A/N: My tumblr followers are great. They gave me a bunch of lovely ideas for "ordinary everyday" activities the boys and Ellie might be performing for this chapter. Of course, they didn't know where I was going with those ideas, but I think it worked out okay.
Chapter 50: White Christmas
November 23rd
"Okay, I got candy for us, trail mix for Sam and they have coke in a six-pack," I said, bounding over to Dean with my basket. "Plus, look! Pretzels!" I held up the packet to show him. Pretzels and candy. Perfect road food.
"Nice work," Dean said. "I got shaving cream, and here's that fruity shampoo you like."
"Yeah! That is the right one!" I had not expected Dean to recognise my shampoo when he saw it. I tended to buy the same one when I could get it, although I didn't much care about the scent. It came in mango, berries, apple; a bunch of different fragrances and they were all amazing. The main thing was it made my hair look shiny and maybe even flatten down a little.
"And check it out," he said, holding up a packet to show me. "They're selling candy canes already! Not even December yet!"
"Oh, great!"
"Cos you love peppermint, right?"
I did love peppermint. But not in that shape. Never in that shape. But how to explain that to Dean.
"Right…"
November 25th
Even with the heat blasting and multiple layers on, it was still freezing in the Impala. The legos jammed in the radiator were rattling so loud it seemed like the car was coming apart.
"It's so freakin' freezing," I muttered, mostly to myself.
"You want to pull over?" Sam asked. "I could get your blanket out of the trunk…"
I didn't want to piss Dean off by asking him to stop. Or make Sam get out into the snow and rummage around in the trunk just for me.
"No, it's okay."
"You sure?" Dean asked. "Be a couple hours still. You gonna be okay back there?"
I hadn't expected Dean to be worried about me getting cold, but I appreciated it. Still, I didn't want him going out and getting cold any more than Sam, just because I couldn't handle a little chill.
"Not worth it," I said, trying to stop my teeth chattering so they wouldn't know I was lying. "I'm just whining, ignore me."
This was good enough for Dean, but Sam started wriggling in his seat and I realised he was taking his jacket off.
"Sam, don't…"
"Seriously, Pea, if we turn the heat up anymore, I'm gonna boil. Wear it."
He handed it back to me without looking and I took it. It was so big that it made a better blanket for me than a jacket, so I draped it round myself. It smelt nice, vaguely like Sam's aftershave. It was like being hugged by him, and that's a warm experience, so maybe thinking of it helped. It wasn't surprising Sam was warm. He seemed to give off heat.
"At least it'll be a white Christmas, huh Ellie!?" said Dean, still keeping his attention on the road.
I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I'm sure he didn't buy it. "Oh, yeah! That'll be fun!"
November 27th
"Ellie!" Sam called, through the bathroom door. "Bobby's on the phone, he says…"
"Tell him to F off!" I called, tweezers poised and ready over my eyebrow.
I heard Sam sigh on the other side, but he didn't try to persuade me or anything. He knew better than that.
November 29th
The only other person in the laundromat was the middle aged Russian man behind the counter. The only time he'd looked up was when we came in, and even then he'd taken one look and gone back to his magazine. He didn't even look up when I had to kick the washers to get them to start.
We sat along the wall, playing games in a crappy notebook, and trying to filter out the crackly music from the Russian guy's radio. It was a weird station. Sinatra, followed by Madonna, then some Bon Jovi. They all sounded sorta the same, just wobbly voices, punctuated with static.
After forty five minutes, first sorting, then washing and then drying, all our clothes were finally ready. We had to use two dryers at a time to fit them all, and they dinged at us, one at a time. Sam emptied one and I the other, sweeping the entire contents into the big baskets the laundromat supplied.
"Some of this is still damp," I sighed. "It'll have to go through again."
Most of it was jeans, although a jacket of Sam's needed to go back in too. We chucked them into one of the smaller dryers, and carried the rest back to fold them at the big table. Might as well, since we were stuck there.
We sorted them by who they belonged to, as we went. I was a quick folder, but Sam went a little slower.
"Uh… er…"
I looked up and laughed. He had successfully folded up some of my underwear without any comment, but this particular item was giving him some trouble.
"What?" I asked.
"How do I… they're kinda…" He was blushing as he held it out to me.
I took it from him, with a giggle. He had his flustered smile and dimples. I should definitely make him fold my laundry more often.
