Chapter 12: Saying-Not-Saying

November 19, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

Back in the motel room parking lot, strapped in their seats with the engine breathing, the Winchesters talk about the incident at the lake because this is what they do now. Dean is trying out something new with sharing their thoughts and feelings to prevent Ellie from being backed into a corner and wordless. Yet, in this case, the only possible reason why Ellie would not want to open up is because she was yelled at for something she cannot even recall doing. What bothers her is not what she did experience, but rather what she didn't.

Once again, Ellie retells Sam and Dean that she does not remember what happened. She swears she was doing what she was told, until she opened her eyes, and suddenly she was not. Honestly, if someone were to ask Ellie, she fails to see what the monstrous deal is. She did not see, hear, or feel anything. She did not even drown. The lake had a death grip on her ankles and all Ellie could do was allow it to destroy her favorite pair of shoes.

Her brothers nosedive into a light discussion about whether they are dealing with a siren, but they cannot come up with a reason for what one would want with a random kid. Plus, they are following the lead of the Carlton family name being cursed in some way or another, and a siren hypothesis seems less plausible in this pretense.

Dean does apologize for raising his voice at Ellie because it was a glaring symptom of being his father's son. It felt icky for everyone involved, but he assures the girl that the only reason he was harsh is because he cares. Ellie knows that, but sometimes his worry is so strong that it panics her. Not everything with the Winchesters is a matter of life or death, but the important things are, and it can be a tiring weight to carry.

In the end, there is a consensus that the lake episode is nothing to cry about, but it will be monitored so that it does not occur again. Ellie's sneakers are left on the heating and cooling system in their motel room to dry out. She has to dig out her old tennis shoes. They crunch her toes a little, but it is better than the musty smell of her other shoes that lingers in the Impala's interior leather like a stain that just refuses to come out.

November 20, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

Ellie shadowboxes with her dreams throughout the night. She has not had reality altering nightmares in quite a while, and the experience rattles her brain and body around. When the girl closes her eyes, she sees her human faced monster lying beside her on the sofa bed. She does not have it within her to scream because her vocal cords dry up in her throat. The only way out is to kick her heart back into action and sit up in small cold gasps while her skin fizzles. Ellie calms by glancing over at her siblings, their bodies sluggish in sleep, and knowing that if they are not up then her visions are not real. Though, this does not stop her from checking the salt lines at the windows and door three times over. She even heads to the bathroom to stare at herself under light, and when nothing jumps out at her reflection, she feels better. Ellie is beginning to become good at sneaking around the motel room while her brothers sleep, but it is not something she wants to be proficient at.

For this reason, Ellie finds herself yawning at Lucas' doorstep the next morning while they wait for someone to answer the door. If Ellie could, she thinks she might prefer to sink through the wooden cracks in Lucas' front porch. She would live in the dirt under his house, and there would not be any missing fathers, or monster drawings, or memory lapses, or trouble to get into, or human-like lakes, or soiled shoes. Merely existing would be enough to make it through.

Standing there now, teetering on the beams of his house as her brothers speak with Lucas' mom, Ellie believes it might just be possible if she shrinks small enough. Andrea – who Ellie has since learned is the name of Lucas' mother – is denying them access to her home, and by extension, to her family. The experiment is over; it did not work out. Lucas did not return to normal, and all the Winchesters are doing is poking at his bullet wounds.

However, Ellie knows Lucas is talking. He has been even before they showed up in this town. The only difference is he is not using words to do it.

There must be something about the way Ellie ended up in that lake yesterday that has Dean freaked because he was insistent about the three of them coming here this morning – even post lake fiasco. He is pressing into the woman before them: "Andrea, please – I just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes, and then we'll be out of your hair."

Dean's presentation is urgent yet forgiving, and Andrea sits in it for a moment. She stands in her doorway the same way she did in the park, flimsy and turned inside out. Her arms cradle her ribcage as if she needs to protect her organs from the words Lucas does not speak.

