke about Sam being psychic, which she decided to remain out of this time. She opened a door to a different room but she didn't go in right away. She knew the place had closed in the '60s meaning that cruel, inhumane, and almost barbaric things were done to people who couldn't prove to be completely mentally competent.
"This is my kind of room," Dean said from behind Elle before he pushed past her and into the room.
"You do realize what kind of torture was done in here, right?" Elle asked as she stayed in the threshold to the room, leaning against the doorframe.
"Yeah—electro-shock, lobotomies, and other pretty twisted things. I do have both beauty and brains, Elle-Belle."
"Then why do you sound so excited about it?"
"Because it's kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest," Dean said with a grin and crazy eyes.
"You do realize that the movie's based on a book, right?"
"Who cares; my man Jack is in it."
"Moving on from Dean's man Jack," Elle started with a roll of her eyes. "Sam, what do you think going on? Ghosts possessing people?"
"Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting," Sam suggested.
"Spirits driving them insane? Nice. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining," Dean grinned.
"Will you shut up about Jack?" Elle groaned. "Otherwise I swear to god that I will murder you in your sleep."
"Touchy, touchy."
"Dean!"
"Leave her alone," Sam said shaking his head. "Besides, I think there's something else we need to talk about."
"Like what?" Dean asked.
"Like the fact that Dad's not here."
"Oh, I see how it is. I can't annoy Elle, but you can annoy me? Well, here's my answer: how 'bout…never."
"I'm being serious, man. He sent us here…"
"Honestly, it doesn't really surprise me that he just dumped us here. It's kinda what he's good at," Elle added.
"I'm sick of doing this with you two," Dean growled. "Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll just pick up the search later."
"It doesn't matter what he wants," Sam argued. "He should be here."
"Sam, it's always been about what John Winchester wants and we've just been playing his game our entire lives," Elle said.
"Both of you have piss-poor attitudes when it comes to Dad," Dean said shaking his head. "And that right there is why I always got the extra cookie."
"You do realize that Dad could be in trouble, right? We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers," Sam argued.
"I agree with that last statement whole-heartedly," Elle muttered.
"Dean, I mean this is our family we're talking about."
"I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order," Dean stated.
"So what? We gotta always follow Dad's orders?"
"Of course we do."
"God forbid the world would end if we didn't," Elle said sarcastically.
"Considering you're hiding something about Dad, you might wanna keep your mouth shut from here on out. And Sammy, you have your family right here. Sure she whines and bitches and my good looks are overwhelming, but at the end of the day we're still family."
"I do not…" Elle started.
"Remember? Mouth. Shut. At least for a minute so I can think."
Elle maturely stuck her tongue out at her brother as he continued to look around the room and examine it. Sam simply shrugged at her and motioned with his head for her to come in further to help them look for something, anything useful to the case. The place wasn't exactly sanitary or up-to-code anymore, not that it ever was. People probably turned a blind eye to what used to happen here; which was probably the root of their problem, whatever it that problem might be. Elle walked to a desk and found a nameplate which she picked up and blew on. The dust came back in her face which caused her to cough.
"Thank you," Dean grumbled as he snatched the plate from Elle's hands while she coughed. "Sanford Ellicott."
"That's something," Sam offered.
"you know what this means. We gotta find out more about the south wing. See if something happened here."
"By we, you mean Sam and I, right?" Elle wheezed. "Unless your friend Jack made a movie about what happened."
"You know me so well, little sister."
"So why don't we go back to the motel and see if we can find any information on this Dr. Ellicott or maybe someone related to him?" Sam suggested.
When they got back to the motel, Elle didn't immediately follow the boys inside. Instead, she said that she had forgotten something in the trunk and said she'd be there in a minute. Truth was, she didn't really forget anything, she just hoped that somehow, if there was a God, that there was still an ibuprofen mixed in the rock salt from when Dean was being a bitch. Thankfully, there were a few left. She just hoped that maybe the extra salt would give the medicine some extra healing power. She slammed the trunk shut, but with her bad wrist, which caused her to wince. The past few days, she was seemingly reminded more and more of how normal and ordinary she was in a supernatural world. Hell, in her current condition, she probably wouldn't last very long without Sam and Dean—or so she thought. She was barely back inside the motel room when Sam said he found a guy named Dr. James Ellicott who was practicing clinical psychiatry. For a moment, hope flickered in Elle's eyes.