"Never seen a g-string before?" I asked, quickly flipping it up into a neat little triangle.
"No, I have… I just… "
"Picturing it, huh?" I teased. "Well, if you need more context, I usually wear it with that pink bra…"
He went from a little pale pink on his cheeks to a much brighter hue and over most of his face. "I wasn't! I just meant…"
"Don't have to be embarrassed, Sam." I held up a pair of plain white briefs that I knew for sure were not Dean's. "I've just discovered why you always wear boxers when you get out of the shower. These don't leave much to the imagination, do they?"
He stared at me for a second, blush still rising on his face. Then he smiled. "They cover a lot up, actually."
They didn't look like it. Sure they were large, but so was their owner. They looked like they would sit pretty low on his hips, so I didn't see how they could cover that much…
Oh. Now I was the one staring, in absolute shock. I wasn't used to such remarks out of Sam. Dean and I were playing the deliberately sexy game all the time, but I expected better out of Sam! I didn't realise he even knew what innuendo was!
"Did you just… Sam!"
I threw his underwear at him, and he caught it, with a smirk, before balling up one of my tank tops and throwing it at me as hard as he could. I just had time to step out of the way as it whooshed past me. It landed on the floor, over by the Russian man and his radio. Going over to fetch it, I could hear a little more clearly through the crackle of static.
"Is that The Little Drummer Boy?" I asked. Of all the annoying Christmas carols, that was my absolute least favourite.
Sam looked up, as I started heading back with a shirt. He pulled a face. "Yep."
"It's freakin' November," I muttered, and the remainder of my folding was done in agitated silence.
December 1st
"Shh, honey! It's a library. You can't yell in here."
It was just one of those small town libraries, a few bestsellers, some kid's books and the local records. My new friend Margie the Librarian was out back in the archives, looking for old town maps for me. So, apart from the mother and her little girl, it was just me.
"But Mommy, that lady has freckles like mine, look!"
I glanced up from the newspaper to see that the kid was looking at me and pointing. I hadn't really noticed how freckly she was. She must have been five or six, and she had dark hair and very pale skin, with freckles on just about every inch of her face. I had loads of freckles at her age too, though most of them had faded a little as I got older. I always used those lightening products on them in my teens, but I didn't know if they worked.
"I'm so sorry," said the mother. "Lilly, it's rude to point."
"It's okay," I said. "You got a lot of freckles, huh?"
Lilly pulled her mother's hand to bring her closer to me. "Yup. I hate them. But Mummy says they're just what the sun makes."
"I used to hate mine too," I said. "But now I think they make my face more interesting. They used to be real dark. Like yours. Especially on my nose."
"How come they're not dark no more? Will mine look like yours?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. You'll have to wait and see."
"I hope so. You're pretty."
She was so adorable. All rugged up warm in her little green overcoat and scarf, she looked almost round. She had her freckled face sticking out the top, and little clips in her hair that had flowers on. Her stockinged legs stuck out the bottom, and she was wearing tiny little cowgirl boots. Also with flowers. Just precious, and I kind of wanted to hug her. That'd be weird, though.
"Thankyou. So are you. Your freckles look lovely. And I like your boots. Do you like reading?"
"Yup! Mummy reads with me every night!"
"Awesome," I said. "I like reading too. I hope you find some good books."
Margie returned from the archive room, two large rolled up sheets under her arm. "I found them, at last. Just misfiled. Oh, hello Lilly! Having a day out with your mama, again?"
"We went to the park!" said Lilly.
Margie put the maps down for me and told me to let her know if I needed anything else. Then she headed away to find Lilly and her mother some books they'd like. I listened to Lilly chattering away as I rolled out the first map, trying to hold back my emotions.
Just focus on the damn case, Ellie, I thought. Don't do this again. Not again.
December 3rd
"I'm not coming out!"
"Now who's whiny?!" I called through the curtain. "Come on, it's just a suit!"
"This is your fault," Dean yelled back, as he ripped open the curtain.
Oh, come on. My fault? It wasn't my fault I couldn't get the damn body to catch fire. It was so freakin' windy. And the sleet didn't help. So maybe that gave the spirit an extra two minutes to beat on Dean and tear up his Fed-suit, but that was arguably a job hazard.
"Hurry up and get out here, it can't be that bad!"
