AN: Long time no see, friends! I have no excuse this time except a dozen or so life-changing events, as always, lmao. But now I do have the great pleasure of telling you that this story is officially complete! That is, I've written everything, but there is still so so so much editing to do!
I really wanted to finish editing this and start posting today because it is my dear, dear friend's birthday! They've been such a cheerleader for me in finishing this story, I truly could not have done it without them! So, the last 7 chapters of this story (and the last 9 outtakes) are brought to you by and for Maddie! Happy Birthday, Darling! I am not exaggerating when I say you've been a lifeline in finishing this.
Enjoy!
Addendum
(n.)
A thing to be added; an addition.
Chapter Twenty
Something Wicked
aka
Sleep with One Eye Open
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma: June 2018
Elena steps into the empty motel room, intent on grabbing her jacket quickly and getting back to Dean who is waiting for her in the car on their way to a movie. Sam is off looking for a new case, uninterested in the bad action flick Dean picked.
Her jacket is just inside the door, thrown over a chair. She has it within her grasp by the time she realizes what's wrong with the room. Frowning, she lets go of her jacket, straightening up to walk over to the end of the bed she's sharing with Dean.
Neatly folded at the end of the bed is Dean's flannel and her jeans that she wore in Chicago. The only clothing she'd had with her there that actually belonged to her while she was pretending to be Katherine. She'd felt some regret, leaving them behind – a light blue and white plaid, the flannel is her favorite of Dean's, and the jeans are comfortable – but there hadn't been time to go back for them.
"Kat?" Elena questions aloud to the empty room. In their last conversation Katherine complained about having to clean up after Elena without even getting to enjoy the show. She pointedly let Elena know that she would be keeping the clothes and makeup Elena had donned in her Katherine masquerade, but she hadn't said a word about Elena's own clothes that she left behind.
Elena fingers the collar of shirt. Impulsively, she raises it to her nose, expecting the scent of Katherine's expensive perfume, her own sweat, and the familiar, comforting scent of Dean himself. She's surprised to find it smells freshly of laundry detergent and dryer sheets, and so do her jeans. Amused, she imagines Katherine in a 24-hour laundromat, washing Elena's clothes before she returns them, in and out like a ghost.
She laughs at the thought – Katherine probably had them cleaned by a fancy laundry service then had a taste of the laundress.
"Thank you," she says aloud, bemused and well aware that no one can hear her.
She tucks the clothes into her bag, grabbing her jacket on her way out to meet Dean.
Alone in a coffee shop, Sam explores a website he found when he googled the curse of the sun and the moon. Called the Guardian's Archive, it's a lovingly curated archive of Professor Isobel Fleming's research into the paranormal. Her research seems to mostly center around Mystic Falls, Virginia, of all places – Elena's hometown.
In the bottom corner of the screen there is a pop-up.
"Chat with the moderator," Sam reads out loud.
Hesitantly he clicks on the pop-up. A chat box opens up and Sam stares at it.
Hello
What can the Guardian do for you today?
Slowly, Sam types his reply.
Hey
Can you tell me about the curse of the sun and the moon?
Sam holds his breath, waiting for a reply.
The curse of the sun and the moon can be found in cultures all over the world
It promises a way for either the children of the moon or the slaves of the sun to escape their curse
Frowning, Sam replies.
Children of the moon, that's werewolves, right?
Correct
So who are the slaves of the sun? he asks.
Vampires
He nods in comprehension. It makes sense, vampires are kept in the shadows because of the sun's fatal powers.
How do they break the curse?
Sam holds his breath, waiting for a reply. Time seems to stretch into infinity.
A sacrifice – a human sacrifice.
Before Sam can ask another question, the moderator asks him one.
How did you hear about the curse of the sun and the moon?
Sam keeps his answer vague.
A friend
Can they just sacrifice any old human?
Sam taps his finger impatiently against the table as he waits for a reply
Of course not
It has to be a specific girl
Sam knows what's coming next like he knows the back of his hand – his vision tilts and wobbles and then the answer is on his screen in bold, stark black.
A doppelganger
In Route to: Fitchburg, Wisconsin
"Yeah, because you probably missed something, that's what," Dean is saying.
Sam shakes his head. "Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers – I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates, right?"
Dean rolls his eyes but nods. "Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy."
"Well, I'm telling you I looked and all I could find was a big steaming pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something I don't know what," Sam replies. He glances back at Elena. "Should we even be going back to Wisconsin this soon?" he asks her, concerned.
