AN: This has been a very long week, I hope everyone's doing okay. Not much to say this time, just wanna thank everyone for leaving such great reviews!
Oh, Alicat95: I've always been fascinated by the dynamic between Klaus and Elena. There's a physicality in the way that Joseph Morgan plays their scenes that I can never get enough of. I was mostly playing into that. I know it's unusual in the TVD fandom, but I'll also remind you, I do have Klaus/Elena fics posted - and more to come. Don't worry though, this story is strictly Dean/Elena. Those scenes are just me writing the things I want to write.
Anyway, onto the chapter. Enjoy!
Addendum
(n.)
A thing to be added; an addition.
Chapter Sixteen
Nightmare
aka
People Are Strange When You're a Stranger
Saginaw, Michigan: May 2018
Sam is grateful when his nightmares about someone other than Jess, to his everlasting shame. As terrible as it is to see a man murdered by an invisible force, it's worse, seeing her like that.
He wakes up with a sense of urgency, and that drives him into action. He starts flicking on lights.
"Dean, we have to go."
Dean finally wakes, groggy. "What's going on? It's the middle of the night?"
Sam ignores him. "Where's Elena? We have to go."
Dean scoffs. "Hell if I know. What's this all about, Sammy?"
"We have to find her so we can go." Sam starts looking for his phone.
Elena answers on the fifth ring, sounding out of breath.
"Elena we have to go, where are you? We're coming to pick you up," Sam says all of this in one breath.
"Slow down. Where are we going?" she asks.
"Elena we have to go now!"
"Okay, I'll text you my location."
Sam manages to get Dean into the car so they swing by the address Elena sent, which turns out to be a diner. In some part of Sam's mind it registers as weird that she's not wearing running clothes but instead jeans, a tank top, boots, and a black leather jacket that she seems to have gotten in New Orleans. The rest of him is focused on his dream and getting to Michigan.
Dean is focused on Elena, as always, so he notices what Sam misses: her swollen mouth and messy hair. He grips the steering wheel tighter.
Sam makes the necessary calls and Dean drives. Elena ignores both of them.
"Sammy, relax, I'm sure it's just a nightmare," Dean says.
"Yeah, tell me about it," is Sam's tense reply.
"I mean it. You know, a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare." Dean continues on, trying to make his words into a reality just by speaking them. "This license plate, it won't check out, you'll see."
Sam shakes his head. "It felt different, Dean – real…like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica."
Dean tries vainly to stave off the fear creeping in.
"Well yeah, that makes sense, you're dreaming about our house, your girlfriend. This guy in your dreams, you ever seen him before?"
Sam's answer is immediate. "No."
Dean echoes him. "No. Exactly, why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan."
"I don't know," Sam snaps.
Elena speaks up finally.
"I believe you, Sam."
Dean frowns, glancing in the rearview mirror at Elena.
She's looking out the window, so still it's like she hasn't spoken. Her lips aren't swollen anymore, at some point she tamed her hair into a braid.
Sam gives her a grateful glance before being drawn back into his phone call.
"Yes, I'm here."
He listens for a moment, then glances over at Dean in distress.
"Jim Miller – Saginaw, Michigan," he repeats as he writes it down. "Do you have a street address?" Another moment of scribbling, then- "Got it. Thanks." He hangs up.
He sighs.
"It checks out." He looks over at Dean who looks troubled.
"How far are we?"
Dean glances at him before looking back at the road. "From Saginaw? A couple hours."
Sam looks back at the road. "Drive faster."
They arrive in Saginaw to a crime scene, that is, too late. They circle the block and park down the next street, returning on foot to join the crowd gathering and figure out what they know.
"What happened?" Sam asks.
"Suicide," a woman answers gravely. She shakes her head. "I can't believe it."
Dean and Sam exchange looks over her head. Elena stares vaguely at the flashing police lights.
It's only hitting Sam now that it's too late to save Jim Miller that Elena is behaving even more abnormally than usual.
"Did you know him?" Sam asks, because she doesn't.
"Saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine's," is her prompt reply. "He always seems-" She stops, corrects herself. "Seemed so normal. Guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."
"Guess not," Dean replies.
"How did, uh," Sam hesitates. "How are they saying it happened?"
"I heard they found him in the garage," she says delicately. "Locked inside his car with the engine running."
Elena normally would've stopped Sam before he asked his next question, but she seems transfixed by the lights.
"Do you know about what time they found him?"
The woman gives him a curious look before answering.
"Oh, it just happened an hour or two ago." She sighs. "His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."
The irony is, the people she is addressing can imagine, have lived it.
On the porch, a woman cries into a man's chest while a sullen young man looks on. Sam leaves abruptly.
"Is your girlfriend all right?" the woman asks Dean.
He looks over at Elena. She is not wearing the immaculate porcelain mask of the perfect girl she dons when she's trying to hide. She is wipe blank, exhausted eyes, sad mouth, it bites into Dean and that makes him angry. That she can still make him feel like this, so protective and tender, when she won't even look at him.
"She's not my girlfriend," Dean says flatly, then to Elena, "Let's go."
She doesn't seem to hear him. Instead of looking at him, her head snaps in the opposite direction, staring wildly at the neighbor's backyard.
Dean moves closer.
"What is it?" he asks tensely, following her line of sight. He sees nothing.
She looks at him, seemingly startled to find him standing next to her.
"Nothing," she says, her voice that cracking monotone that haunts his dreams. It's always been as if she's fighting between forcing emotion into her voice and failing, and trying desperately to hide her feelings and failing at that, too. He can never tell which one it actually is.
He looks at her sharply.
She shrugs, face drawn tight with something that looks suspiciously like fear. "I just thought I saw someone, that's all."
Elena seems to disappear again as soon as they get to a motel. At least this time she changes into her running clothes and Dean's jaw doesn't look like it's going to crack. Sam can't find it in him to attempt to join her. All he can think about is how close they came to getting here in time.
Dean can see Sam is still upset.
"Sam, we got here as fast as we could."
Sam shakes his head stubbornly. "Not fast enough. It doesn't make any sense, man. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"
Dean is noncommittal. "I dunno."
"So what do you think killed him?" Sam asks, heading over to set his laptop up on the table.
"Maybe the guy just killed himself?" Dean suggests. "Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."
Sam shakes his head immediately. "I'm telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."
"What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?" Dean asks.
"I don't know what it was," Sam admits. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening, Dean."
Dean watches his brother's face in silence.
Sam looks over at him, frowning warily at the look on his face. "What?"
Dean shrugs. "Nothing. I'm just, I'm worried about you, man."
"Well, don't look at me like that!" Sam says harshly.
"I'm not looking at you like anything." Dean reassures him, then adds, "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."
Sam glares at him half-heartedly. "Nice. Thanks."
Dean closes his laptop.
"Come on, let's go to sleep, we can pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, talk to the family."
Sam looks doubtful. "Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us."
Dean nods. "Yeah you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to."
"Who?"
Dean shakes his head. "Tomorrow, we gotta sleep."
Sam hesitates, then, "What's wrong with Elena?"
Dean stiffens.
Sam clears his throat. "I mean, do you have any idea? Did something happen between the two of you?"
Dean's jaw twitches. "She's been like that since she got back from New Orleans, Sam. It's not my fault."
Sam shakes his head. "That's not what I meant." He tries again. "I know I was wasted but I'm pretty sure I heard you arguing."
"Drop it, Sam," Dean says sharply. "I think I know when something's wrong with my best friend. She'll tell us if she wants to, now go to sleep, Sam."
Sam is pretty sure Dean is right that it was something that happened in New Orleans that seemed to cause Elena to unravel. He's also pretty sure Dean is lying and something happened while Sam was passed out in a drunken stupor.
"Will you at least tell me how you plan on getting Jim Miller's family to talk to us?"
Sam isn't entirely sure how Dean talked him into dressing as a priest, but he's pretty sure they're going to hell. They're on the Millers' doorstep, bright and early and lacking their third.
"Why are we doing this without Elena?" Sam asks for the hundredth time.
Dean, tired of being questioned, is blunt. "She wouldn't have made a very convincing nun."
Before Sam can reply, Dean knocks on the door.
"This has gotta be a whole new low for us."
A man answers the door.
"Good Afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley. We're new junior priests over at St Augustine's. May we come in?" Dean tries to look as harmless as he possibly can.
Without a word, the man steps aside, allowing them in. The house is full of other people coming to give their condolences.
Dean remembers his manners even without Elena there to prompt him. "Thanks."
"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam offers soberly.
"It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed."
Sam swallows his snort as Dean lays it on thicker than molasses.
The man rolls his eyes.
"Look, you wanna pitch your whole 'Lord has a plan' thing? Fine. Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."
"Roger, Please!" An older blonde woman scolds him.
He grimaces, "excuse me," and takes his exit.
She wanders closer, casserole dish in hand.
"I'm sorry about my brother-in-law. He's...he's just so upset about Jim's death." She pauses, says the next sentence like it's breaking her heart. "Would you like some coffee?"
"That'd be great," says Dean with a smile.
"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now."
Alice Miller serves them coffee in dainty china cups, the porcelain so thin that the heat burns Sam's fingers.