"Is it the psychiatrist or the the psychologist that can prescribe drugs?" Elle asked.
"Psychiatrist," Sam answered as he scribbled an address on to a piece of paper.
"I can never remember. Not that I'll ever be seeing either," Elle tried to cover her true intentions.
"Well, one of us has to."
"One…two…three…not it!"
Elle immediately brought her finger to her nose. Dean also pressed the tip of his finger against his nose before he picked it. Sam was left there looking at his siblings—who both pointed out that he was going to be the one to see the psychiatrist. Besides, it had to be Sam. Dean would never step five feet within the office and Elle had other plans that involved the good doctor being distracted…by Sam. Sam shook his head before he called Dr. Ellicott's office to make an appointment. As luck would have it, the doctor had somebody cancel last minute meaning Sam's appointment was at three o'clock. Dean suggested that they get some lunch before then, so they headed to a little diner down the street. Dean got his usual bacon burger and fries, Sam got a salad, and Elle got some chicken tenders and fries with a chocolate shake.
A little before three, the Winchesters pulled up outside of Dr. Ellicott's practice. Dean wished Sam luck before the tallest Winchester got out of the Impala and headed inside the clinic, leaving Elle and Dean outside. For the most part, they just sat in the car, not talking, and listening to Dean's music. Dean had a couple of air drum solos while Elle sat in the back rereading one of the books she had carelessly thrown on the floor. She checked her cellphone for the time. Sam had been in there a while, but it was now or never if her plan was going to work. Elle leaned her face forward onto the front seat.
"One of us should go check on him," Elle said.
"It's not gonna be me. I'm already too close to this place," Dean said.
"Fine, I'll go in and while I'm at it I need to use the bathroom."
"Are you gonna go or are you gonna go into detail about what you're going to do in the bathroom?"
"Would you like me to? I'll take your silence as a no."
"Good guess."
"Hey, you're the one who wants me to be honest."
"About Dad not your bowel movements."
"Would it make you feel better if my reason for the bathroom isn't a bowel movement?"
"Just go."
"I will."
Elle walked into the clinic only to find that the working bathrooms weren't easily accessible. One had to use the ones in the office part of the clinic. Which only worked out better for her plan. There was a dinging sound, notifying the receptionist of her arrival as Elle walked up to the desk where she met a woman who looked somewhat busy on her computer.
"Hey, I'm Elle Winchester. My brother Sam is seeing Dr. Ellicott. I was just gonna wait in the car for him but I really need to use the bathroom…" Elle started.
"That bathroom is for patients only," the receptionist said.
"Please? It's that time of the month and my brothers don't understand why I need to stop and go to the bathroom every couple hours or why I devour anything chocolate in sight."
"My brothers used to do the same thing, honey. Go on ahead. It's around the corner and the second door on your left."
"Thank you so much. You're a life saver."
So far, her ruse was working. Elle walked around the corner and went exactly where the receptionist told her to go. What made things even better was that Dr. Ellicott's office was across the hall from the bathroom. She should have no problem with her plan—although it was highly illegal, but she needed to do this if she wanted to be back on top of things. Elle locked the bathroom door. She was in there no more than a couple of minutes when she heard Sam's voice thanking Ellicott for his time. Elle thanked her lucky stars that Ellicott offered to walk Sam back to the front…meaning that her window of opportunity was small. She listened to the footsteps begin to fade before she flung open the bathroom door and ran across the hall to Ellicott's office. The place was fairly tidy making it easy to find where he kept his prescription pad. Her gut told her that this was wrong, but she was already too far to do anything about it. She then searched the room for the man's signature somewhere. Out of the three Winchesters, she was the best at forgery—not exactly something one should be proud of; but her father even needed use of her skills a time or two. She studied the man's signature for a few seconds before she prescribed herself some Vicodin for the pain in her wrist, careful to get his signature just right. She then tore the prescription from the pad and stuffed it in her pocket as she heard his voice beginning to get a little closer. Elle then ran from the office and stood outside of it for only a few seconds when Ellicott looked at her curiously.