She nods. "We were only there for one night, Sam," she reminds him. "I'm sure John has a good reason for sending us there."
Dean agrees. "Maybe he's going to meet us there."
Sam chuckles derisively. "Yeah." He looks at Dean. "'Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point."
"You're a real smartass you know that?" Dean replies. "Don't worry, I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing."
Sam isn't so sure. "Yeah? What makes you so sure?"
Dean is tired of Sam's bad attitude. "'Cause I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right."
Sam gives him an incredulous look. "No, it doesn't."
Dean ignores him. "It totally does."
Sam glances back at Elena for backup. She shakes her head.
"C'mon, Sam, we've gone further with less information to go on," she reminds him.
She rests her chin on the back of Dean's seat, tantalizingly close. The lightest exhale and the back of Dean's neck is covered in goosebumps.
Dean glances back at her, looking both amused and pained. Elena just smiles at him.
Sam rolls his eyes. He thought they'd been bad back in Texas, but since Elena's birthday, they've reached a level of tension that Sam wasn't even aware you could get to. Someone is going to break soon, and Sam's got a feeling it's going to be him – which is not in any way, shape, or form the way it should be.
Fitchburg, Wisconsin
Elena crosses the street to where Sam and Dean are waiting, a trayful of coffee in hand. "Well…the waitress thinks the local freemasons are up to something sneaky but other than that no one's heard about anything weird going on," she says with a shrug.
Sam and Dean are leaned against the Impala, Sam intently focused on the park in front of them.
Dean waits until Elena takes her own bitter brew from the tray before grabbing his own.
"Dean, you got the time?" Sam asks, still watching the park.
Dean checks. "Half past five," he replies. "Why?"
Sam takes his coffee from Elena. She looks at the mostly empty park.
Sam gestures at it. "What's wrong with this picture?"
Dean considers it. "School's out for the summer by now, isn't it?"
There's one woman and a little girl at the playground, but that's it.
"Yeah. So where is everybody? This place should be crawling with kids and their parents fresh out of work, right about now."
The park remains mostly empty.
Elena gestures at them to stay put, then heads into the park herself. As a college-aged woman, she's the one least likely to seem conspicuous in a park.
Sam and Dean watch as she approaches the woman on the bench. Elena says something that makes the woman smile, clearing the tense lines of her face. They exchange words, the woman growing more visibly upset again as she talks.
Elena listens, nodding and then reaching out to touch the woman's arm. She says something, then gets up and returns to them.
"What's up?" Dean asks.
"Kids falling ill with a mysterious illness," she says.
"How many?" Sam asks.
"About five or six," She answers. "All of them serious, they're all hospitalized. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching."
As they enter the hospital, dressed in suits, Sam finally takes a good look at his I.D., and completely forgets to worry about where Elena disappeared to that morning.
"Dude." He grabs Dean's jacket sleeve. "Dude I amnotusing this ID."
"Why not?" Dean asks, genuinely confused.
"'Cause it says bikini inspector on it!" Sam says, exasperated.
Dean chuckles, waving him off. "Don't worry she won't look that close all right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence, Sammy."
Sam is freaking out, not realizing that they've arrived at the receptionist's desk until Dean spins him to face it.
He can only see the back of the receptionist's dark ponytail, not noticing how familiar that ponytail is through his panic.
He clears his throat. "Hi. I'm Doctor Jerry Caplin, Centers for Disease Control."
"Can I see some ID?" the receptionist asks without turning around.
Dean starts to chuckle in disbelief.
"Yeah, of course," Sam says, fumbling for his fake I.D.
The receptionist turns to face him, taking the card from him.
"Bikini inspector?" she asks, eyebrow raised in a familiar way.
"Elena," he hisses.
She gives him a look, tapping her nametag. "It's Helen," she says, looking at him strangely as if he shouldn't know her. Her nametag proclaims her Helen Argos. He can see a sparkle of mirth in her eyes.
Dean is still laughing. He peers over her desk. "Nice pencil skirt," he says.
She raises her left hand, wiggling her ring finger where her mother's engagement ring sits. "Sir, I'm engaged, this is highly inappropriate."
Sam is still recovering from his temporary heart attack.
"Oh yeah, what does your fiancé do?" Dean asks, clearly too amused by Elena's transformation into prim receptionist.
Elena opens her mouth, painted a shade of deep berry pink that offsets her pastel pink shirt and pin-striped, gray skirt suit, "Me, mostly, but he finds the time for the odd job here and there" she says wickedly, reminding them that she herself is far from prim.