"Of course. After all we are all God's children." Dean says serenely, smiling as he tugs at his collar.
She leaves them with a smile and an apology while she sees to her other guests.
Dean takes a mini hot dog, popping it in his mouth before glancing over at Sam who is staring at him.
"What?" he asks obliviously.
"Just...tone it down a little bit, Father," is Sam's only reply.
Dean rolls his eyes.
Sam wishes Elena was here. He also wishes Dean and Elena weren't fighting so her being here would be like before – when they communicated flawlessly and were always in sync. When Elena made Dean a better hunter and Dean made Elena seem like a possibility. She was grounded in reality at his side and with the rift between them she seems adrift, like she could take flight at any moment.
Jim's wife comes back, finding her guests don't need her after all, and takes a seat beside Dean.
"So Mrs. Miller, did you husband have a history of depression?" Dean asks, still chewing.
She shakes her head vehemently.
"Nothing like that." A pause and then she continues. "We had our ups and downs like everyone, but we were happy." Her face crumbles. "I just don't understand..." It takes a while for her to gather herself enough to finish her sentence. "How Jim could do something like this."
Dean and Sam exchange sober looks.
"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that," Sam says.
She sniffles, shaking her head again, pointing into the next room.
"Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him."
They follow her finger, finding the same young man from the porch, slouched in a chair in the far corner, away from everyone.
"Do you mind if maybe, I go talk to him?" Sam asks.
"Oh, thank you, Father." She smiles gratefully at him through her tears.
"Max? Hey, I'm Sam."
Max looks up at Sam with apathetic eyes.
He's been trying so hard to ignore it, but suddenly it's pressing in on him. That humming silence of a wake that Elena talked about way back in Toledo.
Dean gives Alice a tissue.
"Mrs. Miller you have a lovely home," he says quietly.
She smiles, wiping her eyes.
"How long have you lived here?"
She frowns, trying to remember. "We moved in about five years ago."
He shakes his head. "You know, the only problem with these old houses – I bet you have all kind of headaches."
"Like what?" She asks, puzzled.
He has a ready reply, naming a whole litany of possibilities. "Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night. That kind of thing."
She shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. It's been perfect."
"Huh." He looks away to hide his frustration. "May I use your restroom?" he asks.
She nods. "Oh sure, it's just up the stairs."
He takes another mini hotdog before he goes.
"So what was your dad like?" Sam asks.
Max shrugs. "Just a normal dad."
"Yeah," Sam says, seeing that Max doesn't want to give him anything more, he switches topics. "You live at home now?"
Max nods. "Yeah." For a moment it seems like he's going to stop at that, but then he adds, "I'm trying to save up for school but it's hard."
Something wrenches inside of Sam and he's never wished for anything as fiercely as he wishes Elena was in this room right now, sitting in front of Max and looking at him in the way that has always made Sam feel perfectly understood, perfectly accepted.
He clears his throat, trying to focus on the case.
He looks down at his hands, then back at Max. He smiles grimly, then gets to the point. "So when you found your dad..." he says delicately.
"I woke up. I heard the engine running. I don't know why he did it." Max looks away from Sam at the start of every sentence, gazing over his left shoulder before meeting Sam's eye, as if to drive each statement home.
Sam nods empathetically. "I know it's rough, losing a parent. Especially when you don't have all the answers."
Max's mouth quivers.
As soon as Dean is upstairs he begins a more thorough investigation, searching for any sign of paranormal activity.
He pauses, tucking his infrared thermal scanner into his jacket when he hears someone coming up the stairs. Sam comes into view.
"Anything?" he asks.
Dean shakes his head. "Zip."
"Really, Dean, really?"
Elena is waiting for them at the car, looking pissed. She barely blinks at their priest costumes.
Dean walks right past her to the driver's seat, pointedly ignoring the look on her face. Sam, on the other hand, has a much better sense of self-preservation.
"Uh, they didn't really have a nun's costume that wasn't slutty?" Sam offers half-heartedly.
Elena barely spares him a glance.
"So you're just going to leave me out of things because you're mad at me?"
Dean finally looks at her.
"You're sleeping even less than usual, which is frankly terrifying, I can't have you in some random people's house looking like you're gonna drop at any minute." Dean goes for cool logic, but it's not the truth, so it has no effect on Elena's ire.
"I'm fine," she says flatly. She cocks her head to the side, smiling at him with such sweetness that it makes Sam's stomach drop without knowing why. "Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean I don't get plenty of sleep."
Sam is confused, but Dean flinches.
"Good for you," he says shortly.
She no longer looks angry, just satisfied.
"So there's nothing to worry about." She scrunches her nose, bares her teeth. "Don't leave me out of it again."
They get back to the motel and Sam's question is quickly answered.
On the way, Sam and Sam alone filled Elena in on what they found out at the Millers'. Elena had been calm and to the point, only asking questions about the case, none of her usual jokes or verve, just cold focus.
Still, it might've been fine. They make it back to the motel room, ready to do research. Dean and Sam change out of their priest costumes as Elena flips through John's journal on the couch.
She's leaning forward to grab a pen from the coffee table, her tank top sliding up to bare her hips and Sam's not Dean, he isn't looking, so he misses it, but he doesn't miss the startled and then dark look that crosses Dean's face before he slams out of the room without a word.
Sam looks over at Elena, confused. Since he's Sam and not Dean, it takes him longer to see, but he gets there eventually. Elena's shirt reveals that her usually flawless tan skin is marred by two hand-shaped bruises, one on each hip.
Sam starts, feeling sick.
"Elena, what happened? Who in the hell did that to you? Are you okay?"
He's so far out of his league that he missed the taunting, challenging – defensive – smirk Elena had given Dean before he'd fled.
Elena gives Sam a pitying look now.
"Sam," she says gently but firmly, tugging her shirt down over her hips. He meets her gaze. "I'm fine," she says, still in the same tone.
He starts shaking his head, opening his mouth to protest.
Not in the mood to wait out Sam getting there himself, Elena cuts him off with the truth.
"I'm fine because I really, really liked it," She says firmly, not at all ashamed.
Sam almost swallows his tongue, and not in a fun way.
"Oh," he utters quietly. "Oh," he says again with more understanding.
She nods. "Yup," she says simply.
He swallows, suddenly realizing the significance between the exchange about Elena's sleeping arrangements between Dean and Elena. Going back further, he remembers picking her up outside of the diner, she'd been in her regular clothes. Sam turns bright red, suddenly remembering the state of her hair and her swollen mouth.
He feels a sudden rush of sympathy and frustration with his brother.
"This never would've happened if Dean and Cassie just-"
Elena is already shaking her head. "This has nothing to do with them."
He gives her a disbelieving look.
She looks back at him, completely honest. "It would've happened even if that had never happened."
"No." Sam is now the one shaking his head in denial, but Elena won't let him live in his fantasy.
"Yes, even if Dean never saw Cassie again, I'd still need this."
She cocks her head to the side, admits shamelessly, "I would've hidden it better, if that hadn't have happened, but I'd still do it."
Sam can only stare at her, uncomprehending. "What happened in New Orleans?" He blurts out suddenly. He sucks in a breath, cursing himself.
Letting out a breath, he clarifies. "I just meant, before, it sort of seemed like you and Dean might be…" he considers his words carefully. "Heading somewhere," is what he finally settles on.
She considers him, then tells him the truth.
"Maybe we were, but we shouldn't have been. Nothing really happened in New Orleans. It was just a wakeup call." She shrugs. "I have other commitments."
Sam wonders if she's talking about Michaelson. She seemed comfortable with him on the phone, and she'd doted on his kid, maybe that was where Elena really wanted to be. He's almost convinced himself when he realizes that Elena had just admitted that the dynamic between herself and Dean had almost changed.
He decides to be direct.
"So you have someone in New Orleans?" he asks.
She shakes her head. "No," she says simply.
Seeing that he isn't going to get very far, he drops it.
Dean makes it back to the motel eventually and joins them in their research, steadfastly refusing to look at Elena, who maintains a cool, unphased façade like it's her job.
Secretly, Sam is glad Dean is back. Anytime Sam is alone with Elena now, he just feels an overwhelming amount of guilt at convincing his brother to go behind her back and tell him what he knows about her life. Hearing about how the accident that landed her firmly on the run and how it ended in the tragic death of her friend, Matt, is more than Sam was ready to hear.
He expected something bad, he hadn't expected how guilty it would make him feel to know that she'd almost been turned into a vampire by a well-meaning doctor and how it'd taken Dean nearly a week to get Elena to eat a full meal afterwards. Dean had looked almost physically pained as he explained that Elena's ex at the time was an addict who played mind games with her and who's older brother was obsessed with her and how she'd once cried inconsolably on the phone to him because the older brother kissed her when she didn't want to be kissed.
Then the stories of horror surrounding Elena's brother, Jeremy, who'd died and been resurrected by a witch; which had given him the power to talk to the dead and had caused Elena to send him away to Colorado and away from all of their ghosts in a last ditch attempt to protect him. How slowly, she'd been more and more isolated and to this day, John and Elena did not talk about what happened to Alaric Saltzman. Alaric, who was supposed to keep Elena safe. Alaric, who was already a blackened name by the time Dean stepped foot in Mystic Falls again.
