Us Against the World

By January Lily

And I can't make it go away

Chapter 26: Child of Innocence

*FYI this chapter takes the place of Bloodlust and Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things*

Thud. Elle Winchester woke up quite startled to find herself lying on the floor. She rubbed at her face as her heart rate began to settle and her eyes adjusted to the darkness. It took her a moment to remember that neither Sam nor Dean were there with her. No, she had let them go back to Bobby's without her, leaving her at the Harvelle's Roadhouse Saloon with people she barely knew. That was probably either the stupidest or the smartest thing she had ever done. Time would tell what kind of decision she had made, but for right now she needed to focus her attention on getting back into bed since she had rolled off it. Slowly, Elle pushed herself up and climbed back onto the bed Elle was allowing her to claim for the time being. The rain gently pattered against the window, keeping Elle awake with her thoughts. Thoughts of her brothers, Tommy, Bobby…with a sigh she rolled onto her side and grabbed her cellphone. She unanswered text messages from Sam, Tommy, and Bobby—but none from Dean. She wasn't sure whether that surprised her or not, but she set her phone back down before snuggling under her blankets once more.

Elle's thoughts continued to flashback to her father. Her heart hurt as she thought of her last words to him. Why couldn't she just not have said them? Why couldn't she just have finished it with a just kidding? Why? Why? Why? That was when the tears started again. Damnit. Was she ever going to be able to think about John Winchester without crying? Out of pure frustration with herself she let out a scream and began pulling at her hair and kicking. A few moments later, Ellen came running into her room with a gun at the ready. When the older woman noticed that it was just Elle, she set the gun down on a desk in the room and slowly walked toward the Winchester girl. Ellen sat down on Elle's bed and the young girl quickly began muttering her apologies for waking her up. Elle looked up at the woman unsure of how to react, but she found the older woman gently smiling. Ellen reached for Elle's hand and patted it.

"Honey, this is the third night in a row you've done this," Ellen said softly. "I'm not as young as you and I need my beauty sleep to put up with some of the rowdier folk that come through here."

"I'm sorry," Elle sniffled before she wrapped her arms around her legs. She hated being an inconvenience to people. That was the last thing she wanted to be to Ellen after she had agreed to let her stay here for free. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Yes, it will. It'll keep happening until you figure out how to keep on living." Ellen's words hit her hard. This was never going to stop. The guilt she felt from what she said to her father—it wasn't going to magically go away. No, she was going to be stuck living the rest of her life like this. She was going to be nothing more than a shell of her former self and there was nothing she could do about it. Elle's chest began to heave.

"I can't. Not after what I said."

"You can and you will. Just gotta start with something small, Elle." Ellen reached out and placed her hand on Elle's shoulder to try and calm her. Elle's eyes met Ellen's and she began to slow her breathing while tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Like what?"

"Like you haven't left this room in three days except for meals. Why don't you come help me out at the Roadhouse?"

"I don't really know much about working at a saloon…except making a Screw-You-Dean." A smile began to spread across Elle's lips. She couldn't help it as she thought back to the case where he made her go undercover at a bar. It was his own damn fault for ordering a drink from her. But if Dean couldn't stomach the thing, then it had to be pretty bad.

"Is that a smile I see?" Elle blushed as Ellen leaned forward with a smile on her face and gently tapped Elle's cheek.

"You'll learn. You seem like you're a fast learner, honey. Now, it's three in the morning and I want some sleep. I'll have Jo swing by in the morning to wake you up."

Ellen gently smiled at the young woman before she stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Elle alone with her thoughts again. It took her quite a bit of time to actually fall back asleep and it seemed like she had only been asleep for five minutes when Jo came into her room. Jo was ready and dressed for the day with her hair in a high ponytail, a black tank top, and a pair of holey jeans. Elle opened one eye to see Jo's face almost pressed against hers. The Winchester girl instinctively backed away as Jo smiled and told her she had ten minutes to get ready. Elle slowly blinked before rubbing at her eyes and forcing herself into a sitting position. She wanted nothing more than to fall back against the pillows again and go back to sleep; but something inside her didn't want to disappoint Ellen. Instead, she got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, her feet padding across the hardwood floor. She took a quick shower before wrapping a big, fluffy towel around her body. Normally, she didn't have such a luxury of nice towels. They were usually scratchy motel towels, but she felt she could almost wear this towel and only this towel. That was, until she looked in the mirror. It wasn't her dripping hair she noticed—no, it were the scars covering her body and face. She closed her eyes and exhaled several times to keep the tears at bay. There was no possible way she could get used to seeing those scars. Not that she was the most beautiful person before or anything, but these scars made her hideous. They made her undesirable and they were a reminder of a secret that there were very few people she could let in on. Her fingers traced the scar on her face until a knock came at the door.

"Elle, you almost done?" Jo's voice came from the other side of the door. Elle fumbled to find the right words to say. Instead, she just opened the door—forgetting that she was only in a towel. For a moment she could see Jo's eyes widen and look up and down at the scars covering her body. Realizing her mistake, Elle quickly went back to hiding behind the door, just poking her head out with her hair dripping on the floor. "I—uh—just let me know when you're ready."

"You're not going to ask about them?"

"Do you want to tell me?" Elle looked to Jo for a moment before shaking her head no. "Then no, I don't want to know and hurry up, Mama will be waiting for us."

Jo walked away leaving Elle standing there in the bathroom. Elle waited about ten seconds before dashing across the hallway and into her room, closing the door behind her. As she crossed the room, Elle ran her fingers through her wet hair before she stopped short of her duffel bag. Originally, she had left the bag at Bobby's, but someone had dropped the bag off at the Roadhouse the day after she had decided to stay. She knew that person to be Sam because when she opened her bag, a letter addressed to her in his handwriting had fallen out of the bag. That letter sat unopened on the tall chest of drawers against the wall. She couldn't bring herself to open it because she knew that if she did, she would probably go running back to him and Dean, which would defeat the purpose. So instead, there is sat and it would sit until she was ready—which could possibly be never.

Elle pulled a green long-sleeved shirt with thumb holes out of her duffel, jeans, and cloud socks before quickly dressing. She laced up her Superman Converse sneakers and ran out of her room, leaving her wet hair just hang there. She quickly descended the stairs to find Jo waiting for her at the kitchen table. Jo stood up when she noticed Elle approaching, motioning the girl to follow her outside. Not saying a word, Elle followed Jo across the dirt path over to the Roadhouse. Jo was trying to explain the morning routine for opening the place, but Elle couldn't really focus on the words coming from Jo's mouth because her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She pulled her phone out to see that Sam was texting her. Normally, she'd just ignore it after she opened it, but she couldn't exactly do that this time.