Andrea's fingers lift from where they are gripping her upper arm. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's a good idea." Even in rejection, she is so gentle. As if it is her default setting to the extent that it gets in the way of expressing other feelings, hindering her ability to be taken too seriously. Yet, Ellie knows better. She knows Lucas' mother is legitimate, it just hurts . . . a lot, probably. "It's not like he's going to say anything back."

Ellie wants to tell Andrea that Lucas is saying things, but they just aren't in the way his mother prefers or knows what to do with. Although the girl was quiet on the outside for months, she was fire hot and screaming on the inside. It was all there, but backwards.

Sam, of course, is one step ahead of his younger sister when he jumps into the conversation, calmly, "Listen, we think more people could get hurt. We think there's something out there."

Lucas' mother twitches and leans as a spark sprints up her veins. She steps out into the late autumn air and breathes. The space in her open front door stares back lonely and darkened. "Did you see anything?" she questions, lightly tugging at her necklace. "I mean, when you went to the lake . . ."

"No." Dean answers curtly before correcting himself. "Well, kind of, but – " Not what she thinks. Not what she wants.

It does not matter, though, because Dean's sentence rots in his mouth once Andrea shifts course.

"Lucas, honey, what are you doing out of your room?"

Lucas is in the threshold now. He is pale against the dim guts of his home. Ellie wonders how his mother knew he was there since she is facing away, but then again, most people can sense when there's a ghost behind them. Lucas does not reply – of course not – but Ellie can see in his eyes that he wants something. He is a bit panicky and unfocused. The girl opens her mouth to point out what is obvious to her, but finds no words perched on her tongue to pop out, and then she feels the same as Lucas does.

Lucas doesn't seem to want to withdraw himself from the house. He presses and releases on the doorframe until he manages to shake his way to Ellie, head down all the way. Plucking at her hand, he yanks the other child towards the building of shadowed furniture and scribbly walls, deciding for his mother that the Winchesters are to be welcomed guests.

Like most things with the mute boy, there is not much time to react. All Ellie can really do is crash-land into him and blindly follow without confirmation from any present adult. Ellie's shoes scuff on the step leading inside and her already cramped toes call out. She feels sloppy and tired as she is pulled up a flight of stairs and around a tight corner. The house is all hardwood and sharp lines. It doesn't want Ellie here, and she can detect its dismissal once Lucas opens a tall door and she is standing in his bedroom.

Ellie's heart tightens up. The pictures lining the walls and the room decor are horridly familiar. She has not been in a childhood bedroom since before, and it reminds her of something – or rather someone – too real to swallow down. Ellie presses her free hand to her chest to try to get the rhythm inside to even out. There is something so humiliating with intensity. She cannot hear because her insides are loud, but Lucas' faint squeeze on the hand connected to his is what sets her upright and back on track. Ellie needs to find out what he is saying-not-saying.

They let go of each other and sink to the floor. Ellie makes an effort to not eye her surroundings besides what Lucas is guiding her towards so she can breathe, and hear, and speak. The two of them are on a thin gray rug and Ellie looks down, down, down . . . She wants to burrow under the annoyed home, but she can't. She notices the only thing separating them are a pile of Lucas' crayon drawings.

There are footsteps coming up the stairs, but it is a recognizable presence in Ellie's brain, so she is able to talk, "What's wrong, Lucas? What did you want to show me?"

Sam, Dean, and Andrea are lingering in the doorway. They must be confused and attempting to comprehend the situation, but Ellie pays them little mind. She hardly had to ask or pry, and Lucas is already peeling through his art pieces. Ellie figures he must have saw it, then. Whether in her eyes, or the lines of her sweaty palms, or her chest cavity – one way or another, he did. Lucas knows the darkness has touched her, too.

Lucas pulls a drawing from his collection and offers it up to Ellie. When she takes ahold of the paper, there is still a weight holding it back. She starts coming back up for air, out from underneath the house. For the first time since they have met, Lucas allows his eyes to be met with Ellie's. It really looks like he could just throw up words in that instance, and the girl smiles back at him before he lets go of the picture and slithers back to aversion.