Finally, bone-chillingly, the story of the scarecrow and Elena's panic attack when she realized they were going to be sacrificed. How it scared her in a way nothing did, not even water. How it had made Dean look afresh at some of Elena's first conversations with his dad. Elena Gilbert, at seventeen, had been sacrificed. Jenna Sommers had probably been sacrificed with her, maybe even John Gilbert. Sam is still pondering her resurrection and why exactly she might've been sacrificed.
He ponders, but he also feels so guilty sometimes he can barely look Elena in the eye. So he's glad Dean is back, glad so he doesn't trip up and start spouting apologies because he violated her privacy.
Sam focuses all of his being on this case because that's what they're here for and because if he spends even one more minute wondering what else Elena is hiding under her clothes he might actually have to drink bleach – or you know, something slightly less dramatic.
Except – okay, he knows Dean goes home with other girls – not that he approves, but he knows. He even knows that sometimes Elena doesn't come back to the motel until late on those nights or even sometimes not until morning. And yeah, it's suddenly occurring to him that often on those nights he goes back to the motel room early and Elena is still at the bar, chatting with the bartender until last call. Maybe Sam is just naïve, or maybe he didn't want to see it, but it doesn't fit in his head.
All he sees is Dean and Elena, who fit together perfectly, and won't even look at each other right now.
By now Dean is cleaning his shotgun – a sure sign of agitation and Sam is running out of patience with this case.
"So what do you have?" Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head. "A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built." He pins a paper to the wall, a tactic he only resorts to when he's desperate. He pauses, waiting for Elena's crazy-ass-murderer wall comments. She doesn't look up from her book.
"What about the land?" Dean asks.
"No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property," Sam lists in monotone.
It's a lot less fun when it's all business, no Elena cracking jokes and Dean getting carried away with them until the two of them are snickering and Sam feels like a grade school teacher trying to keep his easily distracted 8-year-olds on track.
"Hey man, I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent. Nada." Dean finishes assembling the shotgun, moves onto his handgun.
Sam sits down on his bed. "And the family said everything was normal?"
"Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infrared thermal scanner man, and there was nothing."
Dean is so calm about it all, but Sam can barely hide his frustration.
"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?"
Dean shrugs. "I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."
Elena scoffs.
Attention snaps over to her.
"Do you have something to share with the class, Elena?" Dean asks dryly.
"Uh yeah, everything you just said is bullshit," she says instantly.
Dean raises an eyebrow, refusing to be baited.
"Oh yeah?"
She nods. "Yeah. Not everything supernatural is picked up by infrared, Dean."
He scoffs. "You don't know that."
She gets up, grabbing the infrared scanner without a word. She marches up to Dean, pointing it at him. It gives a normal reading for a human.
"I'm not supernatural."
She ignores him, pointing it at herself. Once again, it gives a normal reading for a human.
"Clearly neither are you."
Still ignoring him, she whips around pointing it at Sam.
Both brothers tense up.
"Elena-" Dean starts seriously.
Sam instinctively rears back, away from her.
Elena presses the button. A third time, it gives a normal reading for a human.
They both stare at her.
"Sam has prophetic dreams. The definition of supernatural is an event attributed to some force beyond scientific understanding or the laws of nature."
She puts the scanner away. "This is just something we don't understand yet."
Sam nods, actually motivated by her speech, relaxing his posture as he ponders her point.
"Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house." He frowns, squinting and rubbing his head. He forges on. "Maybe it's just…Gosh… maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?"
He nearly keels over, clutching his head between his hands.
"What's wrong with you?" Dean asks.
"Ahh. My head." Sam can feel Elena's hand on one of his, the other on his back. She's beside him on the bed.
"Sam? Hey, Hey! What's going on? Talk to me." Dean demands, kneeling in front of him, hands wrapped around Sam's forearms.
Sam sees it all playing out before him in his head, Roger Miller getting home from work. The window that just keeps opening itself. Roger trying in vain to close it. Roger sticking his head out to get a closer look. The way it falls like a guillotine.
"It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."
Sam rattles off Roger Miller's address to Dean as they drive.
"You okay?" Dean asks.
"Yeah," Sam replies shortly, still feeling the after effects of his vision.
"If you're gonna hurl I'll pull the car over you know, 'cause the upholstery…" Dean's words should be lighthearted, but his tone is too heavy to pull it off.
"I'm fine," Sam says firmly.
"All right." Dean glances at him warily.
"Just drive," Sam instructs.
After a moment, Sam starts to speak. "I'm scared. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."
"Come on man, you'll be all right. It'll be fine." Dean's tone is so calm that it agitates Sam further.
"What is it about the Millers? Why am I connected to them? Why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?" Sam bursts out.
He's almost startled when Elena puts a hand on his shoulder. He looks back at her. She gives him a grim smile of understanding. He relaxes slightly under her touch and her compassion.
"I don't know Sam but we'll figure it out. We've faced the unexplainable every day," Dean says shortly. "Hell, the unexplainable is currently riding in the backseat-"
"Hey, uncalled for!" Elena says.
Dean ignores her. "This is just another thing."
Sam refuses to be comforted. "No. It's never been us. It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out."
Dean is quiet.
"This doesn't freak me out."
Elena squeezes Sam's shoulder. "Dean is right, I'm much more unexplainable than you," she says, her voice light and teasing. He almost wants to laugh, but really, it's almost worse that Elena is willing to set aside her anger at Dean in order to make Sam feel better.
They catch sight of Roger walking down the street with some groceries.
"Stop the car," Elena says suddenly.
Dean looks at her like she's crazy.
"He's never met me," she says simply. "I'll tell him my phone died and I got in a fight with my boyfriend, ask if I can borrow his phone. I'll get him to invite me in and I'll call Dean to give the all clear or sound the alarm for help, okay?"
Dean nods, not looking reassured as he usually would. Still, he pulls the car over a good distance behind Roger.
Elena jumps out of the backseat. As she's closing the door she gets distracted by something across the street. All of the blood seems to drain right of her face. She looks like she's seen a ghost, despite the cliché that is in their business.
"Elena?" Sam is concerned. He glances in the direction she's looking, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he turns back.
Dean is focused on the task. "Elena, he's almost to his building, what the hell are you doing?"
Snapping back into reality, Elena takes off after Roger.
"Excuse me, sir!" She calls after him.
Sam and Dean watch as she walks up to him, frantically waving her hands and looking all together helpless and charming.
Roger actually smiles at her. He nods, then indicates with his head that she should follow him.
With a glance back at them, Elena follows him.
Dean shakes his head. "Unbelievable." He snorts.
Sam almost smiles. "That's Elena Gilbert for ya."
"You're telling me," Dean grumbles.
They wait in tense silence. Time seems to stretch on. Dean starts to get restless.
"She would've called by now," he finally says, then practically wrenches his door open and sprints out of the car.
Trusting Dean's instincts, Sam follows.
Around back they find a fire escape, Dean takes the stairs three at a time, barely bothering to count floors. When they get to his floor, Roger's head is in his flowerbox, just like Sam saw in his vision.
Dean opens the other window and climbs in, single-mindedly focused on finding Elena. Sam follows, equally worried about Elena, and equally unable to stare another minute at Roger's head.
They find Elena, slumped against the wall near the front door, unmoving, Roger's phone next to her on the floor. Crouched beside her, Dean is visibly shaking when he reaches out a hand to check for a pulse. His knees give out and then he just collapses, pulling her to him, tucking her head under his chin, gathering her up into his arms.
"She's got a pulse, she's fine, she's okay, she's gonna be okay," Dean mumbles into her hair, rocking her back and forth.
Sam can feel his own knees go weak with relief.
Seeing that Elena is being well taken care of by his brother, Sam sets off to examine the apartment.
Dean manages to get Elena out through the window and down the fire escape to the car. Sam cleans up all of the evidence that they might've been there, wiping away fingerprints and carefully closing the window behind him. Dean is in the backseat with Elena practically in his lap, so Sam takes the hint and gets into the driver's seat. Dean hands over the keys and they drive away.
"Elena, wake up," he says hoarsely, begging her. He strokes his fingers down her cheeks. "C'mon Gilbert, c'mon."
Sam keeps his focus on the road, anything to distract himself from the distinct red smudging on Dean's hands from cradling her head. It's only when Sam glances back at them during a red light that Sam realizes there is a growing bloodstain on his jeans where her head is resting.
"Dean," he says, horrified.
"I know, Sammy, just keep driving," Dean says tensely.
"But-"
"Elena always has vampire blood, Sam-" Dam interrupts him. "It's not in her boot where she usually keeps it so that means it's back at the motel. We left so quickly, she must've forgotten. Just get us there, okay."
Sam stops obeying traffic laws after that. They squeal into the parking lot and Sam barely remembers to put her in park before he's diving out of the car and tearing open the door for Dean.
Dean practically kicks the door in, barely giving Sam a chance to unlock it. He stumbles in after him.
"Where would it be?" Sam asks quickly.
"Uh, check her purse," Dean replies. He sets Elena down on the bed, dashes over to the bathroom to grab a towel before climbing up onto the bed next to her, pressing the towel to her wound.