Dean chokes.
"Seriously guys?" Sam hisses, finally recovering.
Elena rolls her eyes but recognizes that Sam's blood pressure can't take much more.
"Relax, Sam, I met the regular receptionist at the coffee shop yesterday," she explains. "The poor woman was so desperate to find someone to cover her so she could get away to see her sick mother in Florida that she was handing out business cards in line to anyone who looked vaguely competent." She shrugs. "Luckily, I kept it."
Dean shakes his head, grinning fondly at her. "You're brilliant."
She gives him a coy smile.
Sam chuckles, relaxing just a little. Trust Elena to have a perfect situation fall into her lap. "What's with the ring?" he asks now that he's not about to have a heart attack.
Elena rolls her eyes, tossing her ponytail. "I guess a mysterious plague taking out the poor kids in this town isn't enough to stop half the men who work here from hitting on the temp receptionist," she says with significant disgust. "It was off my necklace and on my finger before Nine."
This reminds Sam of their true purpose for visiting the hospital. "Could you direct us to the pediatric ward please?" he asks.
"Of course." Elena gives them an angelic smile. "But I'm new, so, maybe Kathy would be up for helping?" she addresses am older, tired-looking nurse walking past them.
Kathy smiles back at her. "Of course, sweetheart."
She looks at Sam and Dean. "Now, just go down that hall, turn left and up the stairs," she says, hands moving along as she directs.
"Thanks, Kathy," Elena says.
"No problem, Helen," Kathy replies.
"Yes, thank you, Ma'am," Sam adds.
Kathy nods at them, rounding the corner.
Elena casually catches the end of Dean's tie, looking at it carefully.
"Nice tie," she says sweetly, giving it a light tug.
Dean grins, opening his mouth to respond.
Sam rolls his eyes, grabbing Dean by the jacket causing Elena to let go of his tie as Sam drags him towards the staircase.
Dean glances back at Elena at the reception desk. She leans forward, winking at him playfully. He faces forward, grinning and shaking his head fondly at her.
"Unbelievable," Sam mutters.
"Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydeker," Dean is saying.
Dr. Hydeker nods briskly. "Well, I'm glad you guys are here. I was just about to call CDC myself. How'd you find out anyways?"
"Oh, some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and, uh, he must've beat you to the punch," Dean replies vaguely as they follow him through the pediatric ward.
"So, you say you got six cases so far?" Sam asks, diverting his attention.
Dr. Hydeker nods, looking weary. "Yeah, in five weeks," he confirms. "At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia," he continues. "Not that newsworthy. But now…" he trails off.
"Now what?" Sam asks.
Dr. Hydeker drops his voice. "The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are…wearing out."
A nurse approaches. "Excuse me, Dr Hydeker."
She hands him a chart.
"You ever see anything like this before?" Sam asks.
"Never this severe," Dr. Hydeker answers as he looks over the chart.
"And the way it spreads…" The nurse chimes. "That's a new one for me."
"What do you mean?" Sam asks.
"It works its way through families," she answers. "But only the children, one sibling after another."
"You mind if we interview a few of the kids?" Dean asks.
"They're not conscious," the nurse replies.
"None of them?" Sam asks.
They shake their heads.
"No," she says.
"Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?" Dean asks.
"If you think it'll help," Dr. Hydeker responds.
"Yeah." Dean nods. "Who was your most recent admission?"
The father glances back into the room occupied by his daughters. "I should get back to my girls," he says.
Sam and Dean stand in front of him in the hallway.
"We understand that," Sam assures him. "And we really appreciate you talking to us. Now you say Mary is the oldest?"
"Thirteen," he answers hoarsely.
"Okay." Sam nods. "And she came down with it first, right? And then…"
"Bethany, the next night," the father of two continues, confirming.
"Within 24 hours?" Sam asks, clarifying.
He glances back at the room. "I guess. Look, I, uh, I already went through all this with the doctor."
Dean takes over. "Just a few more questions if you don't mind."
The father nods unhappily.
"How do you think they caught pneumonia?" Dean asks. "Were they out in the cold, anything like that?"
He shakes his head. "No. We think it was an open window."
"Both times?" Dean asks.
He shakes his head again, squinting while he tries to remember the details. "The first time, I, I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed."
"So, you think she opened it?" Sam asks.
The father just looks at them. "It's a second story window, no ledge," he tells them. "No one else could've."
As they walk down the hallway, Sam leans over to Dean, talking in a low voice. "You know this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia."