Sam: You have five minutes to answer the following text before I resort to extreme measures…

Sam: You alive?

Elle: No.

Sam: Very reassuring. How are things going?

Elle: Can't talk now. Busy. Bye.

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she followed Jo through the backdoor of the Roadhouse into the kitchen. Ellen was already busy preparing the ingredients to make some pies. The thought of pie made Elle think of Dean which made her somewhat sad. Why hadn't he contacted her? Didn't he care? They had always been so close for all those years and now complete radio silence. Then again, Dean hadn't really reached out to Sam when he left for Stanford, but being the little sister made things different, didn't it? Ellen wished both the girls a good morning before she told Jo to go up front and take inventory of the bar. Jo nodded her head and walked through the door to the front. Elle moved to follow her when Ellen stopped her.

"You ever made pies from scratch before?"

"Does the kind from the grocery store that you just put in the oven count?" Ellen chuckled and shook her head at the young woman. Elle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a slight smile. "Then no."

"Well, go wash those hands and get on over here and help me."

Elle did as she was told. She walked over to the sink and gave her hands a quick wash before she walked back over to the island where Ellen was busy rolling the pie dough. Ellen told Elle to slice the apples into thin slices. She grabbed the knife and cut the apple in half, then into fourths, before slicing the fourths into smaller pieces. Elle couldn't help but think back to when she was little and Dean had to slice and peel the apples for her because she was stubborn and refused to eat an apple any other way. She knew that she had annoyed her brother with her demands, yet he did it anyway. Distracted from her slicing, Elle accidentally sliced her finger and swore out loud. She dropped the knife and brought the finger she had knicked up to her mouth. One would think that after going through the things she had gown through, a little knick on the finger wouldn't hurt anymore. Ellen showed her where they kept the Band-Aids and Elle put one on her finger and washed her hands once more before returning to slicing.

After the apples were all sliced, Ellen had Elle measure out the ingredients according to the recipe in an old Betty Crocker cookbook before she mixed them with the apples. They dumped the apple mixture into the pie crusts and then laid the top crust on, but Elle messed it up and stretched it out too far, causing a big hole in the middle. Ellen chuckled at Elle's mistake and had her roll the crust into a ball, rolling it out with a rolling pin, before trying again. After the third try, Elle finally managed to somewhat get the crust on. They gave the tops an egg wash before sticking them in the ovens. Elle breathed a sigh of relief when the timer was set. Maybe a domestic life wasn't for her—but maybe with a little more practice, maybe it could be.

Elle's next job included washing down all the tables before they opened. So, she went from table to table with a bucket of hot soapy water and a rag. She had wiped down three tables before her hair started to annoy her. She looked around to make sure that no one was watching her before she threw her hair up into a high ponytail. Since the accident she had used her hair to help cover the scars on her neck and cheeks, but she couldn't work with it in her face. When she was done wiping down the hard surfaces, she walked back into the kitchen to find Ellen checking on the pies in the oven. Basically, all that was left was to wait. As they day wore on, Jo showed her how to bus tables—not that it was all that difficult. You stacked the dishes and brought them to the back to be washed. It wasn't hard work, it was just busy work. Although, it was awkward when an occasional would wolf-whistle at them. Elle just tried to ignore it, but Jo would turn around and tell them to shove it where the sun don't shine.

"Sometimes guys need to learn to think with their upstairs brain," Jo muttered. "They think that I find that flattering. Most guys think a pizza and a six pack will do it for me."

"Abs or beer?" Elle whispered before Jo started cracking up laughing.

"You're funny. But I was talking about beer. Most guys here have a solid one pack." Jo made her gut stick out before she started rubbing it. Elle shook her head and smiled as she stacked some glasses. "What about you? How do guys try and get you."

"Mostly, they don't. I'm with Sam and Dean too much for them to actually get anywhere. Tommy's the first one who…never mind." Elle awkwardly tugged at her hair, releasing it from the messy bun she had it in before she walked back to the kitchen with the dishes she had stacked. Jo followed after her with a grin on her face. Elle set the dishes in the sink. She turned around to find Jo looking at her with the look on her face, but surprisingly she didn't ask anything. It was Elle who actually spilled first. She wasn't sure why she did it. She just did. It was as if she had been waiting for someone to ask about him and this was probably as close as she ever was going to get. "We actually saved Tommy from a Wendigo awhile back and then he came waltzing back into my life and I don't know. He's staying at Bobby's right now and I'm here. It's complicated."

"Is he the pizza and beer move kind of guy?" Jo smirked at Elle as she sat down on the stool. She pulled the other one out for Elle to sit on. Elle looked around the kitchen. This was weird. Never in her life could she remember having one of these discussions. Usually she had her brothers and of course they never wanted to hear such things. Besides, if she ever told them it was just to annoy them and watch them squirm. Elle sat down on the stool and looked at Jo who had a smile on her face.

"I don't know—but that definitely sounds more like my brother Dean—trying to be real smooth with the ladies. I'm too awkward to ever try his tactics, but he's the kind of person who can actually accomplish it."

"Of course he is, but at least he's cute." Jo shook her head with a smile as Elle looked at her new friend with a horrified expression on her face.

"Not you too. I was just starting to really like you."

"Only just starting?"

"Well—no, but…"

"Hey, it's fine and I was just making an observation. If I told you that I thought you were gorgeous would you think I was making a move on you?"

"No. I guess not."

"Exactly. Just a simple observation. But I also think he's one of the good ones and those aren't easy to come by. Now, you've got some dishes to wash and I've got some more tables to wait on."

"Yeah."

"And Elle—call the guy. You hold on to the good ones."

Elle nodded her head before she patted the phone in her pocket and went back to doing the dishes, while Jo went up front to wait on the customers. Elle was glad that she didn't really have to be up front. At least not until the dinner rush. Then Jo rushed back and asked Elle if she would bus the tables while she took the orders. It must've been some sort of hunters reunion because the place was actually packed. Elle had never imagined a place in the middle of nowhere would be quite so packed. She felt so clumsy and awkward compared to them—especially overhearing some of the jobs they had done. Once she finally managed to get to the table, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation at the table next to her. As she stacked the dishes she could hear some hunter going over the details of what he was dealing with to someone else and apparently they were both puzzled. Elle purposely left a few dishes at the table so that she could come back for them as she thought about things. By the time she put the plates in the sink and walked back for the glasses, she had it figured out. She scribbled the word wendigo on a napkin and carefully "accidentally" dropped the napkin on the table as she walked by with the glasses. As she walked back to the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder to see the guy about ready to crumple the napkin before he noticed the writing. He then looked around, slightly confused, but Elle disappeared into the kitchen before being noticed.