Sam doesn't have time to feel guilty as he rifles through her bag. He's secure that under the circumstances, Elena would understand. His finger brushes again something at the bottom of her bag, feeling smooth glass, he grabs blindly at it.
"Got it," he says, dropping her bag and hurrying over to hand it to Dean.
Now that he's looking at her properly, Elena looks much worse for wear. She's breathing shallowly and limp in Dean's arms. Her skin is bleached of color.
"She doesn't look like she could swallow anything, Dean…"
Dean nods grimly. "Yeah, I'm getting that," he says shortly. "Go back to the car, get the first aid kit."
Sam doesn't wait to find out what Dean's planning, he simply pivots and dashes out of the room and out to the car. He finds the first aid kit and rushes back in.
Dean pulls out the still-packaged syringe John insisted on. Seeing that Dean can't hold Elena and fill the syringe at the same time, Sam takes over for him.
Kneeling next to the bed, he opens the syringe, uncaps the needle, then the vial. Carefully he fills the syringe with blood, remembering how to prevent fatal air bubbles, all of the things his dad taught him.
"Okay, it's ready." Sam is surprised to find his hands aren't shaking at all.
Dean lifts her hair out of the way, tapping on her jugular, "faster it gets there, the better," he mutters.
Sam nods. He injects quickly, not letting himself think.
Elena blooms like a rose, almost instantaneously color floods back into her face. A moment longer and her breathing deepens. She sighs, one of her shoulders twitches and Dean seems to go boneless.
Her eyes flutter open.
"You're never going anywhere alone ever again, Gilbert," Dean says hoarsely.
"It pushed me," she responds.
Sam almost wants to laugh. Trust Elena to stay laser focused on the case even when she almost died.
Dean strokes her face. "Did you see what it was?"
She shakes her head. "No, there was nothing there, Dean. It shoved me into the wall."
He nods. "Okay. How do you feel?"
She shrugs. "Like I drank vampire blood."
He grimaces apologetically. "Yeah, sorry, you weren't waking up though, and head wounds are serious."
She makes a face. "I know, Dean, I know."
Sam recognizes somewhat distantly that at some point he climbed up onto the bed with them. Dean and Elena are a tangle of limbs resting against the headboard. Elena wraps one of her hands around Dean's bicep, then reaches out for Sam. He clasps her hand in his, not at all surprised to find himself shaking.
"Hey, stop looking at me like that, Sam," she says with lighthearted reproach. "I'm not going to die. Dean might never let me leave this bed again, but I'm fine."
Sam nods mutely.
Dean smooths her hair back. "Hey, Dad made you stay in a boring hospital room for two days last time. I'd say a motel room is a step up."
"Are you gonna bring me Fudge Delight and Grape Vines again?" she asks teasingly.
"And extra fries for throwing," he responds seriously.
Sam can't quite smile, not yet, it's too soon, but it's reassuring to see them act like Dean and Elena again. It's nice to know that they're not so angry at each other that a good near death experience can't bring them together.
"I'm telling you there was nothing in there. No signs either, just like the Miller's house," Sam is saying.
Sam and Dean are talking about the case. Sam is seated at the table, Dean leaning against the headboard next to Elena's sleeping figure. Periodically he reaches out a hand to smooth her hair out of her face or touch his fingers to her steadying pulse.
Sam continues, "I saw something, in the vision. Like a dark shape. Something was…something was stalking Roger."
"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?" Dean asks
Sam shakes his head decisively. "No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?"
"Well yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."
Sam nods. "Angiak. Banshees."
Dean continues his train of thought. "Basically like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse-worthy."
"And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying."
Sam tilts his chair back until he can see Elena's face. She looks serene in her sleep. He relaxes, righting his chair.
Dean's given up on the pretense, he's absentmindedly stroking Elena's hair, thumb brushing against her cheek occasionally.
"Hey, you think Max is in danger?" Sam asks after a long moment.
Dean considers this. "Let's figure it out before he is."
"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people," Sam says sardonically.
"What's that?" Dean asks.
Sam scoffs. "Both our families are cursed."
Dean protests, keeping his voice low so not to wake Elena. "Our family's not cursed! We just…had our dark spots."
Sam laughs darkly. "Our dark spots are…pretty dark."
"You're…dark," Dean replies somewhat lamely. He's more focused on Elena anyway.
"The things that happened to her family," he says, his voice low. "That's a real curse. That's real darkness."
Sam shivers, feeling overwhelmed by guilt again.
"Do you know what the Gilbert family curse is?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
It's written in his notebook along with all of the other things Dean had told him about Elena, but there was no context beyond Elena mentioning it once or twice in a joking way. Elena's jokes are a sure pretext that there's some truth to it.
Dean shakes his head. "Not really, just that it has something to do with their rings – you know the ones that bring them back from the dead if they're killed by a supernatural force?"
Sam nods in recognition, remembering Elena mentioning them.
"She said something about the consequences being dire?"
Dean nods. "What I know about Gilbert ancestors suggests it's bad. Most of 'em went crazy, got tossed into loony bins." He pauses painfully long. "A few committed suicide. She's really scared for Jeremy, since he wears one of the rings."
Sam takes it all in, committing it to memory in order to write it down later.
For now, they have a more pressing case to worry about.
Dean is out getting Elena all of her favorite snacks before he and Sam go to talk to Max. Elena is doing a remarkable job at pretending she isn't pouting about being left out of the hunt now that any danger could potentially end with her waking up as a vampire.
At some point they have to contemplate the fact that someone might've seen Elena go into the building with Roger, a neighbor might've even seen her go into his apartment. She could be a person of interest in his death. Right now, they have to focus on making sure Max isn't in danger. So overall, it's better that Elena keep out of sight.
"Sam?"
He looks over at her, still curled up in bed, with a book in her lap. "I need to tell you more about what happened in Roger's apartment, in case it's relevant."
Sam frowns. "Okay, what happened?"
She must hear the unspoken part of his question in his voice because she answers it.
"I don't know how well Dean is going to keep his cool when he hears, so I thought I'd wait until this is over."
Sam nods. "Fair enough."
At her gesture he comes to sit at the end of her bed.
She clears her throat. "Um, as soon as I got into the apartment, Roger backed me up against the wall."
Sam goes still.
Elena doesn't look upset, just focused on the facts. "My shirt slipped up and he saw the bruises, so he put his hand on my hip and squeezed. He said he I looked like the kinda girl who knows how to have fun."
Sam is visibly upset, Elena gives him a steady look.
"Sam, I could've kicked his ass, we both know that."
He nods, exhaling. "Yeah, right."
"The thing is, before I could do anything, something pulled him back."
Sam cocks his head to the side.
"Not metaphorically or anything, literally he was pulled away from me and thrown into the kitchen." She shakes her head. "I never saw anyone, and I didn't see what happened to Roger. Whatever it was threw me against the wall before it killed him. I don't think whatever it was wanted any witnesses."
Sam absorbs her story. "So it pulled him off you and knocked you out?"
She nods. "Yeah. I can't figure it out. What I do know is that Roger Miller was not a nice guy."
Sam shakes his head. "No, he wasn't."
Once again they're inside the immaculate, sterile Miller house, wearing their priest costumes.
"My mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked," Max says, leading them into the living room.
"Of course," Dean says, examining the room.
"All these people kept coming with like, casseroles?"
Dean and Sam look into the dining room where Max is staring. The table is covered in casserole dishes.
"I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know 'cause nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tuna casserole." Max scoffs.
Sam tries really hard not to laugh and fails. Elena really has corrupted his sense of humor.
Still, this draws a smile out of Max who gestures for them to sit down.
"How you holding up?" Sam asks
"I'm okay."
"Your dad and your uncle were close?" Sam asks.
Max nods.
"Yeah I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."
"But not lately much?" Sam asks. It's not like they planned on him asking most of the questions, but he knows Dean would rather be back in the hotel room with Elena, where the reality of her survival is made a solid fact by her presence.
"No, it's not that. It's just…we used to be neighbors when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."
"Right." Sam remembers Elena telling him exactly who Roger Miller is. "So how was it in that house when you were a kid?"
Dean gives Sam a sideways glance.
"Fine," Max says with little intonation. "Why?"
Dean seems to bring himself back to reality, to the case. "All good memories? You remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?"
Max gives them a mirthless smile, his head shaking at his own volition. "Why do you…why do you ask?"
Sam stares, seeing the way he seems to get more flustered and defensive. Something had happened.
"Just a question," Dean says innocuously.
He takes a breath and for a second Sam thinks he's going to start crying but then Max seems to recover. "No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy," he says this with the well-practiced ease of someone who has said it hundreds of times.
Sam's faked it enough times to recognize it when it's lying its ass off in front of him.
"Good. That's good." Dean must see it too, because it ends it abruptly. "Well you must be exhausted. We should take off."
"Right," Sam says somewhat reluctantly. Part of him wants to stay and see if Max has more to say. "Thanks."
Max's response comes out voiceless. "Yeah."
"Nobody's family is totally normal and happy," Dean says as they walk to the car.
Sam agrees. "Like Elena said, just because something looks normal, doesn't mean it is."
Dean nods. "You see when he was talking about his old house?"
"He sounded scared," Sam replies, thinking about the kind of man Roger Miller showed himself to be behind closed doors. What did it mean for Max? What kind of uncle was he?