Ellie is not offended. She knows how to respond for the same reason Lucas knew to show her another drawing. She does not even need a family member to nudge her with: "now what do we say?".

"Thank you." Ellie says to Lucas' hair, but it feels as if she is still looking the boy in the eyes.

Ellie examines the new addition to the scraps of Lucas she has gathered. She sits leaning forwards and hovering over her lap in the back of the Impala. The seat belt is digging into her belly and trees smear by in her peripheral. Ellie's sleep deprived eyes wobble at the picture of a tan house contained within a brown gate cutting it off from the rest of the scene. A boy stands at the locked entrance with a blue cap on and a red bicycle in tow. To top the image off, a church dangles over the rest of the frame, seemingly mocking everything left below.

This is where Dean is driving to now. It was not difficult to figure out where Lucas pointed them because this town is too small to have duplicate buildings, especially churches. Ellie thinks about what Lucas is telling her this time. If the monster lives in the lake at the Carlton house, does it also reside in the house resisting society and faith?

The radio is on but low enough to be spoken over. Sam layers his voice on top of the chords.

"Lucas' mom said he didn't start drawing like that until after the accident. It's some kind of post-traumatic thing."

Ellie is drilling puncture wounds through Lucas' paper with her gaze. Even if she is uncomfortably bent over and giving up her weight for Baby's seat belt to hold, she does not move. Her attention stretches past her body to wallow in Dean's reply, "So what? You think he's telling everyone what happened to his dad without actually saying it?"

"I mean, he is the only person alive who witnessed what happened. I can only imagine the kind of toll that can have on someone, let alone a child."

The exchange ceases. Ellie's brain is lighting up like a Christmas tree and shouting "me! me! me!" because her story is alike to another's.

"Ellie, you weren't ever trying to tell us something with your drawings, right?" Dean inquires, honest. Ellie bolts upright and thumps against the seat. Baby is cradling her, and she is not looking at the crayon art anymore.

How could he know? He could have been pretending to be asleep, or maybe the drawing crawled out of her belongings and he found it.

Even with the anxiety that Dean knows what is going on and is merely trying to coax Ellie out to say it, the girl still falls victim to her mind.

"No." she answers in a startled small voice that is hardly convincing. "I just like to draw."

The worst part is that her brothers believe her. Sam does because he doesn't know any better, and Dean does because they talked about this already.

"Well, you heard it here first, folks." Dean says through a grin. He eyes Sam when he flicks on the blinker to make a right turn, checking to see if the coast is clear. "She just likes to draw."

Ellie feels sick. Her stomach is twisting and turning. Dean's demeanor is clearly showing that he never found anything. He was just checking in. She did not want to lie, but it was all she could do.

A part of Ellie recognizes that she could come clean to Dean. After all, he was the one who shared with her that he also has the planes of the demon's face memorized. It is their monster, not Ellie's alone, but that point is often covered in smog and hard to discern. The door Dean opened to his being is ordinary, but the thought of lifting muscle and bone to cram one inside is excruciating. Each time Ellie reaches down within the well of herself to bring up the topic, she finds it tapped out.

It was only when Ellie could not talk anymore that she found she always had the most to say. Whether it was about the way John's parenting style felt awkward and misplaced, or why Dean constantly looked as if he was struggling to pin himself down, or how the best times she had were spent with Sam because he had the most normal approach to everything. The hunting life was too big and fast, she discovered, and a part of her believed that Sam would take her with him when he finally escaped, which is why it hurt so much when he didn't. However, when she failed to die with his departure like she thought she would, Dean entered the scene and welcomed her like a pro. After that, Ellie did not really think about anything else outside of their makeshift family because Dean was excellent at distractions – until Dad disappeared, of course. Dad, or John, or whoever that man really is – vanished; and when he did, instead of another Dean appearing, Ellie's monster did. Sam's girlfriend perished in a way all too familiar and she did not need to see it to feel the hot touch of it. The girl is beginning to remember things, and they are not good events to be tucked away in, and she wants to tell Dean and Sam, but she is scared.