That night she actually called Tommy. To say he was surprised to hear from her was an understatement. They talked for a little bit about things—nothing important though. Just how he liked working for Bobby and he was learning a lot about cars between the salvage yard and trying to help Dean fix up the Impala. By fix, Tommy meant, hand Dean a wrench here or get a beer there. He also said that Dean didn't really talk about her unless Sam brought her up. Deep inside, Elle knew that Dean was mad at her. That he blamed her for their father's death—just as much as she did; but he didn't even know the worst part and he never could. Tommy then asked her about what she had been doing. She just told him that she was helping out where she could, but didn't really go into details because she didn't want to bore him with how many dishes she had washed that day or how pruned her hands were. There was a moment of silence before Elle told him that she had to go. She quickly hung up the phone before she could hear that he missed her or anything because she didn't want to hear what she already knew to be true. When she finally did go to bed, she once again cried herself to sleep over her guilt.

For the next couple of days, Elle continued to busy herself with dishes and busing tables. Every now and then she'd slip a napkin here or there if the person looked really stumped, but for the most part she tried to avoid trouble. It was actually rather nice avoiding trouble. It almost felt like the good ol' days before she had gotten dragged into the hunts. Back in the days when she and Sam would stay at the motel room in the forts Dean would build for them before he and their father left. Now that she thought back on it, the times weren't all that bad—but there were enough bad ones to almost cover up the good ones. Trouble-free seemed like a pleasant way to be—but she should have known that she was a magnet for trouble and it would eventually come knocking her way.

In one of their busy rushes, Ellen asked Elle to clean off some of the tables because Jo was busy taking orders while she cooked and Ash tended the bar. Elle took the gloves off her hands—finally figuring out that her hands pruned a lot less that way before she walked through the swinging kitchen door and into the front. She cleared the first table no problem, but the second table was where she ran into trouble. She found no one sitting at the table but there were files on the table. Elle just assumed that this guy had looked at a case for Ellen, but didn't want it—so he was leaving it. So, she picked it up and began looking through the information. The notes were rather meticulous and the handwriting was hard to read. Almost like looking at her father's notes, only harder to read if that was even possible. She was about to put the file back behind the counter when this tall, well-built man came rushing toward her with an angry expression on his face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my shit!" He shouted as he bounded toward her. Elle innocently smiled at him as she set the folder back down on the table and patted it. She was about to explain that it was an innocent mistake when he began laying into her. "Can't a guy take a piss without a woman meddling with his stuff? What's in this folder is none of your damn concern. You wouldn't know nothing about this shit, especially someone like you."

Normally, Elle would simply just apologize and move on, but a fire lit within her—something she hadn't felt for quite some time. Instead she set her jaw and narrowed her eyes at the man. He knew nothing about her, yet he was so quick to judge her. She had probably seen just as much in this life as he had. But that wasn't why she was standing up to him. Maybe, just maybe if he got pissed off enough, she could feel something again and the fact that she simply stood there while he yelled at her seemed to piss him off even more.

"Are you listening to a word I've been saying or are you that dumb?" Elle just blinked. "I'll teach you to talk you little bitch."

The man wound his arm back as if he were going to strike her when suddenly she was pulled out of the way by Ash. He pulled his arm around her middle and pushed her behind him so that he was standing between her and the man. Elle tried to get back in front of him, but Ash held his arm out, blocking her way.

"She was just doing her job, Pete," Ash said. "You were gone and she was trying to clean a table. Let it go, man."

"The way you've let your hair go? I don't think so. That little bitch had no reason to look through my papers."

"First of all, the name-calling really isn't cool. She has a name you know. Beside, you really want to go messing with one of John Winchester's kids?" With a blank expression on her face, Elle's eyes met his cold expression, which seemed to be a little shocked. "Yeah, didn't think so. Now move along—you've had enough for the night."

"I'm a paying customer, Ash."

"I'm cutting you off for the night, Pete. The door is that way."

The man grumbled something about not leaving a tip before he picked up his file folders and stomped out of the saloon like a little kid trying to make a scene in the grocery store. But Elle didn't care. To be honest, she was slightly more miffed at Ash for intervening. She had wanted to pick a fight with the man. She wanted to have a reason to hurt and cry at night. She knew her logic and reasoning didn't make sense, but some people would call that grief. Ash walked a reluctant Elle over to the bar and sat her down on a stool.

"What in the hell were you thinking picking a fight with Peter Greyson, little lady?"

"I wasn't picking a fight. You said so yourself."

"What I saw was you not high-tailing it out of there when you knew Greyson was on a rampage when you should have. Peter Greyson is not a man to be messed with. He's a damn good hunter but he's as bitter and out-for-blood as they come. You don't cross paths with that man. Ever. You do and you usually end up dead. So stay the hell away from him. Got it?"

"Fine—whatever. Why'd you bring my dad into this?"

"Rumor is that a few years back they were both here and he good ol' Pete tried to pick a fight with John Winchester. Your daddy kicked his ass of course and since then John Winchester is the only name he fears."

"Really?"

"The part about your daddy kicking his ass is true," Jo interrupted as she stood there with a heavy pile of dishes in her arms. "The rest Ash must've gotten out of one of those online role-playing games or Harry Potter."

"There's nothing wrong with Harry Potter. Well, since little Miss Winchester here has gone and thrown off my groove. I've got to go get it back," Ash stated as he cracked his knuckles and then fluffed his mullet before walking back behind the bar to serve a new customer.

"Beware the groove," Elle muttered causing Jo to give her an odd look before Jo mouthed Emperor's New Groove. This caused Elle to smile just a bit. She hadn't expected Jo to recognize her reference. For a brief moment, Elle wondered if Jo liked Disney movies too underneath that kick it in the ass exterior. But the moment was gone before Elle could ask as Jo walked her stack of dishes back to the kitchen. With a sigh, Elle grabbed the empty beer bottles from what had been Peter Greyson's table before she went back to washing dishes. When Elle was finally done with her shift, she walked back to the room Ellen was letting her stay in. Once she got to her room, she looked to see that she had a missed text message from Sam.

Sam: Hey Elle

Elle started to text him something back, but each time she erased it. She just didn't have anything good to say to him. Instead she thought of what almost happened with Greyson and tears began to roll down her cheeks and she thought of her father. There was still so much that she didn't know about her father. She had always thought about her mother as a mystery, but John Winchester was almost just as much of a mystery as her mother was. Not to mention that she felt guilt concerning both of their deaths. Elle tried to muffle her sobs as she clutched the key necklace around her neck, but she just couldn't contain them. Thankfully, she was pretty sure that Ellen and Jo were still at the Roadhouse. This was so embarrassing—she couldn't control her emotions. She closed her eyes tight and began to quietly sing Hey Jude, just like Dean used to sing to her to calm her down. She rocked herself and sang until she finally was tired enough to fall asleep as a thunderstorm rolled in.