"Yeah. Max isn't telling us everything," Dean pulls off his collar, unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt before his gets into the driver's seat. "I say we go find the old neighborhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."
They do a quick pit stop back at the room to change, check up on Elena, and do a quick google search for the Millers' old address.
Elena is asleep, clutching Dracula to her chest like a teddy bear. Dean takes one look at her and pulls out his phone to take pictures for Jeremy.
"She reads that book a lot," Sam observes, smiling at how clearly smitten his brother is.
Dean nods. "Yeah, she always has fun reading it. She hates when Lucy dies, but Quincey shooting Dracula as the bat outside Lucy's window never fails to make her laugh."
Sam starts laughing too. "I forgot how ridiculous that book is."
Dean laughs too. "Tell me about it. She's read it so many times I think I know the plot backwards and forwards. I think Quincey is her favorite."
Sam considers this. "I never realized how much of a Quincey you are."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh jeez, you sound like Elena."
Sam grins at that.
"Well now we know it's true."
He considers Elena for a second.
"What?" Dean asks, noticing his confused look.
"Nothing." Sam shakes his head. "Just – isn't vampire blood supposed to make you high or whatever?" He shifts uncomfortably.
Dean nods. "Yeah, actually it is."
"So how is she sleeping?" Sam feels lost.
Dean snorts. "Sam, at this point, Elena's probably had her weight in vampire blood. The most she gets is a headache."
Sam frowns. "That's deeply concerning."
Dean nods fervently. "Tell me about it."
"Have you lived in the neighborhood very long?" Sam asks.
He and Dean are standing on the sidewalk, the man they're talking to is raking his yard.
Leaning against his rake, the man nods. "Yeah, almost 20 years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"
Sam shakes his head. "No. No, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe."
Dean adds, "Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy called Max."
"Right," Sam says, nodding.
Already, the man looks uneasy. His tone becomes short. "Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door." He points behind them, both Sam and Dean following his direction.
The man clears his throat. "So, uh, what's this about, is that poor kid okay?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.
The man hesitates bunt finally answers.
"Well, in my life I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of." The condemnation in his tone is evident.
Dean and Sam exchange a grim look.
"This was going on regularly?" Sam asks.
"Practically every day."
Sam looks away, overcome.
"In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good." The frustration wars with the resignation in his tone. Even all these years later, he can't reconcile the two.
"Now you said stepmother," Dean says.
He nods. "I think his real mother died. Some sorta…accident. Car accident I think."
Sam can feel that pressure cooker feeling starting in his head again, a headache like a boiling point, waiting to split him in two. He clutches his head.
The man is about to continue when he looks over at Sam. "Are you ok, there?" he asks, concerned.
"Uh, yeah," Sam manages to grit out between clenched teeth.
"Thanks for your time," Dean says, reaching out to Sam.
Sam nods vigorously, still clutching his head. "Yeah, thank you."
Dean helps him to the car.
It all plays out in his head, burning through him like wildfire. Max's plan to murder his stepmother for her negligence. The knife hovering in midair, spurred on by Max's pain.
"That's right, you didn't do anything."
They're driving back to the motel to check on Elena one more time. It had clearly been dinnertime in Sam's vision, so they have a few more hours before Max tries to kill his stepmom.
"Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing," Sam says grimly.
"You sure about this?" Dean asks, his tone short.
Sam nods. "Yeah, I saw him."
"How's he pulling it off?" Dean sounds genuinely perplexed.
"I don't know, like telekinesis?" Sam guesses.
"What so he's psychic, a spoon bender?" Dean can never resist a snarky comment.
"I didn't even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his Uncle died. Elena said it was like something pushed her into the wall."
Dean's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "He hurt her."
Sam hesitates for only a second. "He was trying to save her."
Dean glances at him sideways.
Sam sighs. "She didn't want you to worry, but Roger, he…" Sam coughs. "He got a little handsy."
Dean looks alarmed so Sam rushes to reassure him. "Nothing Elena couldn't handle, but to an abused kid like Max, it probably looked bad. She said it was like something was pulling Roger away from her, Max used his powers to throw him into the next room."
He glances over at Dean again who looked conflicted.
"He wanted to help her so he threw her into a wall?"
Sam shrugs. "Elena said she thought whoever it was didn't want any witnesses."
He glances over at his brother, wondering if he's lingering more on Max hurting Elena or Elena telling Sam about Roger. Dean stays silent, so Sam's focus switches back to his visions.
"These visions, this whole time – I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. I guess – because we're so alike?" Sam ponders.
Dean looks at him like he's crazy. "What are you talking about? The dude's nothing like you," he says forcefully.
Sam looks doubtful. "Well. We both have psychic abilities, we're both-"
Dean cuts him off. "Both what? Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third. And he hurt Elena. She could've died, Sam."
Sam gives him a pained look. "Dean, I know. It's just…well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane."
"Yeah but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family, or hurting a complete stranger that you're supposedly trying to save. At the very least, Sam, he has no control over it."
Sam can tell that Dean can't see past the fact that Max hurt Elena, and part of him can't really blame his brother. Part of him agrees because it's Elena and she didn't do anything to Max. But it's all a little too close to home for him to let it go. Max is a little too close to Sam to just let him be hunted.
"Dean-" Sam tries, but Dean isn't having it.
"He's no different from anything else we've hunted, all right? We gotta end him," Dean says matter-of-factly.
Sam puts his foot down. "We're not going to kill Max."
Dean brakes for a stop sign with more force than necessary, using the opportunity to make eye contact with Sam.
"Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up officer; he kills with the power of his mind.'"
Sam ignores him. "Forget it. No way, man."
"Sam-"
This time Sam cuts Dean off.
"Dean. He's a person. We can talk to him." Sam goes for broke. "Elena's gonna agree with me, you know that."
Dean gives him a grudging look. "Elena grew up in a town called Mystic Falls with a witch for a best friend. Her brother sees dead people. Her entire life is gray areas."
Sam is almost distracted by the reminder of just how fucking weird Elena's life has been, but he also recognizes Dean's attempt at a diversion.
"Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."
Dean looks away, pressing on the gas. "All right, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."
Elena can't quite hide her pout this time as they leave. Sitting up in bed, she picks at the blanket anxiously.
"He almost did you in while trying to save you, Elena," Dean reminds her, sitting so close that their thighs touch, only the thin motel coverlet between them. "Going back in for seconds could turn you all fanged and craving blood. Can't have that."
Sam wonders if the chiding note in Dean's voice is really about Elena almost dying or about the fact that she told Sam and not Dean about Roger.
Elena rolls her eyes. "I know, Dean. That's not it." She shrugs. "I just hate not being able to have your back, that's all."
Dean smiles at her. "Sammy's got me covered."
Sam nods. "Don't worry, Elena, we got this."
She gives them an attempt at a smile. "Yeah, I know." Flopping back onto her pillows, she reaches for Dracula again.
Dean rolls his eyes.
"Watch The Real Housewives of Hell or something. You've read that book enough times to have it memorized."
Elena gives him an amused look. "But Dean, I'm almost to the part where Van Helsing makes everyone give Lucy their blood and then makes jokes about how they're all her husbands."
Dean sighs. "Such a fucking weird book."
Elena grins and nods.
Finally he gets up off of the bed and follows Sam to the door.
"Say hi to Quincey for me," Sam tells Elena meaningfully.
She raises an eyebrow at him like she knows exactly what he means.
"He has impeccable taste in guns. I like a man who knows his weaponry."
Sam grins widely when Dean laughs.
"You know I never did anything," Alice says defensively.
Max creeps out of his corner, tears streaming down his face. "That's right. You didn't do anything. You didn't stop them, not once!"
Before anything else can happen, Dean busts down the front door, Sam at his heels.
"Fathers?" Alice sounds bewildered.
Sam smiles awkwardly, trying to ignore their dramatic entrance.
"What are you doing here?" Max asks with particular hostility.
"Uhh, sorry to interrupt," Dean says, no plan in place.
Sam interrupts Dean's stalling. "Max, can we, uh, can we talk to you outside for just one second?"
Max stares at them. "About what?"
Sam smiles manically. "It's…it's private. I wouldn't want to bother your mother with it."
In his head he curses the fact that Elena isn't there. Really, he's gotten so used to how easy she makes things. People want to have private conversations with Elena – even when it interrupts their plans to murder their stepmother for neglecting to save them from a childhood of abuse, they jump at the chance.
"We won't be long at all though, I promise," Sam adds with a serious nod.
Dean mostly just stands behind him and nods. Sam has a feeling he wishes Elena was there too, not confined to the motel room until the vampire blood passes out of her system because Max felt the need to save her from a situation Elena could probably talk her way out of, knowing her.
Max exchanges a look with his stepmother before looking back to the brothers.
"Okay."
"Great," Sam says with fervency.
Max starts to follow them outside, but catches a glimpse of the gun tucked into the waistband of Dean's jeans in the mirror by the door.
Max slams the door Dean has barely opened, and the blinds on the windows along with it.
"You're not priests!"
Dean reaches for his gun, Max uses his telekinesis to pull it right out of his hands. He reaches down to pick it up, hefting it's unfamiliar weight in his hand as he points it at the brothers.