She drew her monster's face, and she is scared.

The fenced off property Lucas illustrated is home to an older woman. She comes across as someone who does not get many visitors, if her confused greeting at the gate is anything to go by. Inside of the house is cold and dim. The rooms are half packed up and the wallpaper is peeling and back bending down the walls. A cluster of pictures encasing a young boy sit up proudly on the mantle, amongst other childhood memorabilia, when the woman turns to the Winchesters to share her story.

She tells them that the boy wearing a blue cap with a red bike has not lived at this residence in a long time. She would know, after all – he is – or was – his mother; she is not sure if someone ever stops being a mother, but point being, her son disappeared over thirty years ago. Fate was not on his side, as he was the first victim of Lake Manitoc to be named a mysterious drowning: Peter Sweeney. Grief trips and bumps into the woman and she states that losing someone is worse than dying. She is the kind of person to keep spaces once occupied by the now pronounced gone the same as when they were vibrating with life. It is why the gate on her fence is actually unlocked, in case Peter decides to come home one day.

Ellie discovers herself having to clench her teeth and swallow down, down, down again . . .

When prompted, Ms. Sweeney explains that the real kicker is that Peter was friends with Bill Carlton back in the day – the best of friends, actually. They were always together. Except on the day that her son vanished.

Lucas' monster may live in the churning waves, but it was born under the floorboards of the Sweeney house the moment it stole the breath from its first victim. The two places are interconnected, and with Lucas' hints leading them on, it is all the more obvious of where to drive to next. Following a short farewell to Peter Sweeney's mother, the Winchesters fold back into the only home they have ever really had.

Dean tears Baby off the curb and points her in the direction of the Carlton address. Ellie holds onto her seat belt while her brothers start their usual back-and-forth. The drive will be short, but it is enough time to get points across. Dean is not buying that Bill was not at the scene when Peter succumbed to the water. The man was deliberately ignoring them yesterday and his bloodline is essentially being erased before his eyes. Sam deduces that what they are dealing with is likely in the realm of a vengeful spirit, and it is lining up that Bill Carlton is the culprit.

The Impala slams to a stop in Mr. Carlton's nonexistent driveway of dry patchy foliage. Ellie does not have to be told to stay in the car this time. There is no way she is ever going near that stupid shoe-ruining lake again. A glance back from her siblings is enough to have the child nod in agreement; she does not even dare unbuckling her seat belt in case it sets her free to wander and become mindless again. It truly is strange what her brain is allowing her to store in favor of resurfacing past hurts.

Ellie watches Dean and Sam storm around the front lawn, twisting and turning around in search of Bill. They knock on the front door and check around back and examine the dock – but nothing. Not a murmur passes. Not even a twinge of static.

Ellie's stomach hurts again, and she gingerly hugs herself while still in her seat belt cocoon. She rubs at her eyes, foggy from missing sleep. This predicament feels strange. When she was fake accusing Bill Carlton of killing his own children yesterday, she was only playing pretend. She did not mean it. He probably killed his best friend, but best friends don't do that. It doesn't make sense. Mr. Carlton had a perfectly good family and he hurt them in some way.

The clamor of an engine droning on by discontinues any more unrelenting thinking on Ellie's part. Rupturing through the foliage is Bill Carlton astride a motorboat. He is riding straight into the cursed and cloudy lake.

Dean and Sam take off after the rogue man. They sprint along the shoreline and head down to the end of the dock with their arms waving. The dull buzz of the boat is cozied up in Ellie's ear canals, but she can assume that her brothers are screaming; not that it matters, since everything is droned out besides Mr. Carlton's mission, whatever it might be.

Ellie does not want to watch this part, but unless Baby gets possessed by another woman in white and turns the other way, she is not going to miss what unfolds next. With her seat belt holding her back like a warning, the young girl presses into the backside of the front seat to peek over the leather and Baby's hood. Even if she knows that what they are hunting is otherworldly – because it always is – she half expects a shark to jump out of the taunting abyss and chomp down on Bill.

