Deception and Desperation – Part 2
A special thank you to everyone who took the time to comment and review on the last chapter. Ya'll just make my day and I swear it encourages me write faster. So, please, if you're liking the story and have the time, please drop a review, comment, critique, etc. I appreciate it all.
Welcome new readers!
I hope you all enjoy these two new chapter. I did write these uncomfortably fast and my editing was sloppy and rushed to say the least, but I was simply getting impatient and tired towards the end and wanted to get something posted soon. I know this isn't my best work, but all the same, hopefully it keeps your interest and you still find it enjoyable to read.
She never intended it to go so far, but intended or not, didn't change the fact that she did it and there was no going back. She, now, had to live with her impromptu decision and play into her reckless scheme she preformed to such a shamefully realistic degree. Despite this all being in the pursuit of saving Dean's life, Ellie was, rightfully, not inclined to rejoice in her success. And if everything she had done wasn't bad enough, there was still no guarantee that her desperate performance would get her what she, ultimately, desired which was to simply be left on her own for a couple hours. All things considered; it was a reckless gamble on her part.
Sam, who had the door ajar a few inches, rapped his pointer finger's knuckle softly against the cheap wood. Despite the fierce desire to charge in at hearing the poor girl's distress, the man forced himself to remain politely on the other side of the door in courtesy of her privacy. Despite knowing Ellie for a couple of months now, the gentlemen in him had a grave hesitancy in charging into the bathroom after a thirteen-year-old girl. It was no mistake teenager had thrown up as he heard the evidence of the unpleasant ordeal very clearly on the other side of the door. However, luckily for Ellie, due to Sam's chivalrous caution, was left blinded to the shameful reality of it all being self-inflicted.
"Ellie? Can I come in?" Sam's calm and gentle voice requested from behind the wooden door; his brow crinkled in concern under his dark brown shaggy bangs as a tender need and urgency tugged at the straining fibers of his muscles to aid the sick teenager.
Normally, if she was actual sick, she would have most likely told the man not to come in as she would be embarrassed to subject the sight and smell of the contents of her stomach to him. Not to mention the fierce and stubborn need to handle insignificant things like a stomach ache on her own, like the enduring and capable teenage Hunter she was. It was just last year she was left in a cabin alone with the flu for a weeks while her uncle was away on a Hunt. It was lonely and no picnic, but she was more than capable of sticking it out on her own because that's simply what she had to do. Despite the natural and very human desire for support when suffering, an imbedded toughness within her would always fight against it, going as far as thinking it was even selfish and weak to want it. The supernatural doesn't take sick days and evil doesn't rest and, like the Hunter's kid she was, Ellie understood that with every ingrained fiber of her being.
Yet, despite her ever-strong desire to not portray herself as needy or burdensome, the truth remained, Ellie was not sick and this was her opportunity to present her 'valid' excuse to be left on her own. And after that horrible tribulation she just put herself through, she was not about to make her efforts die in vain. If she was being honest with herself, she desperately needed something 'good' to come out of her self-inflicted suffering. The man's life hung in the balance and, in Ellie's calculations, it would all be worth it to just get the mere opportunity to save him.
With her young features grimaced in a reluctant expression, Ellie pulled her head back from the toilet bowl, her fanning brown locks brushing back against the sides of her feminine profile as she sat back on her haunches, resting her backside against the thick heels of her sturdy boots. With a humming moan grumbling against her burning throat, she reached up and wiped the back of her slate brown jacket sleeve across her mouth ridding herself of the lingering blots of saliva around her red tinted lips.
"Yeah." Ellie accepted drearily feeling a rightful shame beginning to burn a concentrated and potent ache in the dead center of her petite chest.
With her expressed permission, Sam pushed the door open further and took two short strides into the small bathroom space. Sam pulled the door back on its tarnished brass knob to peer around its frame at the young teenager who sat on the faded burnt orange linoleum tiles with her slim shoulders slumped in a dismal posture. Ellie tilted her gaze up to look at the tall Hunter, her paled gloomy features dulled in a bleak expression showing the man to be as miserable as she felt. And what made it all the more shameful was the deceptive girl didn't even have to 'act' as she, truly, felt horrible not only from the unpleasant ordeal she put herself through, which was downright disturbing in its own right, but the gutting and sickening guilt of being so outrageously deceitful then she had ever been in her entire life.