"Max, what's happening?" Alice shrieks.
"Shut up," he snaps, not taking his eyes off of Sam and Dean.
"What are you doing?" she asks, ignoring him.
With a turn of his head she goes flying across the kitchen, hitting her head on the counter, knocking her unconscious.
"I said shut up!"
"Max, calm down," Sam says firmly.
"Who are you?" Max demands, ignoring him.
"We just wanna talk to you," Sam says, keeping his tone firm but frank.
Max shakes his head, disbelieving. "Yeah right, that's why you bought this!"
Sam holds his hands out, placating. "That was a mistake all right? So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just please, just hear me out."
"About what?" Max snaps out.
Sam goes for the Elena move, he tells the truth. "I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."
The gun in Max's hand points downward slightly. "What?"
"I'm having visions, Max. About you."
Max shakes his head. "You're crazy."
Dean can't help but to give him a resentful look.
Sam isn't buying it. "So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom? Right here?" Sam points to his eye, just like he saw in his vision. "Is it that hard to believe Max? Look what you can do." He gestures at his stepmother lying on the ground. "Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you."
Max looks away, a sob rising in his throat, he stares at Alice's mobile form. He looks back to the brothers.
"No one can help me."
"Let me try," Sam says imploringly. "We'll just talk, me and you. We'll get Dean and Alice out of here."
Dean objects immediately. "Uh-huh. No way." There's no way in hell he's leaving his brother with an unhinged telekinetic kid who threw his best friend into a wall while allegedly trying to protect her.
Max is in agreement. "Nobody leaves this house!" The chandelier above them starts to rattle.
Sam can compromise. "And nobody has to, all right? They'll just…they'll just go upstairs," he offers, praying it will be enough.
It's not good enough for Dean. "Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him."
Sam doesn't even look at Dean. "Yes you are." He directs his next words at Max. "Look, Max, you're in charge here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything that you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here, man."
Dean's eyes are on the chandelier, still shaking like there's an earthquake. "Sam!" he hisses between his teeth, tense.
Max looks at Alice, then to Sam.
"Five minutes," he tells him. Then to Dean, "Go."
He keeps the gun pointed on Dean, following him as he makes his way across the room to Alice. He picks her up and carries her up the stairs.
Max is playing with a knife, spinning it around on the table, drilling it into the wood without ever laying a hand on it. It's disturbing at least and a blatant threat at most.
Sam sighs. "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through-"
Max keeps his eyes on the knife. "That's right you can't."
"But Max, this has to stop."
Max won't look away from the knife, won't look away from his pain. "It will, after my stepmother-" he speaks through clenched teeth.
"No," Sam says firmly. "You need to let her go."
"Why?" Max asks, finally unclenching his teeth.
"Did she beat you?" Sam asks bluntly.
"No, but she never tried to save me. She's a part of it too." Max can't let it go.
Sam knows if Elena was here she'd remind him that the very fact that they hurt Max was an implicit threat against Alice herself. She'd blur the lines, make him wonder how someone living in such a violent environment could ever feel safe, regardless of if either of them ever laid their hands on her.
Sam tries another tactic. "What they did, to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished…"
Max snaps. "Growing up?" He finally meets Sam's eye. "Try last week."
He stands and pulls up his shirt to reveal the bruises. "My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it." Sam looks away. "Old habits die hard I guess." Max pulls his shirt back down.
"I'm sorry," Sam says quietly. He goes for broke. "What about the girl?"
Max looks confused, sitting down slowly.
"The one in your uncle's apartment, with the bruises? You threw her into a wall, she didn't do anything to you."
Max flinches. "I saved her."
Sam inhales, exhales, tells the truth. "You almost killed her."
Max looks mortally wounded. He starts shaking his head, then a question dawns on his face.
"How do you know?"
Sam sighs. "She's our friend. When I had the vision about your uncle we tried to save him. She was there to help him."
Max sneers. "And he tried to hurt her, like whoever left those bruises."
Sam sees it crystal clear now, all Max saw was a cornered girl and bruises, his uncle – his abuser – looming over her. All he saw was a reflection of himself, projecting his own trauma onto a perfect stranger.
Sam is torn, because it would only take one sentence to make Max understand that Elena is nothing like him, but he doesn't know how he'll react. He goes for ambiguity instead.
"Believe me, she can look after herself. Elena doesn't really end up in a lot of situations that she can't handle, your uncle included."
Max looks confused. "I'm glad she's okay?" he offers timidly.
Sam considers him. "You thought she was like you, that he was gonna hurt her like he hurt you, and you lost control."
Max scowls, openly scornful of Sam's words.
"You wanted to save her but you hurt her instead. Your ability-"
Max cuts him off. "When I first found out I could move things it was a gift." He's back to staring at the spinning knife. "My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week Dad gets drunk." He looks at Sam. "First time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do."
Sam exhales. "Why didn't you just leave?" he asks hesitantly.
Max starts shaking his head and doesn't seem to be able to stop. "It wasn't about getting away." The knife falls and Sam flinches.
"Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about…not being afraid. When my dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?" he demands, staring steadily into Sam's soul, slouched against the couch like he's about to fold in on himself.
Sam shakes his head, says softly, "No."
"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my mom's death." His voice cracks on the last word.
"Why would he blame you for your mom's death?" Sam asks.
Max sits up. "Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib." He leans his elbows on his knees. "As if that makes it my fault."
Sam stares at him, shocked. "She died in your nursery?" he asks, uncomprehending, mind racing.
Max is almost shouting now. "There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!"
Elena knows Dean is right, she should stay in the motel room and wait for the vampire blood to leave her system.
Staying still feels impossible, knowing that Alaric could be outside the motel door at this very moment. She's not sure if it's him that's following her, she keeps thinking she sees– but she knows someone is following her. Someone has been following her since she got back from New Orleans. She doesn't know if John is getting her messages. She doesn't know if she can trust Klaus. She wants to run, she wants to hide, she wants to scrape out her insides until she forgets –
And it had almost worked, with that guy, he almost held her hard enough to forget her name, almost wore her down into nothing so she could just get some fucking sleep. But now the bruises are gone, gone with the head wound because of the vampire blood, and it's not enough. The pain is gone, there's nothing to hold onto. She's about to fly in a million different directions, break into a million pieces and all of Klaus' vampires and all of Klaus' hybrids couldn't put her back together again.
All of this fear and paranoia and that itch in her thigh – run, hide, touch, feel, hurt, bruise – and still, impossibly, she wants to open the door and throw her arms around Alaric because she misses him. But not the monster hunting her.
Alaric Saltzman, history teacher, vampire hunter, guardian. She misses his humanity and his assurance and how he took care of them, her and Jeremy. It feels impossible to grieve for someone who isn't really gone, he's been haunting her for years. It tears her in two, the understanding that he still wants the same thing, to protect her, he needs her safe after all. He still wants the white oak stake to kill Klaus, and every other vampire in existence, including the ones she loves. She's outrun him for so long, sent him on wild goose chases, had him chasing Katherine across South America for nearly two years, longer than she expected.
Now it's only a matter of time. Elena can only hold her breath and wait for it.
She just can't sit still anymore.
Sam can barely breathe.
"Listen to me, Max. What your dad said, about what happened to your mom. It's real."
It takes Max a few tries to form words. "What?"
Sam nods fervently. "It happened to my mom too, exactly the same. My nursery, my crib, my dad saw her on the ceiling."
Right away Max goes for denial. "Your dad must have been as drunk as mine."
Sam shakes his head. "No, no," he says flatly. "It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers."
"That's impossible," Max says, his voice cracking.
Sam can barely contain himself. There is an answer to this bizarre connection he feels to Max, a reason for him having visions about him and his family.
"This must be why I'm having visions during the day," Sam is babbling now, not even bothering to explain how he used to only have visions when he slept. "Why they're getting more intense. 'Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started 6-7 months ago right, out of the blue?"
Max can barely look at him. "How'd you know that?"
Sam leans forward eagerly. "'Cause that's when my abilities started, Max. Yours seem to be much further along but still, this has to mean something right? I mean for some reason, you and I…you and I were chosen." Sam feels like he's landed on solid ground.
"For what?" Max asks flatly.
Solid ground, but without a light to see the way.
"I don't know," Sam admits. "But Dean and I, my brother and I, we're hunting for your mom's killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both," Sam can feel something like hope blooming in his chest. He isn't alone.
"But you gotta let us go Max. You gotta let your stepmother go."
He seems to consider it, he takes so long to answer, Sam almost thinks he's going to say yes. Then his face contorts with rage and pain and Sam knows he is lost.
Instead, Max shakes his head violently. "No. What they did to me. I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for that next beating. I'm just tired of being scared."
With that he leaps to his feet, pacing through the kitchen towards the stairs. Sam follows him.
"If I do this it'll be over!" He can't let go of his lifetime of pain, it's all he's ever known.
Sam dives in front of him, blocking his path. "Don't you get it? It won't. Don't you get it? The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this." He shakes his head. "It's just…more pain. And it makes you as bad as them." Sam stares at him, pleadingly sincere. "Max, you don't have to go through all this by yourself." He means every word.
"I'm sorry."
It's not enough. Behind Sam, the closet doors open and he is violently shoved back into them. The door's slam shut.