What happens next is less dramatic but more hollowing because of how real it is. A giant wave swells up and flips the boat high into the air. When gravity pulls everything back down, it instantly sinks. The water bubbles and swallows, and there is nothing. No motorboat. No Bill Carlton.

The lake ate him.

The impact of this truth knocks the wind out of Ellie. It feels as if all her bones fall out once she slumps back where she belongs. The car creaks and rustles, embarrassed to bear witness. And instead of biting down, Ellie strangles a noise out from between her lips.

It is wearing to keep pace with Sam's long strides when time is futile and Ellie is holding his hand. Ellie is still trying to make sense of watching someone die for the first time while on a case. Ron died in Colorado, but they just came across the aftermath and emptiness of the scene. She didn't see it happen. Not like this. Her lungs sigh in relief when they jolt into the police station and slow up, which is ironic considering Ellie always feels uncomfortable in these buildings and subjected to questioning.

Surprisingly so, Andrea and Lucas are already seated in the waiting room. Andrea hops up the moment she lays eyes on the trio.

"Sam, Dean, Ellie," the mother greets. She wipes her hands on her pants. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Ellie notices that Lucas is rocking back and forth in his chair. He looks stressed out. She pulls on Sam's hand as Dean responds, "Yeah, well, I could say the same thing about you."

Lake Manitoc's Sheriff, who Sam spoke with on the phone during the drive over, steps out of his office. He gestures towards the Winchesters but faces Andrea. "So, you're on a first-name basis now?" He sounds annoyed. Andrea only rolls her eyes.

"We've talked before . . . I told you that the other night." she states. Ellie is not sure why Lucas' mother is so buddy-buddy with the Sheriff, of all people. "Besides, Lucas is friends with Ellie now."

Sheriff Devins spares a glance at the other child in the room and Ellie smiles back nervously in return. Ellie isn't sure if Lucas trusts her, or if he chose to give her drawings because she is the other kid in the equation, but she would like to think that they are friends. She wants more friends, anyways, and they can be hard to come by when her family is constantly drifting around the country. Yet, Ellie is not certain if her and Lucas are friends like his mom says. Frankly, a lot of parents on these cases have rose-colored glasses on when they are not worried about dying every day such as the Winchesters are. They tend to mistake the supernatural for freak accidents that they will just have to get over, even if they were involved. However, not all of them are like this, though. For some, that flash of something inhuman and dangerous becomes their life. Like Lucas. Like Ellie, and Sam, and Dean.

Lucas is still rolling through a panic attack. Ellie wishes she could go to him, if it will even help him. The lake monster is still out there, and it just claimed the life of yet another victim. Its kill rate is nearly up to one person per day. Sam said this would happen.

"Dad?" Andrea sounds out, softly and concerned. Her tone is tiny again. The Sheriff is looking at her now, and it clicks for the nine-year-old. Sheriff Devins is Andrea's father. Oh. "What's going on?"

Her dad sighs, shoulders falling. He places his hands on his belt. "Something happened to Bill Carlton."

Fear is transparent behind her eyes. "Did he – "

"Right now, we don't know what the truth is, but I think it would be best if you and Lucas headed on home."

Andrea nods and relents. At the mere mention of his house, Lucas lurches out of his seat and beelines towards Ellie like he has time and time again. The point of contrast now, though, is that he is forcing eye contact with the girl. He yanks her out of Sam's hold and his hands crawl up her right arm. His eyes are glazed over in a panic and pleading with her. Lucas is whining and whimpering and saying-not-saying too much for Ellie to understand.

Ellie puts her left hand on top of one of Lucas' that are desperately grabbing at her other arm. Her eyes collide and burn out with his own. "Hey, Lucas – What's wrong? Lucas – "

The boy is trying to tow and claw her out the door. Sam stops Ellie from being dragged away, Dean is attempting to comfort Lucas by telling him that it is okay over and over. Andrea dislodges her son, and he goes limp in her arms with tears in his eyes.