Ellie was fully and compressively aware this was no little white lie she was concocting. It was intentionally manipulative, lying to a drastic extent, in attempt to take advantage of their kindness, particularly Sam's, as her hope laid on the man's sympathetic nature. And regardless of her dire reasoning, it, rightfully, made her sick to her stomach. The only thing that kept her holding on was the constant promise that it was all in the name of saving Dean. Her dishonesty was horrible, there was no question about it, but it was regrettably necessary and she was only doing what she had to do to keep the man alive. Call her crazy, but after going through the traumatizing experience of witnessing Dean lying in that dreadful basement unresponsive all alone made something within the troubled girl's sanity slip into survival mode. In addition to living in the haunting shadow of her parents' death and her uncle's continued fight for survival on the run, it was all proving to be devastatingly damaging to the young teenager's tender soul leaving deep embedded scar within her heart driving her into a desperate state of urgency and distress.
In Ellie's rationality, she was just resorting to her right to do whatever was in her power to save those she cared about and, to her, that was no bad thing. They saved countless people's lives fighting against the supernatural and it just seemed fitting and just to spare the heroes of the trade. Dean was a good man and his life mattered just as much as everyone else's and Ellie was tired of accepting the pain of doing nothing when she had the capabilities and the skills to attempt to make a difference. And come hell or high water, she was going to find the balls to bite the bullet and do what had to be done despite the gutting shame of it all. There was no getting around her care for the Hunter and she was prepared to endure what she had to endure to see her plan through and that was all there was to it.
The distinct sour smell of stomach acid wafted into Sam's nostrils as he his eyes briefly cast to the open toilet glancing at the evidence instinctively before grasping onto the opened lid and gently closing it shut. Pressing his finger down on the chrome flush handle, the swooshing sound of water flushing around the bowl echoed against the close avocado-green tile walls of the small bathroom as the vomit was washed away.
With purposeful and calm movement, the man grabbed ahold of the edge of the door frame swinging it away just enough to give him the space he required before easing down into a deep squat, his large toned frame angled to the side of Ellie next to the toilet. The Hunter rested back on the heels of his brown boots slightly as his lean muscular thigh jutted out towards her. He rested his forearms on the top of his jean covered thighs in a casual, somewhat relaxed, manner as his green eyes regarded the teenager with a direct and honest concern, his masculine features softened in compassionate sympathy.
"You alright?" Sam inquired gently, his calming tone vibrating soothingly against his deepened vocal cords. Without thinking much of it, the kind man reached out, instinctively, and caressed his large palm on the side of her flushed cheek cupping under her sharp feminine jawline in a tender display of his concern and regard. His large palm was warm and consoling against her flushed skin and an unexpected powerful warmth of gratification heated within her chest and if it wasn't for the circumstances of her lying through her ass, she might have been obliged to dip her head to the side and press her cheek against his touch in trusting appreciation. However, the fact remained she was lying through her ass, and felt underserving of the sweet man's kindness so she remained still in self-punishment.
His touch was very brief and was only a little longer than a second before he removed his warm palm from her face. Although subtle and sort-lived, it was done in such a gentle and tender way that demonstrated a genuine and direct care towards her and Ellie was not so dimwitted that she was compelled to notice. Although the compassionate man treated everyone with a certain level of respect and kind regard, there seemed to be this growing fondness and parental-like affection impeded into his manner towards her, like she was in some way becoming special to him on a personal level, giving her a sense of being valued, or even cherished, which, in turn, made the knot of guilt in Ellie's gut twist horribly.
"No." Ellie's hushed voice answered uncharacteristically, elevating the glumness in her manner with calculating exaggeration, loathing every second of her disgraceful manipulation. Ellie would often try to hide her pain and suffering from Sam and Dean and down play her distress in order to prove herself as capable and worthy of participation in the Hunting world despite her age, but not this time. This time, unfortunately, she had a motive and goal to reach in the pursuit of saving Dean's life and she needed Sam to believe she was really sick, too sick to leave the motel. Therefore, she needed to play it up like the shameful little actress she felt like.
"I don't feel good." Ellie groaned unhappily dipping her head downwards toward her lap instinctively hiding her face away from the kind man she was lying to, feeling the hindering guilt press deeper into her gut by her extreme dishonesty.