"Can I help you?" Dr. Ellicott asked.
"My brother Sam was just in here? I had to use the bathroom and well now your office is empty and…" Elle began to ramble.
"He just left."
"Oops, well thanks! Bye!"
Elle tripped over the shoelaces of her untied Converse. It was a good thing that the wall was there to break her fall. She checked her pocket to make sure that the prescription paper was still safely stowed away before she left the clinic. The receptionist waved goodbye, so Elle returned the favor before she quickly walked outside to where her brothers were outside leaning against the car.
"So much for no bowel movement," Dean teased. "I just hope those people don't die from your toxic waste."
"So what'd I miss about your visit with Ellicott?" Elle asked completely avoiding Dean's comment.
"Nothing—he wanted to wait for you."
"Aww, such a good big brother. I've trained you well."
"Anytime now, Grandpa. What the hell were you talking about?"
"Just the hospital and the south wing," Sam said with a shrug.
"And?" Elle and Dean asked simultaneously.
"It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane."
"Sounds cozy," Dean said sarcastically.
"Probably where they'd keep us," Elle added.
"Yeah, well one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked the staff. Attacked each other," Sam continued.
"So the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.
"Apparently."
"Were there any deaths?" Elle asked.
"Some patients and staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff Ellicott."
"What do you mean, never recovered?" Dean asked.
"It means exactly that. The cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've…stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden."
"That's grim."
"Tell me about it. So they transferred the remaining patients and closed down the hospital."
"So, let me get this straight—we've got a bunch of violent deaths and unrecovered bodies?"
"And a bunch of angry spirits."
"This just screams good times," Elle said sarcastically.
"Well, I know where we'll be tonight."
Once again, the Winchesters found themselves back at the motel waiting for the sun to finally go down. While Sam and Dean relaxed a bit, Elle snuck off to the closest pharmacy she could find. She walked up to the counter and handed them the prescription for the Vicodin. They didn't even question the validity—they simply told her to have a seat while they filled her order. This place wasn't as strict as some places were with Vicodin, especially given the addictive nature of the drug. But Elle knew that she needed it to numb the pain…just for a while. She paid for the medicine with some credit card Dean had scammed off of some guy in Mexico before she walked outside. She opened the bottle and took one pill out before she popped it into her mouth. By the time Elle got back to the motel, she found herself quite drowsy, but at least the pain was almost non-existent. She fell onto her bed and quickly fell asleep for a nap. She felt like she had slept no more than five minutes when Dean woke her back up.
"Elle we need to go," Dean said.
"I can't—I have to work," Elle said with a yawn.
"Yeah—on the case."
"No, I told Brian I would cover tonight at the bar for some chick whose name I don't remember."
"You do realize that's not your real job, right?"
"You do realize that you're the one who went out and got me a real job, right?"
"Are you coming or not?"
"Not…this time."
"Unbelievable."
"I'm sure you and Sam will do just fine without me. Besides, I've been getting in the way a lot recently and if you really need me you can always just text me."
"If I die tonight my ass is coming back and haunting yours for eternity and beyond."
"I think it's to infinity and beyond. You know, 'Toy Story'."