Lucas' mother informs him: "I'm sorry, sweetie, but she can't play tonight." With that, she swiftly takes Lucas by the shoulders and ushers him out of the police station he had so badly wanted Ellie to exit with him. Lucas stares back at Ellie until he is on the other side of the blurry door.

Sheriff Devins stomps back into his office. Ellie faces Sam and Dean. Her mouth is open, but she cannot swallow down. She can feel her eyes sludging down her cheeks.

"I don't know what to do." she is the one who sounds anxious now. Dean tells her it is okay, and Sam lets her know that it is not her fault, and now Ellie is getting whisked away like Lucas did because it is all kids can really do.

Sitting in the stiff chairs of Sheriff Devins' office is a harrowing experience for Ellie. Dean and Sam report the details of Bill Carlton's so-called vanishing, but the man is short with them in turn. He leans over on a pause to take their words in, permitting blocks of hope to tower, before raining down ice that slithers right beneath Ellie's collar. "And I'm supposed to somehow believe this? Listen, I've sonar-swept that entire lake – top to bottom – multiple times and found nothing." There is this lingering bitterness within him left over from Lucas' emotion-fueled burst at Ellie. It is confusing why his grandson pouring out all he can to get a message across would anger the Sheriff.

Ellie keeps her neck bent and holds onto the sides of her seat for dear life. Her legs aren't long enough to meet with the floor, her feet too big for her shoes.

"On top of that, you're not even wildlife service. That's right, I looked you up. The department's never even heard of you two. Not to mention, last time I checked, which was yesterday, wildlife specialists don't have a babysitting service." The baby needed sat lifts her head sadly up. There is so much anger here and it could have been avoided, but not reporting Mr. Carlton would have made them more guilty. Being caught up in sheets of white lies wrapped around the big one is embarrassing, but it is more mortifying when the truth is what is convicting them of deceit. No one believes what they do not understand. "So, not only did you just describe to me something that is impossible, but you also lied about who you are."

Dean is not taking off his armor. He purses his lips and blinks back disbelief. Swinging his head around, he points intentionally to Sam. "See? I told you this would happen." Dean situates himself back into place and clears his throat. "Now, we can explain this. Ellie here is our baby sis – "

"Enough." Sheriff Devins shoots down Dean's casual bravado. He is stony. "I don't want to hear it. No more lies."

"Actually, that one wasn't – " lowly speaks Dean out of the side of his mouth until Sam kicks his foot. He cuts off with a muted groan in pain. Ellie sees Dean zap an annoyed glance at Sam. Her eyes are glued to him because she is scared and needing him to save them like he regularly does. All he can do this time is swallow and soften his eyes at her.

Following the intermission before they find out their fate, Devins resigns himself to a solution. "The only reason you're breathing free air is because one of Bill's neighbors across the lake saw him out on his boat just before you did. So, it looks like we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials, call Child Protective Services, and hold all of you as material witnesses for Bill Carlton's disappearance."

At that, Dean is pissed. He is sucking in his jaw and tilting his head back. Sam's mouth twitches. Ellie's heart is thudding down hard on wet pavement. Most of the Sheriff's words fly over her head, but she does know they are in trouble – bad trouble. To Ellie, it feels like the whole police department is hearing their secrets being gutted in this closed off room. A phone rings on the other side of the wall and she listens to a steady murmured voice pick up the line. The dull blinds on the office windows reflect a shadow float by.

The counteroffer rumbles in: "Or, we can chalk this up as a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again." Sheriff Devins jabs the words at them with his finger. This one is the right decision, but Ellie mildly thinks it still sounds wrong because of how forceful he presents it.

Sam's nod initiates his voice, "Door number two sounds good." he agrees.

"That's the one I'd pick."