One week later…

Sam: Elle you there?

Elle: Where is there exactly?

Sam: Finally you text back! Haven't heard from you in like a week.

Elle: Talked with Tommy last night.

Sam: He misses you. We all do.

Elle: Congratulations.

Sam: Dean finally got the Impala mostly fixed. I think we're heading to Montana soon.

Elle: I have work to do. Bye.

When they were open, Elle's job mostly consisted of doing the dishes, which was fine with her. Dishes weren't too terribly hard to do and for the most part it kept her out of the front, unless she had to bus tables when things got busy. Elle set her phone on the shelf above the sink as she set to washing the dishes. That was until Ellen suggested that she come up front and talk to someone. Elle made sure to pull her hair back down and that her clothing was covering as many of her scars as she could. She walked through the kitchen door and meandered behind the bar to where Ellen stood with a guy who was drinking whiskey.

"Garrett, meet Elle Winchester. Elle, meet Garrett Owen. I was just telling Garrett that you might be a good person to bounce ideas off," Ellen said as she smiled and motioned Elle to come closer. The guy held out his hand to shake and Elle looked to the older woman. "Don't worry, honey, he's one of the good ones."

"Winchester? Any relation to John?" Garrett questioned as Elle extended her hand to shake his.

"His uh—daughter," Elle responded as she withdrew her hand from the man's grasp. He gave her a quizzical look before asking her how he was doing. Elle froze for a moment. Her throat seemed to close for a moment and her mouth went dry. Ellen was about to explain when Elle grabbed the woman's arm and shook her head. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "He—uh—he died. Something got him before he got it."

"Sorry for your loss." Elle nodded her head at Garrett's apology. "So, how long have you been hunting?"

"I can't give you an exact date, but I've been surrounded by this crap my whole life. Literally."

"So, you'd be pretty knowledgeable of things then?"

"I'm going to let you two keep chattin'. I have something to check on in the back," Ellen said before she left Elle alone at the bar with Garrett. The Winchester girl watched as the older woman walked back through the kitchen doors before Garrett cleared his throat. Elle then turned to look at him. He appeared to have weathered a fair amount of hunts in his lifetime. Why was it he was coming to her? A little, hurt, and damaged girl. Then it clicked.

"Ellen put you up to this, didn't she?" Elle questioned the man with her gaze focused intently on his, waiting for his reaction. "You don't need my help at all."

"You're good," Garrett chuckled as he nodded his head. "You're observant like any good hunter should be. Can't say that many of them are though. Too many out there that don't know how to use this." He pointed to his head as Elle folded her arms across her chest.

"It's obvious you don't need my help." Elle turned to leave.

"Humor me, Winchester. Take a look. It can't hurt to get a second opinion."

By this point, Elle's back was to him. As much as she didn't want to look at it, he was right about it not hurting to get a second opinion. Although, he didn't seem like the kind of hunter that doubted himself. He didn't seem like her. She turned around and leaned against the bar, resting her elbow on the counter and her chin on her hands. She muttered the word fine before he began digging through a bag hidden from her sight. He plopped down several file folders and told her to take a look.

Elle rifled through the folders: police reports and missing persons fliers. All the people that were missing were children under the age of 10. All of them were taken from their homes right under their parents' noses. All of the kidnappings happened near Fargo, North Dakota. This case seemed oddly familiar. She looked through the school pictures and report cards of each of the four children. Maria King: needs to work on playing with others. Chris Bennett: sent to principal's office for hitting. Annie Michaels: doesn't share well with others. Cathy Young. Nothing was said about her, but her little brother Lyle was said to have seen something hairy and scary when he was downstairs with his sister sneaking cookies. He had ran to his parents room, but his sister never made it. Pushing the papers neatly back into their file folders, Elle closed them and handed them back to Garrett. She was pretty sure that she knew what it was.

"Rawhead," Elle responded. "The fact that it only went after kids significantly narrowed it down, but the fact that it chose Fargo was pretty stupid. It's not like there are tons of kids in Fargo for it to feed on. Then from all the reports, it looked like most of the kids looked to be a troublemakers to some extent, perfect prey for Rawheads. Although, Cathy threw me for a second, but her little brother was with her and he must have the naughty streak. He just managed to get away, so the monster took the closest kid in sight. You gotta find the thing's lair—it's probably at an abandoned section of town, where nothing can be seen or heard. They like basements especially, so it's most likely a house. Check a map of Fargo for an area where a bunch of people recently moved from and cross check that against areas that aren't the safest. It's probably somewhere where those sections overlap. Then, you're going to need to electrocute the thing. A Taser would probably work best, but just make sure that you're not in a puddle of water. You can seriously damage your heart and then you'll have a Reaper on your ass. So—how'd I do?"

"Right on the money, Winchester. Although, I'm not entirely sure how a Reaper came into play."

"Long story short: my brothers and I had a mishap while hunting a Rawhead this last year and ended up meeting a Reaper. So, when are you going to get the son-of-a-bitch?"

"Already did."

"Then why—"

"Your skills are good. Better than most hunters I've seen. Too good to waste being here doing dishes. Ellen told me that she had a Winchester out back washing dishes and I about shat myself. What would your daddy think if he knew?"

"My daddy's the reason I'm here. It's my fault he's dead. I might be good at the logistics when it comes to hunting, but I'm not so great on the follow through. I mean can I? If I have to—sure. But I'm not this extraordinary hunter you're making me out to be." Elle stood up straight and walked away toward the kitchen. She found Ellen standing in the back, as if she were waiting for her.

"Well?" Ellen questioned.

"What the hell was that?" Elle questioned. "He told me that I'm wasting myself. Some shit about my skills being too good to be washing dishes."

"Honey, as much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Am I saying that I want you going out on hunts? No. Of course not. But it might not hurt you to help someone out if they need the help. Help piece together the puzzle and let someone else do the shooting, stabbing, or burning. Don't think I haven't been watching you. Don't think I haven't seen you accidentally overhearing about whatever monster people are hunting when you're bussing table. You're like your daddy and you can't help but meddle."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ellen shook her head and pulled a napkin out of her pocket. It read salt and burn. Elle blushed for a moment before looking to the floor.

"You've been helping people, why not let them know you're helping them."

"Not everyone wants help."

"If you're talking about to Greyson, he can kiss my ass if he wants to. This is the life you were given, Elle Winchester, and you might as well live it because it will keep going on with or without you."