The spanking Dean gave her for lying back at the Roosevelt Asylum flashed within her memory sparking a whole new wave of grave and weighted disappointment in herself as she was deliberately lying straight to the man's face in such a scheming and purposeful fashion. The echoes of their heavy words sounded, with vivid recollection, in Ellie's young ears.
No lie is ever harmless, lying to us will never be okay, you do not get to keep things from us…
Despite the unnerving and healthy apprehension she felt about the horrible licking she would get if she was caught in her deceptive ruse, that's not what troubled her young mind the most. It was the severe disappointment, perhaps even hate, that would, likely, accompany it.
The lines within Sam's softened expression scrunched up into a pensively worried grimace, the crinkles along his brow creasing deeper in genuine concern and sympathy. Ellie didn't usually complain about her problems, or even make them known as the private teenager had a rather frustrating talent of keeping things hidden from them and Sam would go as far as saying the little girl was sneaky and determinedly cunning when it came to concealing her secrets. The observant Hunter dubbed her as rather stubbornly stoic when it came to physical discomforts, so Ellie flat-out telling him that she did not feel good only heightened Sam's apprehension coming to conclusion that she must really be feeling poorly to express it so bluntly and openly. The kind man even went as far as surmising that he perhaps he was finally gaining a certain level of trust from the teenager, but unfortunately, he couldn't have been more wrong as his sympathetic care for her blinded him towards the disturbing reality.
"You think you're gonna throw up again?" Sam asked in a solemn, but comfortingly calm manner, prepared to lift the lid back up and hold her hair back for her if it came to it.
Ellie shook her head slowly from side to side keeping her gaze fixed down on her denim thighs continuing to give Sam the view of the crown of her head. "No, sir." Ellie mumbled meekly which, she noted with shame, was the first honest thing she said to the concerned man.
Sam inhaled a deep rush of air through his nose before sighing it back out feeling his kind heart pulse with an aching empathy for the young teenager he cared about. A sudden shameful-filled concern rose within his conscience as he couldn't help, but surmise that her sickness was stemmed from the tremendous stress, exhaustion and disregard for personal and basic needs which was something he, inexcusably, neglected to foresee and prevent back in Indiana.
"Alright, let's get you off the floor, sweetheart." Sam encouraged graciously extending his forearm out towards her offering his large palm up for her assistance like the considerate gentleman he was.
Ellie felt the lines within her glum expression twitch into a brief grimace of dejected guilt and disgust in herself. She didn't deserve to be helped up and his additional term of endearment in calling her 'sweetheart', which he never called her before, was not aiding in her guilty suffering one bit. It made her want to groan in remorseful frustration as it was just another clear indication of the man's genuine and personal care for her. He was making the tremendously hard task of lying to him almost unbearable.
There was a beat of contrite hesitancy as Ellie's muscles strained and pulled against her in moral confliction before she lifted her dipped head and forced herself to reach her arm out in acceptance. She clasped her hand within his opened palm, situating the space between her thumb and pointer finger against his, reminding her of just how considerably larger his hand was compared to her own. Sam constricted his strong fingers around her petite slender hand, grasping onto her with a firm, but notably gentle hold, hoisting her up onto her feet as he simultaneously rose to his full height.
Once Ellie's boots were planted firmly against the washed-out linoleum tiles, Sam hooked his long arm around her petite frame until his large palm rested on her slender shoulder. Sam cupped his large palm around the ball of her shoulder before doing the same to the other and in a guiding and caring manner, steered her to stand in front of him until she was facing the old pedestal sink.
"Go ahead and rinse your mouth out." Sam prompted gently behind her, aware that the lingering taste of vomit was severely unpleasant and giving the girl that small relief was welcomed thought.