November 20, 2005

Just outside of Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

Living an unreliable life on asphalt is why Ellie is not a newcomer to packing up the car and checking out of a town without a proper goodbye. Messy and constricted finalities, such as being run out by the local Sheriff for overstaying a welcome, are normal in the hunting world. Be that as it may, nothing feels ordinary about tonight.

Since winter is nearing, the world is doused in a deep blue night by at least five-thirty in the evening. Ellie's favorite pair of shoes that actually fit her toes are back on, but they are stiff and withhold a dirty sink water stench to them. Her eyes follow the bulbs of street lights strung together with rolling power lines as they drive, sinking further away back the way they came. Without a new case around the corner for them to chase after next, Dean is returning to Milwaukee. They can observe from a distance and crackle around Dad's phone number even though he will not ring them.

The reason why the Winchesters left Lake Manitoc is because things were wrapped up, in a way. If Bill Carlton hurt Peter Sweeney, and the lake got revenge, then the vengeful spirit's thirst for blood should be quenched.

The adrenaline of the day has subsided, and Ellie is exhausted, but sleep is unreachable with a jumbled mind. Lucas was still scared. He grappled with her even after Mr. Carlton was dead. He wanted to show her something; he had more to say-not-say, and they silenced him. Lucas looked so scared.

The Impala exhales to wait at a red light, the three-way intersection devoid of any other cars besides theirs. Ellie cannot bite down any longer and repress herself. "De, we can't go." she implores to the murky darkness of the vehicle interior. "I don't want to leave. Lucas was really scared."

Dean deflates, loud with the absence of radio noise. He presses his hands into the steering wheel. "I know." It's weighing on him, too. Ellie thought he was driving slower than usual.

"I think Lucas was talking, but not." It's so hard to explain. Ellie just hopes that they understand, at least one of them has to.

Sam's voice is mellow and tired as he shimmies to turn around, "What do you mean, bug?"

"He wants to show me something." She is caught up in visualizing the boy leading her out of the police station and to another drawing, or house, or person. "I know he does."

Sam declines to ask about Lucas' intentions. It is well known between the three of them by now that no one can particularly predict what Lucas is nudging them into until they are wading ankle deep. The light turns green, but no one moves towards it.

With a breath, Sam walks himself through their day with more soft words, "I thought that if Bill Carlton murdered Peter Sweeney, and Peter got revenge, then the spirit should be at rest. Case closed."

Ellie feels a spike in her stomach again and the beginning twist of her guts ringing themselves out. She hates this hot rush of worry and pain.

"You know, I'm not so sure either, Sammy." Dean adds to side with his sister. Uncertainty clumps on the windshield. The traffic light flicks to yellow. "The kid did look pretty spooked."

All Ellie knows is that something has to move so that she can feel better. "I just want to say goodbye." insists the girl from the back seat. She places a quivering hand on her stomach as if it will bite her. "Please. I don't feel good."

November 20, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

Dean hushes the mutters of the Impala, extinguishing her engine at the front of Lucas' house. Midnight blue hugs the sides of the building. The street is desolate yet comfortable. Distantly, the unwanted nature of them here presses on underneath the street lights and between the trees.

Ellie breathes around in the car before gaining enough courage to reach for the door. The lull of Sam's voice terminates her from adding pressure to the handle. "Are you sure this is a good idea? It's pretty late." He is speaking in Dean's direction. Sam is iffy, as he is most of the time these days. Ever since California, he has been more inclined to go with the option that sets them up to moving on to what is next, even when there is nothing popping up in the distance to attract them. Whatever brings them to the next checkpoint. Whatever brings them answers for the past month's happenings. Whatever brings them closer to Dad. "What if Sheriff Devins sees us?"

"'What if Sheriff Devins sees us?'" repeats Dean in a mocking manner. His eyes roll around. "Can you cool it with the law-abiding citizen crap? You know what we do. We lie through our teeth, and then take off when things get hairy."

Ellie is not so sure if this is a good idea either, but any excuses are insignificant to her in the moment. She has to do this no matter what. She cannot and will not be able to move on without it.