It was that bad. As soon as he opened the change room curtain and stepped out, I erupted into giggles. That's the thing about buying suits second hand. You don't exactly get the latest fashion.
"Oh my God, you look like a junior reporter from 1985!"
"Shut up!"
"Or a twelve year old in Grandpa's old church suit!"
"Stop laughing, Ellie!"
I heard the approach of a store clerk. Still doubled over with laughter, I didn't look at her for a moment, while she was talking to Dean.
"Hmmm… It's the right size, but we might having something a little more in fashion. Let me go take a look."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Dean said. "My friend here is supposed to be helping but she'd rather laugh."
"But… the shoulders!" I squeaked, finally looking up, and that stopped me laughing immediately.
She was wearing an elf hat. With ears. Ugh.
December 5th
When I first started travelling with the boys, the very first time I had a bad day and got irritated, Dean made a remark suggesting it might be my time of the month. I kicked him in the shin. About a week after that, Dean discovered that stereotypes are not always accurate. I am not ever irritable when that time rolls around.
My personality doesn't change. Instead it amplifies. I become Ellie Plus. Needy, sulky, obsessed with junk food and highly emotionally vulnerable. I can still get on with things, keep hunting, go about my usual business. And you'd probably never know what was going on, unless you knew what signs to look for.
In December, it hit me the morning we left Portland, Oregon. For a drive to Tulsa. A minimum of twenty-four hours driving, so we could check out a ghost sighting. It was definitely a case. Five people, all total strangers, had witnessed a murder in a public park, and all five described the killer the same way. Including that he had vanished into thin air. We had good reason to go to Tulsa. I just didn't want to.
"Dean! Please pull over at the next gas station!"
"Again?! Come on Ellie, this is getting ridiculous."
"You want some more candy?" Sam asked, like he was bribing a child. "I got you those pineapple chocolate things."
I still needed to go to the bathroom again, but I perked up immediately at the thought of the pineapple things. "I still need a bathroom," I said. "But I'll take the candy anyway!"
Sam passed the bag back to me with a smile, and after I opened it, I immediately put four into my mouth at once, before holding the open bag out between the two of them.
"oo'ant so' Dee," I said, not caring what I'd been told about talking with my mouth full.
Dean took some, but it was small consolation for making him pull over yet again. He did, though, and after I went to the bathroom, I came back to the car to pop some more painkillers with some healthy coke to wash it down.
The boys had both stayed waiting in the car for me. It was a dump of a place, just two pumps and a cigarette counter along a lonely stretch of highway. All the same, they'd done their best, as Dean pointed out.
"Check it out, Ellie. They got one of those wooden Santas on the roof. Wooden Santa is probably the most fun they ever have here, huh?"
I was already in my seat, and just needed to grab my blanket and get comfy. I didn't mean to slam the door. It just sorta happened.
December 7th
"And when will you be checking out?" asked the receptionist. Her nametag said Francine.
"We don't know," Dean said.
"Okay. In that case, we'll need you to pay the first night in advance and take a credit card."
"Sure thing." Dean handed over a credit card made out to Gus Brackenholme. Sometimes he just threw random syllables together until it sounded like a name.
"So, what brings you to Tulsa?" Francine asked, while she ran the card.
"Business," I said, digging back into my bag of liquorice. "It's two Queens, right?"
"Right," she said, with a smile. Probably wondering which one of the guys I was sleeping with. They usually did. Francine was a busty blonde, so I could bet Dean would make out like Sam and I were together. He usually did. "Well, you gotta check out the light show!" she said. "Out west, the whole neighbourhood puts up Christmas lights for the whole of December. Pretty spectacular."
"Sounds awesome," I said, leaving Dean to flirt with her while I went outside to stand in the cold with Sam. Screw the weather, I needed fresh air.
As the door swung behind me, I could still hear Dean. "My sister-in-law. She hates long drives. Make her cranky."
December 9th
"To a job well done!" said Moira, holding up her beer.
We all clanked our bottles against hers. The trouble in Tulsa had turned out to be the demolition of a graveyard disturbing a bunch of spirits. They'd been contained for years, getting madder and less human, and the bulldozers had let them out. It had taken nine hunters, arriving in four separate groups. But we had pulled it off. For us all to work together was a miracle, really.