Dean shook his head, although, Elle was pretty sure that somewhere along the line she had forced him to watch it despite his protests. But she looked at her phone and knew that she had to get down to the bar for her shift. She felt kinda bad for ditching her brothers, but she wanted to prove a point to Dean. If he was going to mess with her life, well it would eventually catch-up with him and mess with his life. When she got to the bar, Brian put her right to work. Gunderson was there with his brew as was bar guy from the night before. Actually, Elle recognized most of these guys from the night before—they must be the regulars. As Elle worked, she kept texting her brothers to see what was going on, but their responses were rare. She knew that she should be there with them, but she wasn't because she was being stubborn. Her last text from Sam said that there were two teenagers in the asylum, but other than that it felt like radio silence, which was driving her crazy. Crazy to the point that she broke a few glasses which seemed to piss Brian off. Her phone began buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out expecting to see a text—but instead it was a phone call from Sam. Elle ducked behind the counter and sat on the floor to take the call.
"Elle!"
"Sam?"
"You gotta get down here right now."
"You and Dean afraid of the dark?"
"Elle, I'm serious. Something's not right here and I can't find Dean."
"Dean's missing?"
"Just hurry."
Elle hung up her phone and swallowed slowly. Now the guilt was really beginning to set it. So much for showing Dean a thing or two. She slowly stood up to find herself face to face with her boss-type-person. He asked her what she was doing and for a few seconds she fumbled to find a decent excuse…but then she remembered one word: family. Her family needed her and that was all that mattered. It didn't matter that her and Dean's relationship wasn't perfect because honestly, it never had been. He needed her and that was all it took.
"Brian, I'm sorry to do this to you, but my brothers really need me. Family first," Elle said.
"You walk out that door and you're done," Brian said.
"Then consider this my letter of resignation or whatever the hell it is you're supposed to turn in."
Elle took the tips she had made and shoved them down her bra just in case Brian tried anything. She then headed for the door, but stopped for a moment to tie her shoe just behind bar guy.
"Damnit, it's going to take me forever to walk," Elle muttered.
"Take mine," bar guy from the night before said holding out his keys. "I'm gonna be here a while."
"Thanks," Elle said as she caught his keys. "I will try and get it back in one piece."
It took Elle a few tries before she found the man's old Ford pickup truck. She quickly started the truck before she drove out to the Roosevelt Asylum, the entire time hoping that she wasn't too late. There was no way she wanted Dean's ass haunting her for eternity. She rubbed absently at her wrist. It didn't even hurt, but it must have been routine by this point to rub it. Elle drove the truck as close as she could to the asylum, which ended up being beside the Impala. She put the truck in park before she picked the lock to the trunk of the Impala to get some supplies. She saw that the container of salt was gone, but she knew that she kept an extra in her bag which was in the backseat. She also grabbed a Zippo lighter and an iron rod. She needed to be prepared for getting Dean back and potentially Sam. Finally, with her bag swung across her shoulders and an iron rod in her hand, Elle ran inside the asylum. Getting inside was actually quite easy, but she wasn't prepared for the doors to slam shut behind here. She pulled at the doors but they wouldn't budge.
"That can't be good," Elle muttered.
Either they had to finish this thing or wait for morning to get out. Finishing the thing was going to be the easier option. Elle slowly continued toward the south wing with a flashlight in one hand and the iron rod in the other. Once again, as she found the south wing, the door was easy to open but it slammed shut behind her. She cursed under her breath for not thinking of getting something as a door stop. Elle looked in every room that she could find. After she had looked in about half a dozen rooms, the sound of a gun fired and something nailed Elle in the leg and it hurt like hell.
"Fuck! That hurt! Dean, if that's you I'm going to murder you after you're already dead!"
Two teenagers poked their heads out from behind the doorframe. They both looked so innocent and so terrified… Elle somewhat regretted swearing at them, but it really hurt. Elle slowly limped toward them but the girl held the gun up again. The Winchester girl groaned and stopped putting her hands up in defense.
"You—You said you know Dean?" the girl stammered.
"And Sam, they're my brothers," Elle responded. "And a gun filled with salt rounds isn't going to kill me because I'm human, so can you please lower it."
"How did you know it was filled with salt?" the boy asked.
"Because I'm the one that loaded it this afternoon. Now where are my brothers?"
"The basement," the girl answered. "But it was weird though…Sam said he got a phone call from Dean that he needed help. But when Dean came back, he said he never made a phone call."