Elle wasn't sure how to respond. Instead she just sighed and muttered that she would think about it. She then went over to wash the dishes, but she found that Ellen had finished washing them. Ellen then told her that she could take the rest of the day off. With a sigh, Elle hung her house waist apron on the hook before she walked back to the house. She found Jo inside watching TV and Elle could have sworn that she was watching The Lion King, but the channel quickly changed to some terrible reality TV show. Jo nodded at her before Elle headed upstairs to her room. Then she did something that she hadn't done since she had gotten to here—she pulled out her sketchbook and started to draw. Without even meaning to, she began to sketch her father's silhouette as she hummed Hey Jude. She felt sad, but for the first time, she didn't start crying. The tears threatened to fall, but they didn't. Maybe there was hope. Maybe. Just maybe.

Three days later, Elle found herself working the bar with Ash. He was trying to teach her the ways of the bar, but she purposely didn't tell him that she had technically worked a bar before. Partially because his spiel was entertaining and partially because the more he talked the less she didn't. The first part of his training was learning the beers—literally. He had a shot glass filled with each type of beer that they had available on tap or bottled for each of them. Ash motioned for Elle to sit on a stool at the bar. He had taken Ellen's Specials Menu chalkboard down from the wall, erased it, and had written different names of each beer. Apparently, it was going to be her job to figure out which beer matched each description. Elle sat down on the stool, with her hair in face but still managing to give Ash a look of concern.

"What about the mixed drinks?" Elle questioned.

"No one orders those here and if they do, they're a pansy," Ash commented. Elle gave him a look that read really? which caused Ash to shake his head. "First things first my young Padawan. Beer."

Elle rolled her eyes at Ash, feeling more like herself than she had in quite some time. Maybe the worst of it was over. Maybe everything was behind her. Ash then began to teach her. He described a beer to her before having her sample it. He then would ask her if she tasted everything that he had described to her. She lied and said that she did. Truth was—beer was beer to her. Did that make her a terrible person? She had just taken a shot glass of her third beer when the phone rang. Ash told her to run over and answer it, so she jumped off the stool and jogged over to the phone and answered it..

"Harvelle's Roadhouse Saloon, this is Elle speaking, how may I help you?"

"Elle?" a familiar voice sounded which caused a slight smile to spread across Elle's face.

"Sammy? It's good to hear from you. How're things going?"

"You sound really happy. Happier than I've heard you in a long time."

"Yeah, I am. I'm really good. I think the worst is behind us."

"Elle, grief doesn't work like that…"

"Sam, you're not me. You don't know how my process works. Now, I'm guessing you didn't call to ruin my mood."

"I actually called to talk to Ellen."

Elle set the receiver of the phone against her shoulder and shouted for Ellen. Instead of coming, Ellen just shouted back to Elle—asking what she wanted. She then shouted that Sam was on the phone for her. Ellen then shouted asking what he wanted. Elle rolled her eyes before picking the phone back up. "She wants to know what you want."

"I just wanted to know if she knows someone named Gordon Walker."

"He wants to know if you know someone named…" Elle started shouting when Ellen appeared up front. A puzzled look came over Ellen's face when Elle mentioned the name Gordon Walker before she walked over and took the phone from Elle. Elle swore she heard Ellen mutter something about them being great at meeting the worst sorts of people, but she didn't say anything instead she went back to her seat at the bar as Ash continued to explain things about each beer. But Elle listened to Ellen's conversation with Sam instead. She overheard that Gordon Hunter was a good hunter, but then things seemed to take a serious turn. Ellen told Sam not to do something before making the comparison of Hannibal Lecter being a good psychiatrist. Elle's brow furrowed as Ellen told Sam that he and Dean should just being moving along from their current job. After several more exchanged, Ellen hung up the phone and sighed. Ellen looked over at Elle. The girl seemed to have done some healing here. But she knew how fragile a person could be and she was pretty sure that for the first time in her life, Elle Winchester was overestimating herself.

Elle looked over at Ellen and gave the woman a slight smile. She really had come to respect the woman as a mentor and dare she even think it—a mother figure. But it was too soon to think that, right? Ash slammed the counter, groaning that Elle wasn't paying attention. She then gave Ash the best innocent smile she could muster before he continued to explain the beers. When she finally got to the beer tasting test, Ash mixed the shot glasses around which wasn't good because she had memorized them according to their position. Thus, Elle failed the beer tasting test. She only got one beer right and that was because it was a pure guess on her part. Ash deemed that he was just going to have to reteach her and Ellen interjected that it would have to be tomorrow as customers walked inside. Well, it was actually Peter Greyson and some piece of arm candy on his arm. Elle walked behind the bar and stood behind Ash as Peter gave her a disgusted look. She didn't want this douche ruining her mood either, so she walked back into the kitchen leaving Ash with the customers.

Time continued to pass and Elle continued to live and work at the Roadhouse. She could hardly believe it was August 29th when she changed the date on the Specials Menu board. She used a piece of lime green chalk to write the new date, but she hated the feeling of chalk on her hands and even more hated the sound it made against the blackboard. It made her spine shiver. She shook her head at herself—she had gone up against creepy-ass things and yet she almost hated chalk more than those things. When she was done, she pulled out her cellphone to see that there weren't any missed calls or texts. Bobby had given up texting her, Sam texted her every couple days, Missy Bender had been calling a couple times a week, Tommy communicated with her almost every day, but Dean still had yet to talk to her. To be honest, Elle was actually kind of scared to be the one to contact him because she feared being rejected by her older brother. The thought of Dean made her heart hurt and her throat tighten. What if he already knew what she said? But it was impossible.

Ellen came to the front and sat at a table before motioning Elle to do the same. So Elle went and sat beside Ellen as she called for Jo to get her little butt out there. Jo ran from the kitchen with a confused look on her face as she looked at her mother. Ellen then motioned for Jo to sit down. Jo looked at Elle who shrugged. Was this going to be one of those awkward talks? Jo sat down and Ellen gently smiled—which almost scared both of the girls.

"I'm giving you both the day off," Ellen announced. "You both have been working hard. So why don't you go spend the day at the mall or something."

"The mall?" Jo scoffed. "Since when do we spend days at the mall?"

"Joanna Beth, maybe it's something that Elle would enjoy doing. Are you really going to deprive her of that?"

"Do you want to go to the mall?"

"Well, I—uh," Elle fumbled.

"See? She doesn't want to go to the mall," Jo said flatly to her mother as she folded her arms across her chest. But Ellen's mind wasn't going to be changed. She flat out told Jo that she was going to drive Elle to the mall and they were each going to buy something to prove that they had actually been there. "Mom, that isn't my kind of life. I thought we already discussed this, multiple times. I'm never going to be the girl that goes to the mall for a good time. I'm not the kind of girl that is going to live the cookie cutter life with 2.5 kids, driving them to soccer in a mini-van."