Four drinks later and I was ready to call it a night. Moira and her husband, Casey were okay. Good people. They knew my father and I'd met them before at Ellen's. There was Annie. I'd known her for years. I had a strong suspicion she and my father had history, but that wasn't something I wanted to think about. Then there were the three cousins. All of them were kinda cute, but not in Sam and Dean's league. Not that it mattered.
"You seem kinda bored," said one of them, a blue-eyed blonde Viking throwback called Joey.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just tired."
"If you want to head back to the motel, I don't mind walking you."
I looked away from my beer and up at him. It was possible that didn't mean what I thought it meant. Until I felt his hand on my knee under the table.
"Sorry," I said. "I don't go home with other hunters."
His hand slipped up a little higher, as he leant into me. "That's not what I've heard."
He was on the ground within seconds, with his other hand wrapped around his snapped wrist. I was pretty sure I'd pulled hard enough. I'd definitely heard the crack.
"I said no," I repeated.
His cousins had got down on the ground on either side of him, before they'd even entirely processed what had happened. Sam and Dean were up and flanking me, and Annie moved towards me too. Moira and Casey seemed more nervous and sat back, watching the unfolding scene.
"You okay?" Dean asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "But I want to head back. Could one of you please come?"
"I'm done anyway," Dean said, and Sam agreed. They both threw down the last of their beers while Joey's cousins were helping him up.
"Annie, Casey, Moira… A pleasure," Sam said. "Call if you ever need anything."
It can't have been more than sixty seconds after I'd knocked Joey to the ground before I was moving towards the door, Sam to one side and Dean in front of me.
"You bitch!" Joey called after me. "Didn't your mama teach you any manners?"
Not even Sam's strength could hold me back.
December 11th
"It's cold as balls, Dean! How long is this gonna take?"
"You could help, Princess!"
Ha! I'd tried to help Dean under the hood of the Impala, but he said I didn't understand his baby like he did. Probably not, but I wasn't going to just hand him wrenches all afternoon. My father was a mechanic, same as his. In fact, my father probably taught him at least as much about cars as his own did.
"Yeah, I'll bring you beer and sandwiches."
If my choices were giving the kind of help Dean wanted or sitting around waiting for him to be done, then I was happier sitting in the car with the doors open. It let the chill in, but at least it wasn't snowing for once. Sam was a little way off from the road, doing something private, but when he came back he'd help Dean. He was learning how to fix the car, and it hurt to think about why.
"You used to bake me cookies," Dean said. "What happened to sundress and cookie Ellie?"
I shrugged. Sundress and cookie Ellie still existed. But not for the likes of Dean Winchester. We had definitely become friends, and we got along great most of the time. I trusted him with my life and he knew what shampoo to buy me. But he was not worth baking cookies for.
"Dream on, darlin'! I still make a mean chocolate chip, but you're getting squat!"
He looked up from the engine for a second, and grinned at me. "Yeah, but if you're making them for Sam, I'll get a couple."
Oh God, not again! Dean had been on a serious "Sammy's Little Girlfriend" kick the past fortnight and I'd had just about enough of it. My temper was increasingly short.
"Fuck off," I muttered.
"Well that's not nice! Where's your Christmas spirit?"
I got my legs back inside the car and slammed the door.
December 13th
"What the hell kind of spirit haunts a department store?" I moaned.
Breaking into the place hadn't been easy, and it was cold again. At least black turtlenecks and balaclavas retain heat, right?
"These old rich guys, they don't want to let the business go when they die," Dean said. "Okay… Sam, you check menswear. I'll stay here. Ellie, head to Santa's Grotto."
I sighed and considered beating Dean's head in with my torch.
"Okay," he went on, gesturing at me to head on over to the Santa display. "Scream if he attacks you."
December 15th
Even though I'd used the hairdryer to prevent dripping cold water all over me, I was still shivering a little as I came out of the bathroom. The boys had brought in both my blankets, and left them for me on top of my bag. After folding up the dirty clothes and putting them away, I unravelled both blankets. I threw myself down onto the crappy little sofa next to Sam, and covered myself up, starting with my toes. I should have got socks, but that would mean getting up again.
Sam put his hand under the blankets, feeling my foot. His hand was so warm! "You're freezing, Pea."
"The bathroom has one of those windows that won't close all the way. And no heating!"
"Damn. Morning's gonna be fun."
"I had to use the hairdryer on my whole body! Anything on TV?"