"Wait, you saw Dean after Sam went to the basement?"
"Yeah, and then Dean went to the basement. And there was this thing about Room 137."
"Meaning that whatever piece of shit is doing this, is in the basement. Of course, it always has to be the creepy basement. Why can't they ever haunt a candy store?"
"It would be sweeter…get it, sweeter?" the boy chuckled.
"Well, you two just stay here and shoot at anything that isn't human. If I'm not back in say—forty-five minutes, well, just hope that I'm back by then with my brothers by then."
Elle started to walk away from them when the girl called out to her.
"You never told us your name!"
Elle turned around and stared at the girl for a moment. Why the hell was her name important?
"You know, just in case something happens."
"Elle, my name is Elle."
"I'm Kat by the way."
"I'd say it was nice to meet you, but given the circumstances…"
"Yeah."
Elle simply nodded her head as the boy stared dumbfounded at her as she trekked toward the basement stairs. When she finally found the stairs she proceeded with extreme caution, unsure of what was around every corner. Elle found a room that looked in complete and utter shambles, not to mention that the dust looked rather fresh. She stepped inside and noted that there was an entrance to another room. She kept herself to the edge of the wall before she poked her head around the corner. She saw Sam with a gun pointed at Dean who was lying in the fetal position on the floor. Dean must have noticed her because his eyes widened for a second, but Elle quickly hid back behind the wall and counted to five when Dean started talking.
"We gotta burn Ellicott's bones which are right over here in this cabinet and this will all be over and you'll be back to normal."
She was pretty sure that Dean was saying this more for her benefit than for Sam's because in one sentence she knew three things. Ellicott was the spirit haunting the place, his bones were in that room, and he was possessing Sam. Elle was about to go barging in there when Sam began to talk in a voice that didn't sound completely like his.
"I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? I don't want to be here. Elle certainly doesn't want to be chasing after Dad. But no. You're following Daddy's orders like a good little soldier. Because you always do what he says without question. Are you that desperate for his approval? Are you that pathetic?"
"Well, if you hate me so much go ahead and pull that trigger. Do it!"
Elle slowly inched inside the room. Sam or whoever was busy possessing Sam was too busy pulling the trigger to notice her sneaking up from behind.
"Sammy, I'm really sorry about this," Elle muttered before she attempted gently hit Sam over the head enough with her iron rod to knock him out. "That's probably gonna hurt for a while."
"Well, he needed a time-out for his attitude and don't think I wouldn't do the same to you. Now come on, we got a body to salt and burn," Dean said.
Dean pulled the curtains of the cupboard open and gagged at the sight of Ellicott's mummified corpse. Elle too covered her mouth and nose from the smell. Dean began pouring piles of salt over the bones with his jacket covering his mouth and nose from the stench. There was a rustling from behind which caused Elle to turn around as Dean poured kerosene over the body.
"Did you hear that?" Elle asked Dean.
"Hear what?" Dean questioned.
"I don't know. I thought…"
Elle stepped back out from behind the curtain and in that moment Dean was knocked to the floor by a gurney that came flying across the room. Elle's eyes widened as she saw Dr. Ellicott…or what she assumed was Dr. Ellicott grab Dean's face before his hands lit up light like lights on a Christmas tree. Elle knew it was probably jolts of electricity running through Dean's body but there was only one thing she could do to end it. She knew it had to be here when she saw Dean's lighter out of his reach.
"Hey, you piece of shit!" Elle taunted. "You ever play golf? Because I'm about to get a hole in one!"
Ellicott's face turned to look at her as Elle lit her Zippo lighter before she tossed it past Dean and spirit Ellicott and it landed almost perfectly on the corpse. Almost immediately, the thing burst into flames. Ellicott released Dean who crawled over to where his sister stood. The two Winchesters watched as Ellicott's ghost turned black and then fell to the ground, crumbling on impact.
"You came Elly-Belly," Dean said hoarsely.