"Joanna Beth, you will do as you're told," Ellen said sternly. "Or you can work. Excuse me for being decent enough to give you time off."

"Meet me at the truck in ten, Elle," Jo muttered before she stood up and walked away. Elle looked to Ellen who only gave a slight smile and then motioned for her to get her butt moving.

Ten minutes later, Jo and Elle pulled out of the Roadhouse parking lot and onto the road in an old pickup truck. The air conditioning didn't work, so both girls rolled down their windows. Elle almost immediately regretted dressing in a long-sleeved shirt, but she needed it to cover things. Her scars in particular. She still couldn't show anyone her scars. They still pained her to look at them and they embarrassed her if anyone did catch a glimpse at them. She already had too many customers ask about the scars on her face, but she just tried to ignore them. Elle pulled at the neck on her shirt as Jo sped down the highway. She chatted easily with Jo. Over the past weeks, Jo had basically turned into someone Elle knew she could trust—dare she say it, a friend? Probably the first honest to goodness friend she had ever had that knew what she did for a living…or used to. They were at the mall when Jo's truck came to a stop in the parking lot. Jo pulled out her phone and then turned it off as Elle was about to get out of the truck. Elle wasn't sure how these mall get-togethers worked. She knew people shopped, but she rarely went shopping except for Goodwill. She had just jumped out of the truck when Jo told her to get back in. Elle gave Jo a puzzled look which made her laugh.

"I would much rather go to the shooting range and shoot things than go shopping. You?" Jo questioned.

"Sounds good to me," Elle said with a shrug. "But Ellen said we needed to come back with something."

"And we will. We'll swing by after we shoot stuff. Now let's go." Jo motioned for Elle to jump back in the truck so she did. About fifteen minutes later they pulled into Gunner's Shooting Range when Elle's phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket to find that Sam had texted her again.

Sam: Elle, you there?

Elle: Maybe. Depends. Why?

Sam: Just bored. We're headed to Illinois for a job and Dean's farts are toxic.

Elle: Crack a window?

Sam: I miss you.

Elle: Got to go shoot things.

Sam: What?

Elle: Bye!

Sam: Campbell Mary Winchester what the hell are you shooting?

Elle didn't see that last text because she tossed her phone in the glove compartment of Jo's truck before slamming the door shut and following Jo inside the building. Elle felt somewhat uncomfortable as they walked inside. Partly because there were only guys in the place and partly because she was paranoid they were only looking at her scars. She made sure that she kept her hair hanging over her face so that they couldn't see them. Inwardly, Elle wanted to punch one of the guys who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off her. Jo stopped at the counter and told the guy that she'd like two rifles.

"What are two pretty girls such as yourselves doing at a place like this?" the man responded. His breath smelled terrible as he leaned against the counter.

"My friend and I each would like a gun to go shoot stuff with. You know—bang, bang?" Jo responded sarcastically before she put some money down on the table. The guy took the bill and held it up to the light to see if he could find the watermark. Elle rolled her eyes. This guy was a pig and he probably slept with them the way he smelled. He took Jo's money before he got down two guns and told them to follow him. He led them to their outdoor shooting range.

"Now, it's gonna be extra for me to teach you how to shoot." Jo rolled her eyes and snatched a gun from the guy before handing it over to Elle. The blonde girl nodded for Elle to go ahead and show the guy what she was capable of. Elle gripped the gun before lining up her shot. She thought of all those times when Dean would take her out to shoot. His words kick it in the ass rang through her head as she took her first shot. She perfectly nailed the target farthest from where they were standing. She then looked up at the man and cocked an eyebrow causing him to mutter to himself. "Beginners luck."

"Give 'im hell, Winchester."

"You got it, dude." Elle smirked at Jo's response before she took aim and shot at each of the targets in front of her until her gun was out. Each bullet pierced the target, although that last one went a little too far from the center for her liking, but she made her point. Elle pretended to blow over the barrel of her empty gun when she was done. The guy simply shook his head and went back inside to get them more bullets. Elle was surprised that several of the guys outside managed to give her a round of applause. An embarrassed Elle hid her face behind her hair as Jo took aim at the targets.

Jo's shooting was just as good as Elle's. She hit each of the targets and once again the other males there shooting guns were flabbergasted that a woman could shoot that well. Which was completely stupid. There were women cops, women in the military, and other women who just enjoyed shooting. But no, they had probably come to the most sexist shooting range in the state. Well, they were teaching them. The sun beat heavily upon them and Elle pulled at her shirt. She was warm. Too warm. Jo suggested that she roll her sleeves up, but Elle refused. She didn't want those scars to see the light of day. Maybe that way they didn't exist. The girls each took turns shooting as they chatted.

"So, when are you going back to hunting?" Jo questioned as she lowered her gun to let Elle have a turn.

"Never, hopefully," Elle responded. "Although, I know that one never really leaves the hunters life."

"Do you know what I'd give to be able to go out on hunts like you?"

"It's not all it's cracked-up to be. I mean my dad…he just kinda forced the life on us. I wish I'd have had a choice in it all because I wouldn't have chosen it."

"And my dad left us out of it, to try and give us a normal life so we'd stay out of it and I want in."

"Then why don't you?"

"My mom doesn't want me doing it. It's how my dad died, you know. I remember him going out on a hunt and then never coming back. I never got to say goodbye. So Mama and I just kept on going with one foot in the door one foot out. It sucks. She doesn't think I'd be able to handle my own out there."

"You seem perfectly capable of shooting things to me and that's coming from someone who's hunted for a while now."

"Exactly…exactly." Jo's tone had changed by this point. This time she was looking at Elle with a smile on her face. Elle looked back at Jo hesitantly as the girl continued. "You're an experienced hunter. You could teach me things that I can't just pick up from listening to the Roadhouse conversations. We could be a kickass team."

"I don't know, Jo. I don't wanna piss your mom off."

"God—that's what everyone says. She'll come around eventually once she sees how kickass we are. I mean you said so yourself, I'm already pretty good and we both know you're good—even if you won't admit it. Just promise me that you'll think about it."

"I'll think about it, but I've never really hunted with anyone besides my family and Bobby who is as good as family."

"Well, maybe someday you'll consider me family."

The girls both finished up their rounds before they returned the guns and headed back to the truck. Elle felt like she was sweating to death still in her long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Being insecure in the summer sucked. She panted a bit when they got in the truck and fanned at her face with a roadmap she found in the glove compartment. They stopped at the mall quickly to pick up somethings to make it look like they had been shopping. Jo picked out a few tank top from Sears and Elle got a pair of Tigger socks from the Disney Store before they headed back to the truck. Elle hadn't even realized that Jo parked in the same exact spot she had before they went to the shooting range. Jo picked up her phone and then turned it back on. Elle looked at her curiously before she explained that the GPS on her phone stopped and started at the mall, meaning that her mother should be none the wiser when they got back to the Roadhouse.