Ellie nodded once in respectful acknowledgment at Sam's reflection in the aged mirror that was tarnishing and blackening around its edges. Purposefully avoiding eye contact with herself in the old mirror as she couldn't even bear to look her own self in the eye at the moment, Ellie turned her attention downward to the old, 1930s style, pedestal sink which had two separate fossettes. Ellie reached her slim arm out and turned the tarnished chrome cross knob labeled 'cold'. The friction of the eroded metal grinded and squeaked against each other as the cold water spat from the left spigot unexpectedly harsh making Ellie turn back on the cross knob slightly until a steady and manageable flow poured from the old tarnished fossette. Ellie cupped her hands under the running stream of cold water that prickled icily against her warm palms. The teenager's movements were slow and mundane as she dipped her head down feeling a self-punishing hesitancy pull on her muscles as she was none too eager to give herself any undeserved relief, but despite herself, Ellie forced herself to carry on and bent her torso over slightly as she brought her cupped hands of cold water towards her lips. With her dark brown locks fanning the sides of her profile, the teenager tipped her cupped hands towards her lips as she sucked in a gulp of the cleansing water. She swooshed the cooling liquid around in her mouth feeling the bile sour taste of the vomit water down. Curling her dampened slim fingers gently around the framing locks about her face, Ellie drew them back as she spat the tainted water into the old porcelain basin before cupping her hands under the rushing cold water for a second rinse. After spitting out the second mixture of salvia and tainted water into the dull old basin, the acerbic taste of the stomach acid still lingered slightly around her taste buds, but was considerably weakened by the cleansing rinse. However, the guilt of what she had done had was not weakened in the slightest.
Bringing her head up, Ellie reached for the small white washcloth that hung on a surprisingly new-looking shiny chrome ring to the right of the aged mirror. Ellie grabbed the thin scratchy white cloth and wiped it across her lips and dried her hands before hanging it back up on the chrome ring somewhat neatly.
"Alright, I want you to lie down on the bed for a while." Sam proclaimed, his smooth voice leveled out into gentle manner, but there was this clear edge of firmness to it that indicated it was no request or suggestion.
With her youthful features wilted in a dreary frown, Ellie nodded her head once in reply to Sam's towering reflection within the aging mirror. Although she would normally give him the affirmation of a 'yes, sir', as that was how she was raised, Ellie found herself having a hard time speaking any words to the man, because no matter what she said, her words were all, ultimately, driven by a scheming lie. It seemed the more she spoke, the worse she felt and there was this misguided and forced attempt on her part to make herself feel 'better' by speaking as little as possible. However, it, rightly, gave her little to no relief as it was all one big clusterfuck of falsehood and there was no way to sugar coat that nasty reality of it all. No matter how much she wished to down play it or make it 'less' manipulative, there was really no way to alleviate the magnitude of her deception accept to come clean immediately and put a full stop to this shitshow of dishonesty. And in a perfect little world of bacon cheese burgers and ice cream, she might have considered it, despite the enormous ass whipping that would accompany it, but she wasn't in a perfect world and, in her desperate adolescent mind, that noble sentiment was not even on the table for consideration as it would be over her dead body to lose her opportunity or, more appropriately, over Dean's dead body, and that was just not going to happen.
Situating his guiding palms gently on Ellie's slender shoulders, in a steering and fluent motion, Sam rotated with Ellie around towards the opened door. It wasn't until Ellie took a step towards the threshold; did Sam release his hold on her shoulders allowing Ellie to walk out into the kitchen area. Sam turned his head to the side slightly before swiping his palm down on the black light switch on the inner wall of the bathroom darken the bathroom and cutting off the buzzing fan above.
As soon as Ellie entered the open space of the large divided room, a horrible exposing awkwardness seemed to come over her giving her the excessively odd and irrational sense that all the inanimate objects in the room were suddenly staring at her in judgment, shinning a spotlight onto her presence. Ellie felt her body, automatically, close in on itself a touch as she pressed her biceps against the outer sides of her slim torso and shrugged her shoulders up by her ears slightly. Feeling like the walls within the motel room were closing in on her, a driving eagerness built up against her edgy nerves as she trended her boots at a hastened pace towards the adjacent queen bed making a specific point to not look at Dean the whole way despite feeling his keen eyes following her every step she took. She was absolutely kicking herself for ripping off her ballcap like a damn fool. She felt exposed with it off at the most normal of circumstances, but, now, since she was painting a picture of complete and utter bullshit she might as well be stark naked as that is how felt.
Dean brows were furrowed into a deep frown of perplexed concern as his intent eyes watched the girl's somewhat stiff frame stride rather hastily over to the opposite bed appearing dreadfully awkward and uncomfortable, not at all missing the fact that the kid was purposefully not looking at him. If he didn't know any better, (and he didn't), he'd say she was embarrassed about something which, in his defense, wasn't altogether wrong. And if he was betting on the 'I think I'm gonna be sick' announcement she made, it didn't take much of Dean's decerning to concluded there was something physically ailing the young teenager.