"Typical Saturday night stuff. Crime Investigation Murder Team or whatever. Couple of movies. We got It's a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street."
The sound out of my mouth was something between a groan and a growl. "Oh God! Can I borrow a book?"
December 17th
"Oh come on!" Dean hollered. He had beeped the horn more in the previous two hours than I had ever heard in all the time I'd been riding in his backseat.
"It's no good beeping, Dean, they can't move. It's total gridlock."
Although Sam was completely correct, Dean seemed to find this contribution more aggravating. He leant on the horn for a full two seconds, shouting "I KNOW SAM!" at the top of his lungs.
"Wow… that was mature…" I muttered.
"Don't you start too," Dean said, turning around to face me. "New rule. Driver beeps the horn as much as he wants, everyone else shuts the hell up!"
It had been two hours and we had only moved a few hundred metres. Everyone was irritable and I probably wasn't the only one who kinda needed to pee.
But I'd appointed myself responsible for morale and stopping those boys killing each other, so maybe this was a situation for what Sam called "aggressive optimism".
"Hey, who knows when it's gonna clear? Could be soon. Why don't we turn on the radio?" We'd gone through both sides of Motorhead and had started the second side of a Zeppelin cassette, and great music though it was, it obviously wasn't helping.
"A traffic report will just piss Dean off more," Sam said. "They always do."
Dean muttered agreement.
"Well, it depends how you look at it!" I said. "Even if it's bad news, you can use that to plan a strategy. Maybe if we turn off somewhere, that'll help. Or it could be clearing up soon. Either way, we can plan if we know everything, right?"
"Right," Dean said. "You got a point."
He reached over and ejected the cassette from the radio. Zeppellin stopped suddenly, replaced by something much much worse than a bad traffic report.
Frosty the Snowman was alive as he could be and the children say…
Crap.
December 19th
The sounds from the bathroom were horrific. It sounded like Dean was possessed. And not in a realistic black-eyed kind of way. More like in The Exorcist, with the hacking and the groaning and the swearing. Possibly the head spinning too. Definitely the gross part.
I pushed the door open carefully and tiptoed in.
"Hey… how's it going, sweetie?"
"Ah, I feel like crap, Ellie…" said Dean, clinging onto the toilet as though it were a life raft. "I think I'm… Blaaaaaargh!"
Before he could finish the sentence, he was shuddering his way through another vomiting fit. Unable to do anything to help the poor guy, I just put a hand on his back and rubbed up and down softly. It always helped me feel better to know someone cared that I was feeling sick.
It took so much out of him to vomit that he couldn't even reach up to flush the toilet again and I had to do it for him.
"Sam'll be back soon," I said. "He called before, and he's bringing back something to settle your stomach, and something for the fever too, okay?"
"Okay," he said, sitting upright again as he got his breath back.
I kept rubbing his back. You're never too old to want the soothing feeling of someone who cares about you. Not when you're sick.
"You can't have much left in there," I said. "It'll be better once your stomach's empty. You want me to get you anything? Some water, get the taste out of your mouth?"
"Yeah," he said, still trying to regain some breath. "Thanks, Princess." It wasn't an insult anymore. It was just a nickname.
"Anytime," I said, getting back on my feet. "I know how crappy it is being sick. You just stay there, and I'll get you some water, okay?"
"Ellie?"
"Yup?"
"I'm sorry I vomited on your blankets. And your pillow."
I smiled. It was pretty gross, but it could all be washed, and Sam had promised to take everything straight to the laundromat after he got back with Dean's medicines.
"Aw, honey, don't even worry about it. Just try to feel better okay."
"Where'd you get so good at this?" he asked. "Your mom good at this stuff?"
"Probably," I said, with a shrug, and hurrying out to get the water before he asked any further questions.
December 21st
It rang five times before he answered. He was probably upstairs. It was getting late.
"Hello?" I hadn't heard his gruff voice in so long. I'd never gone so long without speaking to my father. Never. Just hearing him was like being at home.
"Hi, Daddy…"
"Ellie! Sweetheart, are you okay? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry I yelled, Dad, I…"
But I couldn't contain myself anymore. I'd been holding it in since the grocery store and the candy canes. Sam and Dean were out, it was just me, sitting on a bed and talking to my father. It was okay. If it was going to happen, this might as well be the time. I burst into tears…