"Yeah. You were right about one thing earlier—we're family. You might piss me off and drive me crazy ninety percent of the time, but you and Sam are the only family I can actually stand. And not to kick you while you're down, but if you call me 'Elly-Belly' again, I'm going to kick you in the balls."
"Looks like we wait for Sleeping Beauty now."
Dean and Elle sat beside an unconscious Sam for a few minutes before he began to slowly wake up. He looked in confusion between his two siblings as he propped himself up on his elbows.
"When the hell did you get here?" Sam asked Elle.
"Sometime after you got hijacked by Ellicott and before I knocked you out," Elle responded.
"Speaking of—you're not gonna try and kill me again, are you?" Dean asked.
"No," Sam said sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.
"Good. Because that would be awkward, not to mention that you made Elle a little jealous."
"Can we just get the hell out of here?" Elle asked. "My bed is speaking to me. It's saying 'Come to me, Elle. Sleep on me, Elle.'"
"You hear some weird shit, but let's go."
The three Winchesters found Gavin and Kat waiting for them right where Elle had left them. Elle was careful to call out to them that they were coming. Thankfully, her Vicodin hadn't worn off too much. So beyond the initial pain, she hadn't felt much of it actually. The five of them left the asylum and found the early morning light beginning to break across the sky. Elle wanted nothing more than to crawl in her bed, but the sight of the truck she had borrowed caused her to groan slightly. However, she could see Kat was reluctant to get in Gavin's car. It was then she had an idea.
"Hey, Kat," Elle called.
"Yeah?"
"You wanna take this truck back into town?"
"For sure."
"I can give you a ride," Gavin pleaded.
"After the hell you just put me through, you'll be lucky if I even want to speak to you again."
Elle tossed the teenage girl the keys before she told her where to drop it off. Elle then crawled into the back of the Impala where she found her pillow and Tigger welcoming her as her brothers had some sort of moment outside the car. Elle had just gotten comfortable when Dean got inside the car followed by Sam. Apparently, they were going to head back to the hotel to sleep it off before hitting the road once again.
Once at the motel, Elle raced Dean inside for his bed—and she won. She relished in the victory of forcing Dean to the rollaway bed she had been on. She had a good night's rest in the bigger bed as she sprawled out on it so that she took up practically the entire bed. In the morning, when she awoke, her wrist was giving her slight pain. She needed it…a pill… but she didn't want Sam or Dean to know, so she grabbed the bottle and headed for the bathroom. She splashed her face with cool water before she opened the pill bottle. Elle examined her appearance in the mirror and then popped another Vicodin into her mouth before taking a swig of water out of the sink by simply putting her mouth underneath the faucet. She wiped at her mouth before she slowly headed back into the main room. As she walked toward the beds, the cellphone on the bedside table began to ring. Dean didn't move. Sam opened an eye to see his sister standing at the end of her bed.
"Elle, get the phone," Sam groaned.
"No, you're closer," Elle groaned back.
"You're actually up."
"Saaammmmmyyyyy."
"Fine."
Sam picked up the phone and answered it. Not two seconds later did he jolt straight up in bed saying the one word Elle was not expecting to hear this early in the morning: Dad.
Author's Note: So sorry for the near month-long delay! Hit a bit of a block, but I did manage to get some other scenes for future seasons blocked out. Anyway, sorry I know this isn't my best work (I know I say that a lot but I do feel somewhat bad) BUT the need to get something out to you outweighs the fact that I might think it's crap. Lol. Thanks again, to all of you who have read/reviewed/followed. We're almost to 100 follows, which is mind-blowing for me. Never woulda thought the SPN fandom would be so welcoming to little ol' me, so thanks! Also, we had the 200th episode during my hiatus! And I couldn't help but picture what Elle would be doing. She's in it for me now! Dangit! Lol. Also—may or may not be obsessed with the song "Hanging Tree" from Mockingjay.
P.S. You're always welcome to check out my tumblr, ask questions, submit stuff—it's neat getting to interact with ya'll.