"You okay, kiddo?" Dean urged calmly, but there was an elevated edge of concern in his husky voice as he angled his slouching frame slightly to look over his hunched shoulder.
With her back to the man, Ellie halted her feet in the center walkway between the two queen beds, only inches from the edge of the firm mattress. Ellie wanted to give him a 'yes, sir' feeling her body instinctually favor that response. However, she had an objective that could very well give the man his freedom to live, therefore, she continued to lie like a dead dog on the side of the road.
"No, sir." Ellie mumbled meekly in a dispirited and drained tone as she dipped her head down slightly setting her gaze upon the thin faded yellow comforter. She wanted to find comfort in the fact that she technically told the truth as she was not 'okay' in many ways, but Ellie was not morally dimwitted and she knew fully well he meant physically and the thought, unsurprisingly, gave her not one ounce of consolement.
With a knot of guilt constricting in her chest rather painfully, Ellie bent her torso forward and placed her palms on top of the rigid springs of the cheap mattress before raising her knee and climbing onto the bed. The young teenager sluggishly adjusted herself to lay her slim frame across the scratchy nylon fabric of the thin yellow comforter making another distinct point to be facing in the opposite direction of Dean's attentive gaze. She grabbed a hold of the flatten pillow under her head and shifted her jean covered thighs upwards, bringing her knees towards her chest into a somewhat fetal-position. While her glum and detached behavior had a great deal to do with the severe moral discomfort of being extremely deceitful, rather than some expressive acting skills, it was, all the same, fortunate for the little teenager. From the outside her actions depicted someone feeling ill and the two Hunters bought it, hook, line, and sinker. And why wouldn't they? She threw up after all.
With a growing concern of unease beginning to grip at his already tense limbs, as he had never seen Ellie act this pitifully detached before, Dean cast his attention to Sam in the kitchen section of the room who had just finished picking up Ellie's backpack and beloved ballcap that she had been strewn carelessly onto the floor. With his grip firmly constricted onto the top black haul strap, Sam grabbed ahold of the top of one of the high back kitchen chair's scarping its black feet across the short dense fibers of the dark grey carpeting away from the table. With ease, he hoisted her black backpack upwards and placed it on the green floral seat cushion before situating her navy cap on top in a somewhat neat and orderly manner.
Feeling his brother's watchful eyes boring into him, Sam turned his gaze towards Dean's slumped, but noticeably stiff frame, his forearms pressed heavily into the rigid muscles of his flexed thighs. The man's eyebrows were raised high on his forehead, the crinkles within his brow indented in an impatient and somewhat irritated manner, giving his brother an urgent and prying look that all, but read 'you gonna fill me in?'
"She threw up." Sam informed bluntly in a wilted and regretful tone that was lined with sighing pity. Sam casted his gaze downward for a brief moment of reflection feeling the weighted guilt of his inattentiveness back in Indiana press down heavily on his burdened shoulders.
With his stiff and fatigued muscles aching slightly, Sam tracked through the large opening of the archway before settling his boots just a few feet from the foot of the queen bed where Dean sat. Sam angled his broad shoulders towards the teenager's curled up frame, resting his palms on his lean hips in a weary and pensive stance. With a troubled expression crinkling across his brow, he sighed out a stream of heavy air through his nose as he weighed the less than preferable options he was faced with.
"You think you can come with us to the clinic, Ellie?" Sam asked needlessly already knowing the answer feeling a grave reluctance tugged harshly against his tensed muscle fibers as everything within his instincts fought against leaving the girl alone in the motel room. Not only because she had the red stain on her record of running off on them once before, but because demons were after Caleb and Sam did not like her being out of his sight for long periods of time regardless of unlikelihood of anything happening within a secure motel in the span of a couple of hours. Despite being left in a motel room many times throughout his childhood for days, or even several weeks at a time, it was not something he was comfortable with yet and if there was another alternative that was best for both Ellie and Dean, Sam would not hesitate to exploit it. But as it was, there was no third option to do right by them both without leaving Ellie behind to rest.