"Maybe," Dean allows. "Or maybe something opened that window. I don't know man, look, Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we might be barking up the right tree."
"I'll tell you one thing," Sam says.
"What?" Dean asks.
"That guy we just talked to? I'm betting it'll be a while before he goes home," Sam replies significantly.
They exchange a look and continue downstairs to the first floor.
They find Elena at the reception desk. She holds up a finger as she finishes her call, letting them know that she wants them to stick around. They listen as she smoothly handles a journalist and passes him off to the hospital director with ease.
"Find anything interesting?" she asks.
Sam shrugs still not convinced.
"Maybe," Dean answers. "You get a lunch break?" he asks.
She nods. "Yeah, in ten minutes."
"Cool, meet us outside," Dean requests. He hands her a piece of paper.
Elena takes it, reading it. She nods succinctly.
One of the nurses stops on the other side of the desk, smiling at Elena. "Do you need a lunch buddy, Helen?" he asks
"No, she does not," Dean replies.
Elena fights back a laugh, smiling politely at the nurse, Aaron.
"No, thanks. I have plans," she says simply.
Aaron looks disappointed but nods, looking at Dean. "This the fiancé?"
Dean takes Elena's hand easily, kissing her knuckles. "Yup, that'd be me."
Elena rolls her eyes, only Sam catching the move.
"I just have a few more things to wrap up," Elena tells Dean. "I'll be right out." He still has her hand, so she raises their tangled fingers to tap him on the cheek.
Dean laughs at the unbearably cute gesture and kisses her hand again before he lets go, finally relaxing. Still, he stays at the desk until Aaron leaves.
As they're leaving to bring the car around, Dean notices that Sam is smiling at him.
"What's with the stupid look?" Dean asks.
"Nothing," Sam replies, still smiling. "I've always thought Elena would be a great sister-in-law."
Dean rolls his eyes at him. "Shut up," he says simply, but Sam doesn't miss the slight smile he gives at the idea.
Sam shakes his head, still smiling. Talk about stupid looks.
They pull up outside of the address that Elena found in the system for Mary and Bethany's family.
Dean looks at Elena's patent-leather pumps. "It's not gonna be easy to break in with those things on," he observes.
Sam considers this. He goes around the back without a word.
A few minutes later he comes back. "Back door is open," he says simply.
Dean snorts. "God bless small towns," he says, following Sam and Elena.
Half an hour later, the three of them are inside Bethany's bedroom.
"You got anything over there?" Sam asks as he runs a blacklight over the doorframe.
"Nah, nothing," Dean says, sounding very close to admitting defeat as he looks at the normal readings from the EMF reader.
"Yeah, me neither," Sam says.
"Check the windows," Elena suggests from the doorway. She's returning from checking out the parents' bedroom, just in case.
Sam obliges. Noticing something on the outside of the window, he opens it.
Elena comes over to peer over his shoulder and see what he's looking at.
"Hey, Dean?" Sam says.
Elena takes out her phone to snap a picture.
"Yeah," Dean responds distractedly.
"You were right," Sam turns to look at him. "It's not pneumonia."
Dean comes over to look. On the outside windowsill, black with rot against the painted white wood, is something resembling a handprint, with a palm and five, long, spindly, pointed fingers.
"It's rotted," Sam says out loud. "What the hell leaves a handprint like that?"
Dean moves closer to it, a troubled look coming over his face.
"Dean, what is it?" Elena asks.
Dean is too caught up in memories to respond.
Elena repeats his name, concerned.
Dean, still looking at the rotted handprint, replies distractedly, "I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before."
Elena and Sam exchange a confused look.
Dean tears his gaze away from it to look at them.
"He wants us to finish the job."
"What do you mean?" Sam asks. "What happened?"
Dean ignores him for the time being, touching Elena's lower back lightly. "We've gotta get you back, your lunch break will be over soon."
She nods. "Yeah, let's go."
As long as they're working the job, Elena will continue as the hospital's temp receptionist, giving them access to all of the sick children's files, and all of the hospital staff's too.
Since they had to rush Elena back to the hospital for the second half of her shift, there was only time for Dean to tell them the name of the creature that made the handprint. Their last motel was overflowing with a massive family, in town for a family reunion, they hogged the ice machine and shrieked at each other all hours of the night.
So now they're across town, pulling into a new parking lot, hoping for a quieter motel this time around. Elena is drooping, having spent all day at hospital, so she stays in the car while they get out.
"So, what the hell is a shtriga?" Sam asks Dean.