When they got back to the Roadhouse, Ellen was waiting for them with an unhappy expression on her face. She knew. You could just tell that she knew they hadn't spent all their time at the mall. Ellen asked them how the mall went—the moment of truth. Jo told her mother that it was as boring as usual and pulled out her tank tops and Elle pulled out her socks. But it was obvious Ellen didn't buy it because then she asked how things went at the shooting range. Busted. Both girls wondered how Ellen found out. Jo even mentioned that she turned her phone off so that they couldn't track her, but Ash piped in that he tracked Elle's phone. Elle left as Jo and Ellen began to argue. Her heart felt heavy as she got to her room and pulled out her sketchbook and tried to draw away the pain that she had been pushing down for days now; but she pushed it right back down—only causing more pressure to build up. It wouldn't be long now until her emotions erupted like a volcano.

A few days later, Elle was washing tables before the Roadhouse opened in a few hours. Jo and Ellen were in town restocking the essential supplies and Ash had taken the day off, probably to do something nerdy. That left Elle alone at the Roadhouse, which she didn't mind. A little alone time never killed anyone, right? She was in cleaning down the bar counter when the phone started to ring. Who could possibly be calling when they weren't even open? Elle assumed that it was probably Ellen asking her to check to see if they needed something she tossed the rag over her shoulder before she walked over to the phone. She picked it up and held it to her ear—not expecting the voice on the other end to be Peter Greyson.

"Need-need to talk to Ellen." Greyson sounded groggy, which confused Elle. Unless he was drunk or something—like the typical hunter.

"She's not here, can I take a message?" Elle questioned sounding more cheery than she felt talking to this man.

"I—I—need—need to talk to a—a hunter. Now."

"I'm the only one here."

"Baby, how did you wake up? Don't worry; I can take care of that." The voice's tone didn't sound right. Then there was this strange hissing sound and the phone dropped to the ground as she could hear Peter struggling and groaning. Elle heard a body plop to the ground. Was he dead? Elle waited a moment before she heard the faint whisper of the word Vetala. Then nothing from Peter, but a voice smoothly said, "Goodbye" before hanging up the phone.

Elle stood there frozen for a moment. Greyson was taken by a Vetala. She wondered if that piece he had on his arm the last time she saw him was the Vetala. He needed help. Despite how much she hated the guy, she couldn't let him die without first trying to save him. That much was in her blood. But she couldn't be the one to do it. She had royally screwed up on the last job and the last monster before that had tortured her near to death. Elle hung up the phone before she ran outside to see if maybe a hunter had decided to spend the night in his truck, but no such luck. She really was the only one on the property. She called both Jo and Ellen's cellphones, but neither of them answered. She called Ash too—but no response. She called Bobby—but Tommy said that he had gone out to get some more hunter's helper. Shit. Then she called the last person she wanted to call. She called Dean. After a few rings, Sam answered the phone.

"Hey, Elle, what's up?" Sam's voice asked.

"Where are you?" Elle questioned.

"Just finished this really creepy case in Illinois. You'll never believe it—this guy wanted to bring this girl back and…"

"Sam, I'd love to hear about it sometime, but right now I need to talk to Dean. It's urgent."

"What do you want?" Dean's voice growled a few seconds later.

"Do you remember that Vetala job a few years back?"

"Yeah, the one where you actually got captured by one and it started feeding on you until I came in and saved your ass?"

"Yeah, that one."

"What about it?"

"My memory's a little hazy, but how many feedings before it kills a person? Three, right?"

"Usually three—sometimes four. Why?"

"Silver knife to the heart, right?"

"Elle, why the twenty-questions about Vetalas? Especially since you already seem to know the answers."

"Dean, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and I love you. Please don't forget that."

"Shit, Elle are you going to go do something stupid? Take that back—you are going to go do something stupid. At least tell me what this stupid thing is so I can save your ass."

Elle barely choked out the word goodbye before she hung up her phone. Dean was right—she was about to go do something stupid, but she couldn't just let a man die without trying first. Hopefully, he had only been fed on twice and hopefully he was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch that wouldn't go down after the third feeding. She ran back into the Roadhouse and to the phone. She put the phone to her receiver and dialed *69 to find out the last number that called. She quickly scrawled down the number on the pad of paper by the phone and called the cellphone company she was pretty sure his number belonged to. Elle cracked her neck as she waited for an associate to answer the phone. She was just about to but on the worried daughter act for a man she disliked, but if it saved him…

"Hello, this is Andy how may I assist you and your cellular needs today?"

"Hi my name is Elle and I just got a rather disturbing phone call from my father. I think he might be hurt. I was hoping you could track his number so I could find him and check on him."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't just give out information like that."

"Please? This is my father we're talking about." Elle let the tears begin to well in her eyes and her throat get a little hoarse. "My mother died about a month ago and he hasn't been the same since. He goes out drinking and doesn't come back. I just know in my heart that something is really really wrong this time. Please, I don't want to lose both of my parents. Daddy's all I have left. If he dies…I—I don't know what I'll do."

"Do you have his number, ma'am?"

Elle gave the man named Andy the number she had written down for Greyson. Thankfully, he was able to track it to an address about an hour from the Roadhouse. She ran back to her room and grabbed her duffel bag before grabbing the keys to Jo's truck. They must've taken Ellen's truck. So, Elle hopped in Jo's truck and took off down the road. Outwardly, she was sure that she appeared somewhat calm, cool, and collected as her father had taught her to be; but on the inside, she was a wreck. She tried to go over everything she knew about Ventalas in her head as she drove. Ventalas were commonly mistaken for vampires. They looked perfectly human, but they masked their snake-like eyes with vertical irises. They had four pointed fangs used to sedate their victims with venom and feed off of them for days. The victim usually died after the third or fourth feeding, meaning that she had to hurry to find Greyson.

Her stomach continued to flip as she drew closer and closer to the location. It was so bad that she almost had to pull over and puke. That or turn around and let Greyson figure things out on his own. But Elle knew what it was like to be held captive by a Ventala. Her hand absently went to her neck as he couldn't help but picture the one that had fed off her. Thankfully, they had only managed to feed off her once before Dean came in and saved her ass. It was stupid really the whole situation. Dean had told her to come inside with him while he investigated something—but being her stubborn self, she refused and stayed in the car. Until she had to go to the bathroom—you know, the typical girl gets out of car, girl gets kidnapped by monster scenario. She was knocked unconscious and next thing she knew she woke up to Dean standing over the two Ventalas dead bodies. She was groggy for a few days afterward, but she was glad that Dean never told their father what had actually happened on that hunt. But this time, she was on her own. This time she couldn't afford to be the damsel in distress although she desperately hoped that someone else managed to swoop in and kick the Ventalas ass so she didn't have to.