"Sorry for questioning your squeaky-clean morals, Dean. In case you forgot, I haven't exactly been living this life for the past two years." In a way, it is quite casually cruel to arise something so painful but dance around its edges. There is a big scarlet reason why Sam is now permanent in Ellie's life, and it does not have a happy ending.

If Dean is bothered by this remembrance in any way, he does not show it. He falls back into his usual banter. "So, what exactly have these last couple of hunts meant to you, then?" This is not Sam's first rodeo back in the saddle, and he has not exactly acted like a saint during the ride, so why is there suddenly a problem with defying orders from a Sheriff? "Practice rounds?"

"You know, I was studying to become a lawyer." Sam reminds.

"Ugh." Dean groans, waving his hand to get his brother to shut up. "Of course, now you bring it up." He shakes his head before straightening back up and switching the mood in the car. "Nevermind. Let's just go before El hurls in Baby's back seat."

Ellie glares at Dean for that. This factor might have been a leading cause to rushing over to Lucas' place of residence, but it is not all this boils down to for the nine-year-old. There is something bigger, she can feel it in the bones of Lake Manitoc, and Lucas has more to pronounce.

Back on Lucas' porch, the front door flings open the moment Ellie touches down on a wooden plank with a creak to it. Lucas is small like she is yet filling the whole door frame with emotion. He is panting as if he just sprinted, and all the wrongness to whatever is going on is huddled up in his eyes. Before a syllable can walk out of a mouth, Lucas opts for showing – as expected – and grabs whatever piece of Ellie is closest to lead her into the dark.

Half-tripping over each other in the low light, Ellie can hear Dean and Sam thudding behind them. This time the stairs bend and murmur when Ellie is pulled up them. She realizes the staircase is wet, water cascading over its features like a rocky waterfall. Now at the height of the second floor, Lucas halts and presses his tear-stained face into a closed door. More water is pooling out from underneath the slim crack in the door. Ellie takes notice of the liquid bubbling as indiscernible whispers pop out and tumble down the stream. This is not normal water.

Ellie wobbles on the water-logged wooden floor. She reaches out to Lucas and tugs him away from the danger. The boy comes too easily for their compromised terrain and she slips. In the same moment Sam and Dean begin investigating the scene, the two children fall backwards into the wall parallel to the locked door. Lucas' bones are vibrating within Ellie's touch. Words have flown the coop for her, and she has nothing verbally to give him. She is jelly wrapped around a knife.

Dean forcefully kicks at the offending door until it cracks and flings open. It is a bathroom. Ellie doesn't see anything but water on the other side. Sam rushes in without even hesitating, but Lucas screaming at the talking water is enough to get Dean to stay behind. He hovers over the crumbled children. Ellie sees his mouth moving, but she cannot hear anything besides the water crashing into her skull over and over. Her mouth hangs open, shaped around letters that refuse to come up, while she stares helplessly at Dean. Lucas sobs in her hold and Dean wraps the two of them up to add another layer to their embrace. His face may not change from a serious hold, but his eyes splinter and crease.

From what Ellie can see over Dean's left shoulder, the commotion inside of the bathroom is Sam quite literally brawling with an overflowing bathtub. He is thrashing and punching at the opaque liquid. A roar erupts in the house when Sam lifts something up, dislodging the water jammed in Ellie's ear canals, and she catches a glimpse of the back of a head. This is lake water; it is dirty and smelly and alive. This is water from the lake, and it is chewing on Andrea.

Dean keeps Lucas and Ellie plastered to the wall paneling. The bathroom struggle continues for only a moment more until a sharp-pitched squeal scratches the surface of Ellie's brain. Andrea is burped out of the bathtub and her and Sam flop to the floor much like the kids are, scrambling for oxygen to stick to their lungs again.

The water recedes. Ellie unconsciously stiffens when she watches it lick her shoelaces before gathering itself back into the tub and swirling down, down, down.

I am simply going to pretend that I never watched the Supernatural finale and keep writing this fix-it fic cause wtf.