Not to mention, there was also a prominent and ever-rising guilt that pressed against his better judgement more than he realized. No matter how valid his excuse was for being emersed in his research, the admirable man could not downplay his inattentiveness towards the teenager's basic needs back in Indiana. Despite his specific orders and encouragement, it seemed trusting the teenager to take care of herself during such a distressing situation, was not only heedlessly naïve on his part, but embarrassingly neglectful and just plain stupid. And the self-reflecting man couldn't help, but attribute Ellie's illness to being overwrought with the enormous stress, pressure, and exhaustion that came upon them in the last couple day. It made logical sense to the discerning twenty-two-year-old that she was simply overwhelmed to the point where it was physically taking a toll on her young developing body. He needed to remind himself, although she was a tough little thing, she was only thirteen and did not have the experience and the hardened temperament to cope on a grown Hunter's level. A situation like this would prove difficult for the average grown adult, let alone one who was just barely a teenager and for a man who prided himself on his vigilance, his failure to heed to something so logically obvious, not to mention, damaging to the poor girl, had him feeling downright God-smacked by his stupidity, if not outright ashamed.
And if that wasn't bad enough, he was fully aware of Ellie's sneaky tendencies to keep things hidden from him, yet, he failed to heed to it and that weighed on the introspective man's overburdened conscience a bit more heavily than he was prepared for. In his mind, he had already let her down by not being there for her in that basement where she was forced to suffer through an ordeal no thirteen-year-old should ever have to go through. And on top of that, it seemed he failed her after the fact as well by not ensuring she was taking care of herself properly. And, now, that it came to her being sick, something he was sure he could have prevented if he had just paid a speck more attention, the man had tremendous trouble depriving her of the much-needed rest her young body required to recover. She practically saved Dean in his absence; he owed this little girl a lot and it would seem, the very least he could do was grant her the basic privilege of time and space to recuperate.
Ellie was a child, a Hunter's child, but a child, nonetheless, and it would seem her developing body desperately needed time to calm down and decompress from the burdening stress of it all. And there was no getting around that his brother was in a considerable amount of pain and needed the medicine. He either had to force her come with them and deprive her of the obvious desperate rest she needed or he could give her an ounce of trust and allow the tired sick little girl to stay in the motel room to sleep and recover.
"No." Ellie responded in a mumbling disheartened tone that sounded pitifully depressing to her own ears. If she didn't feel so gosh darn horrible about how full of shit she was, she might have found her 'acting' impressive. Although, it was smug and self-servingly heedless thinking on her part as it was the deeply rooted guilt in her voice that she was hearing.
Sam slowly closed his eyes feeling a burning sensation engulf around the outer rims of his sockets as the effects of exhaustion from driving through the night were getting to him. He inhaled a deep steadying breath through his nose feeling his chest rise as he attempted to reign in his emotions and keep a level head. His brother was dying, Ellie was sick, likely from his shameful neglect, and the burdening stress and exhaustion of it all had the poised man, understandably, fighting to keep a steady and rational mindset.
Sam exhaled his breath out through his nostrils feeling his broad chest collapse back down as he opened his eyes back up to regard the back of little girl's enclosed laying frame. To Sam's masculine gaze, Ellie appeared so vulnerable as she laid curled up in her fetal-like position looking even smaller than her petite five-foot build which, unknowingly, only seemed to play to her advantage.
"Alright, you stay here while Dean and I go to the clinic. We should only be an hour or two at most." Sam announced feeling a rather unexpected and powerful hesitancy fight strongly in confliction against his conscience as his body automatically pushed in favor of his natural and gut instincts to keep her within his sight.
Utterly God-smacked, Ellie felt her breath suddenly shoot up into the throat clogging her airway as the fibers in her muscles constricted and tensed fiercely under her skin feeling an apprehensive hope rise within her at the man's astoundingly promising words. Her russet eyes rounded and flashed in exhilarated astoundment as she could hardly believe her own ears. Her opportunity to get away was becoming so close she could practically touch it. However, she might as well have been hit in the face with a wet mop, when Dean's powerful voice pipped up in intervention.
"Over my dead body." Dean declared ironically, his tense voice deepened with severe disapproval, feeling an adamant rigidness set against his tough skin, absolutely appalled at his brother's outrageously stupid decision.
I know, it was a very short chapter, but the next one is just a click away.
Thanks for reading!