"No!" Sam shouts. The armoire slides in front of the door. "Max!"
It crawls through Sam's mind like a heat wave.
Dean kneeling before Alice on the bed, tending to the wound on her head. The door slowly creeps open, Max is there with the gun.
Dean, his big brother, heroic and stalwart to a fault, places himself between Max and Alice.
"You wanna kill her you gotta go through me first," Dean tells him sternly.
Max does not hesitate. "Okay," And then he shoots Dean in the head.
It slams through Sam so quickly, and then it is gone, receding, reality taking over. It has not happened yet.
"No." It will not happen.
"NOOO!" The armoire scrapes across the floor, shocking Sam to his core.
Cautiously, he pushes open the door.
Max is there in the doorway, Dean's gun floating between them, and Dean thinks –
Why didn't he just tell her? He got so close. He's always known he could run out of time at any moment. After all, hadn't that feeling made him realize his feelings in the first place? So why does he keep wasting it?
He got so close, halfway there, and then he'd retreated. Why is he always letting them push him away?
So he stares down the barrel of a gun, and he thinks about how he should've told her.
A shot rings out.
A shot rings out and Sam is still on the stairs. Alice screams.
"Oh God."
It rings through him and he's taking the stairs three at a time now, he rounds the corner and at the end of the hallway he sees –
Max crumbles to the ground like an abandoned marionette, Dean's gun dropping to the ground. Elena is framed by the doorway. She lowers her gun.
A moment of stunned silence.
Sam says her name.
Elena does not turn around.
"Who are you?" Alice asks, terrified and bewildered.
Elena does not so much as glance at her.
Dean levels her with a look.
"You're supposed to be at the motel," he says, too breathless to sound stern.
She shrugs, tilting her head to the side, never taking her eyes off of him.
"I'm not very good at staying put. Why do you think your dad always thinks I need a babysitter?"
Dean barely resists the urge to drag her into his arms.
Alice recites her story for the police, telling them about Max's breakdown, calling family friends Dean and Sam to help. How Max must've broken in through the garage – Elena's actual point of entry. Elena is nowhere in sight because there's already reports of a young brunette being seen just before a man lost his head in what seemed like an accident.
Sam and Dean drive back to the motel, silence thick between them. Sam understands why Elena did what she did – he'd pick Dean too – he just regrets not being able to help Max.
"If I'd just said something else. Gotten through to him somehow," he says finally.
Dean shakes his head. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" Sam asks.
"Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone." Dean looks at him hard. "Don't give Elena a hard time about it either-"
Before Dean can say anything else Sam shakes his head hard. "No, I know. I get it. It's you." For a moment Sam's throat goes dry and he can't speak. "I know." It's all he can say. He knows why she did it. "I just wish I could've done something."
Sam will always want to fix everyone.
Dean is more pragmatic. "I mean yeah, maybe if we had gotten there 20 years earlier."
"Well I'll tell you one thing. We're lucky we had Dad."
Dean stares at him, momentarily forgetting he's driving. He recovers after a moment, turning his attention back to the road.
"I never thought I'd hear you say that," he says finally.
It's the first time Sam's really thought about it. "Well, it could've gone a whole other way after Mom."
Sam had felt a connection to Max because their lives had been ruined in the same instant in a nursery. It's the first time Sam realizes it could've been worse.
"A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting, then we would've had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay…thanks to him."
Dean nods. "All things considered."
Sam is asleep, an arm flung over his face, while Dean lies awake. Elena is on the couch again, and it's killing him. She'd already been curled up, turned away from the door when they came in. It's like acid in his lungs, how she still keeps herself away from him. She'll save him, but that's it. Getting too close is no longer in the cards.
Dean has no idea if she's not dealing with killing Max well or if she's freaked out by her recent brush with death or if it's something entirely, something bigger and scarier. He hates not knowing, but there's only so much he can do about that.
He's startled when she slides into bed beside him.
"Elena?" he whispers cautiously, turning to face her.
She's further away than she's slept from him in a long time, but she's there.
"Hi," she says softly. "Are you okay?"
He scoffs. "Are you?"
Silence. He's afraid she isn't going to answer and that will be it. They don't talk anymore.
"Not really," she confesses after a long moment.
"Is it Max?"
She shakes her head, shadows sliding across her face, revealing then hiding.
"No, not at all." Saving Dean was the easiest thing in the world. No, she doesn't relish in the memory of killing someone, but she can live with it.
"Is it about Roger Miller?" he asks. Something in his chest is easing, because she's answering his questions.
"No," she says, shaking her head decisively.
He hesitates, then asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"
She can't help it, she moves closer.
"I was going to, once the case was over."
A flash of white in the dark and he knows she's smiling at him.
"Right now, I guess. I would've told you now if Sam hadn't already."
"I can handle it, Elena."
A hum, then- "I know, Dean. I just think sometimes it's hard for you to remember that day you taught me how to break every bone in the human hand."
He swallows a laugh, not wanting to wake Sam. He finally sobers.
"What's wrong, Elena?" he asks gently.
She inhales. It takes her so long to answer he's afraid she isn't going to at all, but really she's too overcome to speak. Too consumed by terror and uncertainty and paranoia.
"Everything is falling apart," she finally says.
"What happened?" he asks, immediately concerned.
"Nothing," she says abruptly. "Not yet anyway. I just don't know how much longer I can run. Everything is closing in and I'm-" She stops. "I'm terrified."
He can't hold back anymore. He reaches out for her, pulling her into him, tucking her into his chest. She goes willingly, burying her face in his shirt.
He tucks her head under his chin, stroking his fingers through her hair and down her back, keeping one arm anchored around her waist.
"What are you running from, Elena?" he asks, his heart pounding through her.
She shakes her head. "I can't tell you." Her voice is muffled by his shirt, he can feel her mouth through the worn thin material of his shirt, and it sets his skin on fire.
He ignores it, focused entirely on her fear.
"What can I do to make it better?" he asks instead of a hundred other questions he wants to ask. "What can I do to make you feel safe?"
She hooks an arm around his neck, holding herself in place, trying so hard not think.
Exhaling into his chest, she tells the truth.
"Nothing," she admits. "No one can make me feel safe anymore, because I'm not."
She pulls back, rising so they are nose to nose. He can barely see her, but squinting through the dark, her face looks solemn.
"I just want you to know, that if I go, it's not because of you. It's just that it's so hard to stay still right now."
"Go where?" he asks, his voice tense.
"Away," she says distantly.
He inhales, ready to argue. She clamps a hand around his wrist, pulling his hand out of her hair, propelling herself out of his embrace, shakes her head.
"I won't really have a choice, don't fight me on this. I'll wait, I'm not just going to take off, not again, but if I'm right-" she cuts herself off before she reveals too much. "I'll go," she finally says.
She starts to sit up, tries to get out of bed, so Dean sits up too, grasping her hand with his.
"Don't go. Don't go back to the couch or go out or whatever, just stay here." He tries not to beg but he knows a losing battle when he sees it.
She goes soft, leaning forward, leaning into him.
"I'm not going out, Dean," she says quietly. It takes everything in her not to crash into him.
He swallows. "Why did you?" he asks, knowing it makes him a hypocrite. He can't quite make himself finish the question.
She understands anyway. "I thought it would help me sleep," she says softly.
He stills. "Did it?"
She tells him the truth. "Not really."
He chews on his lip. "What was his name?" he asks before he can stop himself.
She shrugs in the dark.
"You never asked?"
A moment and then, a low teasing murmur, "I'm not sure, but he was either named after an Egyptian God or a Quentin Tarantino character."
He snorts, but something in his chest eases.
"He sounds real special."
She shrugs again. "I don't really wanna talk about him anymore," she says honestly.
He takes the plunge. "Okay, let's talk about us."
She tenses. "Dean-" she begins.
He shakes his head, tugging her hand until she moves closer. "Don't lie to me right now, Elena. Don't pretend."
"Dean, it's a bad idea," she replies, and it takes everything in her not to sound weak. "We are a bad idea."
He inhales sharply. "Don't say that."
He sounds pained and it hurts more than she can bear.
"Dean, you hate secrets," she says. "All I have are secrets. They're not going away anytime soon. So let's just go back."
"Go back?" he echoes.
She nods seriously. "We're friends, we're partners, and we're really good at that."
He lets out a low disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah, okay, we'll go back," he says abruptly. He can see that he's not going to get anywhere with her. She's made up her mind.
She moves again like she's going to get up, but he stops her.
"Sleep here," he says.
"I don't think it's a good idea," she murmurs.
"We did it for nearly three years, we're really good at this," he says lightly, but he doesn't know if he's talking about pretending or sharing a bed without crossing any lines. "I don't see how it's any different now," he lies.
She hovers uncertainly, then finally gives in.
They keep to their own sides of the bed, no straying hands or overlapping ankles, but it's enough. Dean sleeps better than he has all week.
Elena stays awake listening to him breathe, listening for the sound of footsteps outside their door.
The next night Dean finally relents and agrees that enough time has passed and it's safe for Elena to leave the safety of the motel room.
Sam and Dean pack up the car while Elena checks them out.
"Dean, I've been thinking," Sam says.
"Well, that's never a good thing," Dean replies dryly.