The truck came to a stop outside an old abandoned gas station. This was the address where Greyson was apparently being held. It didn't look like much, but it seemed like a secluded enough place to hide someone—not to mention that it was an easy spot to prey upon unsuspecting victims hoping the place was actually open. That was going to have to be her cover to get in—being lost and in need of help when she would surprise attack the thing when it wasn't expecting it. Just in case the thing was watching her, she pulled a map out of Jo's glove compartment and put a puzzled expression on her face as she slowly reached into her duffel bag where Sam had thankfully packed her a silver knife of all things. Still acting up the puzzled thing, Elle stuck the knife under the back of her shirt, tucked into her jeans. She bit her bottom lip hard, causing it to bleed before she jumped out of the truck. Kicking the dirt as she walked, she finally stumbled to the door of the gas station. She put her hands on the glass and pressed her face against the hands to look inside.

"Hello?" Elle called. "Hello? Is anyone there? I'm seriously lost. I just need to use your phone. Hello? Hello?"

Elle pulled at the door which read push. She quickly realized her mistake and pushed on it and it opened, just as she expected it to. If they were trying to trap people, it was best to lure them inside. She walked inside and called again to see if anyone was there. Suddenly, someone came out from the back. Sure enough, it was the piece of arm candy Greyson had the last time she saw him. How could he be so stupid to try to hook up with a Ventala? Then again, she was stupid enough to come and try and save his ass when she knew she wasn't ready for this, but maybe that was why she came. Elle tried to put on her act for the Ventala, but it wasn't buying it. It lunged at her. Elle dove onto the floor, but the Ventala managed to get a grip on her leg. It then swung her into the shelving, causing it to collapse. Elle groaned in pain when the thing picked her up by the neck and held her in front of her face. She half expected the thing to feed on her right then and there, but this thing was pissed and played with her dinner. Instead, it threw against the glass cooler cases, causing the glass to shatter. For a moment she wondered why she wasn't getting any assistance. Why was no one helping her? Was she truly alone?

She lay in a pile of glass, unable to get up. She just hurt too badly to move not to mention that every move she did take, more and more glass pierced her flesh. The Ventala stood over her and chuckled before it got down to her level, practically straddling her. It sheathed its fangs and slowly moved its mouth toward Elle's neck. As Elle lay there, a part of her wanted to let it feed on it. A part of her wanted to die right then and there. A part of her knew she deserved to die. As the Ventala inched forward, it was then Elle realized that this had never been about saving Greyson. This had been a suicide mission from the start. This was exactly what she wanted to happen. She wanted the easy way out—because she was too cowardly to do it herself, why not let a monster take her down for the count? Just do it already, Elle thought, but then something happened. Her phone began to ring from her pocket and she recognized the ringtone. It belonged to Dean. Dean was calling her. Despite however pissed her was at her, Dean was calling her. Something momentarily surged within her. Despite the glass tearing at her skin, she reached her arm behind her back and grabbed hold of the knife before plunging it into the Ventala—straight in the heart.

Elle watched as the Ventala's eyes widened before it fell back and began to shrivel up into its reptilian form. Slowly, she sat up and looked at the thing. She had almost let it get her. She had almost let it kill her. That wasn't all right. She wasn't all right. She had been putting on an act for the sake of those at the Roadhouse, but she realized that she wasn't going to be all right any time soon. She covered her face with her hands as the tears streamed down her face. Partly from all the pain she was in, but mostly from being so confused and guilt-ridden. What would her father think if he could see her now? He most certainly wouldn't be proud of what she had just done. Then again, neither would Sam or Dean. Dean. She had momentarily forgotten about his phone call as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. He had left her a voicemail. She punched in her passcode and listened to her brother's voice which made the tears flow even harder.

"Elle, I tracked your phone. Where the hell are you going? If this has something to do with a Ventala, I'm going to kick your ass seven ways to Sunday. Sam and I are on our way back and your little ass better be at the Roadhouse when we get there or I swear to god I'm going to kill you. Sammy says I can't kill you, but if you're hearing this, I think you get the point. Bye."

With tears still falling down her face, Elle picked herself up from the floor. She got up and walked to find Greyson unconscious behind the counter. She hurt as she bent down to see if he was breathing, which he was. But in her current state, there was no way she was capable of lifting an unconscious fully-grown man over six feet tall into the truck. Instead, she hopped up onto the counter to sit there and wait until he was somewhat lucid so that they could get back to the truck. While she waited there, she examined herself—noting that her pinky finger was dislocated. She screamed as she popped it back into place which seemed to rouse Greyson.

"You look like shit," Greyson said groggily.

"You should see the other guy," Elle muttered before she attempted to help Greyson to his feet. His grogginess and her injuries did not make for a good combination to get them both out to the car. After what seemed like forever, Elle and Greyson finally both were in Jo's truck. Greyson in the passenger's seat, asleep and Elle driving.

By the time they got back to the Roadhouse, Jo and Ellen ran outside to meet them. Bruises were already beginning to show on Elle's body and her little finger was quite swollen. Ellen asked her what happened, but Elle only responded with one word: Ventala before she walked away, leaving Greyson in the truck. She walked back to the house, ignoring the looks from Jo. She went up to her room and locked the door behind her. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. She curled up with the pillow on her bed and began to cry once again, only this time she cried herself into hysterics. What was wrong with her? Why was she doing this? What was she doing? When would it stop? These were only a few of the questions plaguing a broken Elle Winchester. There was only one thing of which she was certain somewhere along the line she effed things up and now her life was a complete and utter mess. A mess that she didn't think could be cleaned.

Author's note: First, let me apologize for taking so long with this chapter. The fact that it was an original chapter intimidated me. So original chapter? I mean, I know it wasn't exactly the same but goodness…I'm nervous if ya'll liked it! So there's that. As always thank you, to you wonderful people for reading/reviewing/favoriting/ following my story. Truly, it means a lot. I never expected to get the response I've gotten. To those of you who have stuck with me over a year now—thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh! This hasn't been beta-d. So any and all mistakes are mine! Sorry! They'll be fixed when she has time to fix my mistakes! I just wanted to get this chapter to ya'll.

As always, feel free to come visit Elle's tumblr. Got questions and want fast answers? I probably got them there. Also you can see crappy edits I make…or you can submit your own.

If you're into Teen Wolf—I have a fic called "Someone Else's Starr" that you could check out and I might have a Jurassic World fic coming (positive peer pressure—haha) Don't worry, UATW is my main priority, but with how heavy UATW has been, I need some lighter things to write too! Love ya'll!