There's something bothering him, clearly, but Sam suspects it has to do with Elena, so he doesn't ask, knowing Dean will only blow him off and pretend it's nothing.
Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm serious. I been thinking, this demon, whatever it is. Why would it kill Mom, and Jessica, and Max's mother, you know? What does it want?"
Dean shakes his head. "No idea."
Sam takes a deep breath, takes the plunge. "Well, you think, maybe, it was after us? After Max and me?"
Dean pauses in his packing, looking over at him warily. "Why would you think that?"
"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason."
Dean shakes his head decisively. "Sam. If it had wanted you, it would've just taken you. Okay? This is not your fault, it's not about you."
His reassurance doesn't quite ease the tight feeling in Sam's chest.
"Then what is it about?" he asks.
Dean snaps. "It's about that damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all."
Sam hesitates, takes the plunge again. "Actually there's uh…there's something else too."
Dean, still recovering from the night before, from Elena's firm closing of the door between them, is sick and tired of revelations. "Ah, jeez, what?"
"When Max left me in that closet, with that big cabinet against the door…I moved it." Sam tries to appear nonchalant.
Dean misunderstands. "Huh. You got a little more upper body strength than I gave you credit for," he teases him easily.
Sam shakes his head, impatient at his lack of understanding. "No man, I moved it. Like, Max."
This stops Dean in his tracks. "Oh. Right."
"Yeah," Sam says grimly.
Dean grabs a spoon from the coffee tray.
He holds it out to Sam. "Bend this."
Sam glares at him. "I can't just turn it on and off, Dean."
"Well how'd you do it?" Dean asks bluntly.
Sam exhales impatiently. "I don't know, I can't control it. I just…I saw you die and it just came out of me, like a, like a punch. You know like…a freak adrenaline thing."
Dean nods, desperately trying to keep his cool. He tosses the spoon back onto the tray. "Well, I'm sure it won't happen again." He goes back to packing.
Sam is more doubtful. "Yeah, maybe. Aren't you worried, man? Aren't you worried I could turn into Max or something?"
Dean doesn't even hesitate. "Nope. No way." He looks at Sam. "You know why?"
Sam shakes his head. "No. Why?"
Dean points at him. "'Cause you got one advantage Max didn't have."
"Dad?" Sam scoffs. "Because Dad's not here, Dean."
"No." Dean puts on his jacket. "Me." He smiles at Sam, cocky and sure. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you."
Sam can't help but smile back at him, reassured by the sheer weight of Dean's certainty in him.
Dean grabs his bag, walking up to Sam.
"Now then. I know what we need to do about your premonitions."
Sam looks at him hopefully.
"I know where we have to go," Dean says seriously.
"Where?" Sam asks eagerly.
"Vegas," Dean says seriously.
Sam rolls his eyes, grabbing his own bag and stalking out to the car.
Dean trails out after him. "What? Come on man. Craps tables. We'd clean up! We could go for Elena's birthday!"
Sam is agitated enough that he doesn't notice Dean's thoughtful gaze on him.
Across the parking lot, Elena paces, restless, phone to her ear.
"And there was no way to avoid being seen?" Katherine's agitated drawl doesn't help.
Elena rolls her eyes. "I got thrown into a wall, Kat. I almost died."
"Okay, okay, it really was unavoidable. I can be there by morning. Everyone will forget there was ever a brunette in Roger Miller's apartment at the time of his death."
Elena isn't listening to her.
"Do you think he felt it?" she asks, staring into space.
It's Katherine's turn to roll her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"I was dying," she says clearly. "Do you think Alaric felt it?"
Katherine's well-practiced enough to keep her breathing even.
"Probably," she says finally.
She knows what anyone else would think, that she must regret it; that Elena's hunter had saved her before she died, that the indestructible hunter bent on destroying her entire species is still alive. They'd be wrong, though. Elena made everything easier for her, gave her a purpose and safety and hell, Katherine is a fucking expert at running. Alaric is a piece of cake compared to Klaus.
Plus Elena's kind of a badass now, and Katherine respects that. Elena grew up and got smart, got tough, and never once looked back, not for Salvatores or her childhood friends or anyone. She only looked back to see who might be gaining on her. Katherine understands that.
Katherine doesn't want Elena to die.
She clears her throat. "Don't worry about it, Cupcake. Just keep moving. He hasn't found you yet."
"No, not yet," Elena echoes numbly. "I think someone is following me, though."
Katherine inhales sharply. "Already?"
Elena sighs, passing her hand over her eyes. "I don't know. I keep thinking I see-" she cuts herself off. "Someone," she says finally.
"Have you told Klaus?" Katherine asks.
Elena chews on her lower lip. "Not yet."
"Why not?" Katherine sounds surprised.
"Because I haven't figured out if Klaus is the one who sent them," she says, finally voicing her suspicion.
"Oh," Katherine says.
"Until I know if our relationship deteriorated that dramatically without me knowing, I don't feel comfortable asking."
Katherine sighs. "This was so much easier when we were just trying to figure out how to kill him, not save him."
Elena laughs bitterly. "Tell me about it."
From across the parking lot, Dean catches her eye. He cants his head to the side, asking if she's ready to go. She nods.
"Next time can you be spotted at a crime scene in Paris? Michigan, Elena, really?"
Elena laughs. "Sure, I can do Paris next time. Listen, Kat, I gotta go, we need to hit the road."
Katherine smiles in satisfaction at the ease sliding into her voice. She'd like to take credit for it with her joke, but she has a pretty good guess why her doppelganger is suddenly feeling better.
"Oooh, I get it, hunter hunk is beckoning," she teases lightly.
Elena rolls her eyes. "I owe you for this."
"Just remember to introduce me to that brother of his, all right?"
"Oh absolutely not, you'd eat Sam alive," Elena says quickly.
Katherine pouts. "He'd enjoy it."
Elena shakes her head. "Goodbye Katherine."
They hang up and Elena heads for the car.
"Lining up another babysitting gig?" Dean cracks.
Elena grins. "Nope, just a little clean up on aisle 26."
Sam narrows his eyes at her. "I don't get it."
"Uh, don't worry about it."
Sam and Dean don't even bother looking at each other as they answer as one.
"We're worried."
She rolls her eyes. "I called someone to take care of that whole "wanted witness to a mysterious and gruesome death" thing."
Sam cocks his head to the side. "You seriously have people for everything, don't you?"
She nods. "Pretty much."
"Is it another witch?" Dean asks.
"More of a bitch, actually."
tbc.
AN: Chapter title is from People Are Strange by The Doors. My first conscious memory of this song is the intro scene of Lost Boys, which is still one of my absolute favorite vampire movies to this day. I watch it every October, I tend to switch up what other horror-themed shows and movies I watch that month, but Lost Boys is always a must. Mind you, this is from a girl who keeps a list of her favorite horror movies on her laptop…looking over it, I'm forced to acknowledge my love of a. horror comedy movies (like Lost Boys), and b. horror movies that have unique twists/plotlines (...also Lost Boys).
References:
Sam: spends all of his free time obsessing over Dean and Elena. Also Sam: considers suicide when he learns the tiniest detail about Elena's sex life.
Crazy Ass Murderer Wall: MARSHMALLOWS REPRESENT AND JOin me in pretending that season 4 never fucking happened. For everyone else, that was a Veronica Mars reference.
We all know Elena is in fact supernatural, she just also happens to be human - mostly.
This is such a serious scene, ELENA COULD DIE but all I can think about is Jensen Ackles at that convention talking about kicking his hotel door in because his key didn't work and how he just wanted to go to sleep. That story never fails to make me laugh.
I will never ever be done talking about Dracula okay. NEVER. Also yes, Sam realized Dean is Quincey because he's Elena's favorite.
Raise your hand if you too would watch the Real Housewives of Hell. Like, that sounds like my kinda reality show. Truthfully, I don't watch reality television, but I'd watch that.
Quincey, as I've mentioned before, uses a Winchester rifle. So…I think that was an innuendo? *side eyes Elena* Girl! Don't say that to Dean's BROTHER.
TBH Dean and Elena were originally supposed to be fighting for a lot longer until I realized Roger Miller is exactly the kind of guy to take advantage of seemingly vulnerable girl and how it was a perfect shitstorm for poor Max to overreact to. Anyway as soon as Elena got hurt I knew this fight was gonna end way quicker than I anticipated.
This was a weird one tbh, changing the ending felt really strange because Max is a character I empathize with. But pretty much as long as I've had this story in my head, this was the ending. Elena's got a serious ruthless streak, especially when it comes to protecting her loved ones. She's also paranoid and on edge and unable to keep still or properly look after herself. This is probably the most "shoot first, ask later" she'll ever get.
So part of Elena's extreme paranoia in the last couple of (current day) chapters has been because she's convinced someone's following her. Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging, there will be answers next chapter.
Michigan is the 26th state. :P
Elena calls Katherine a bitch with all the love in the world. I just love a good Katherine/Elena team up. Team Petrova FTW!
I'm gonna try to have The Benders up next Sunday but I am moving this week so it might be an unrealistic expectation to have for myself. If it doesn't happen, the week after for sure.
Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Please leave a review! Take care, everyone!
xoxo
-Pixie