"It's…kinda like a witch, I think," Dean replies. "I don't know much about 'em," he admits candidly.
"Well, I've never heard of it," Sam says. "And it's not in Dad's journal."
"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16-17 years ago," Dean replies. "You were there. You don't remember?"
Sam shakes his head. "No."
"I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitchburg now and kicked us the coordinates," Dean says.
"So, wait, this…" Sam trails off, looking at Dean expectantly.
"Shtriga," Dean supplies.
"Right," Sam says before continuing, "You think it's the same one Dad hunted before?"
"Yeah, maybe," Dean replies.
"But if Dad went after it, why is it still breathing air?" Sam asks, incredulous.
"'Cause it got away," Dean replies succinctly.
"Got away?" Sam asks in disbelief.
"Yeah, Sammy, it happens," Dean says flatly.
Sam looks unconvinced, so Dean lowers his voice to remind him, "Elena's got a whole mess of monsters at her beck and call, and at least one chasing her. It's not like he's dropped every monster he's ever met."
Elena surprises them both by answering through the open window.
"John's never hunted any of them," she says.
"We thought you were asleep," Sam says, feeling caught.
She climbs out of the car. "I'm not," she says simply.
Dean opens his arms for her without even realize it, but she leans against the door instead. He drops his arms, feeling bereft.
She looks between them warily.
Just when Sam is going to burst from the tension, she speaks. "Not everything is easy to hunt." Then she adds a concept that is beyond either of them. "Not everything has done anything worthy of being hunted."
They just stare at her.
"And some things are just really fucking hard to kill," she finishes.
Sam has so many questions, but Dean stops him with a look that tells him Elena will not say anything more, and any questioning might be beyond what she finds acceptable. She's caught them blatantly discussing her involvement with seemingly any number of things that go bump in the night, and from her expression, she isn't pleased.
"What else do you remember?" Sam asks Dean instead.
"Nothin'," Dean says shortly. "I was a kid all right?"
He turns to go inside to the office, Sam staying outside with Elena.
It's a kid who answers the bell that Dean rings.
"A king or two queens?" he recites.
"Two queens," Dean replies.
Before the boy can reply, Elena enters. She leans her head between Dean's shoulders blades, a silent apology for her cold distance before. She snakes her hand into his and he squeezes it affectionately, letting her know he understands.
Elena moves to prop her chin on Dean's shoulder, tall enough to do so in heels. She smiles at the boy behind the counter, who returns the gesture, looking a little shy under her gaze.
Just then, a woman comes in. She smiles at the sweet picture Dean and Elena make, "Hi."
They return the gesture, completing the picture.
"Hi," Dean says, Elena murmuring her greeting a beat behind his. He squeezes her hand, feeling the weight of her against his back, sweetly tired.
"Checking in?" the woman asks, joining the boy behind the counter.
"Yeah," Dean nods.
Elena hums against his neck. He strokes her wrist reassuringly. She's about two seconds from falling asleep standing, he won't be surprised if he has to carry her to the room, but he can live with that.
"Do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner," the woman says to the boy who is clearly her son.
The boy replies indignantly, "I'm helping a guest!"
His mom gives him a look that gets him moving.
He glances back at them. From over Dean's shoulder, Elena slyly winks at him, causing him to grin as he exits the office and returns to their home behind it.
The woman glances between her son and the beautiful woman standing in front of her.
"I've never seen him bashful before," she says, wonder in her tone.
Dean grins at her. "She tends to have that effect on people."
Elena has lifted his arm over her shoulder to settle into her favorite spot at his side, barely registering their conversation.
Dean and the woman exchange an amused look at Elena's sleepy affection.
"She had a long day at work," Dean explains.
She nods in empathy, then starts a new booking for them.
"Will that be cash or credit?"
He hands over a credit card. Through the open door, he can see her older son taking care of the younger, and he finds himself caught up in another memory of being that young and that responsible for his own baby brother.
"Sir?"
It takes Dean a moment to come back to the present.
He takes his credit card from the woman, putting it back in his wallet, Elena humming an inquisitive note in his ear.
"Thanks," he says to the woman.
He runs a hand down the length of Elena's undone hair, settling at her waist, one soothing movement that tells her he's okay.
The woman hands them their keys, and they move to leave. Elena peers around the corner, catching the older boy's attention again. She waves at him, smiling again, and he returns the gesture.
"C'mon," Dean says in amusement.
When their mother joins them, the older boy greets her with as much enthusiasm as the younger. Dean shakes his head fondly. Elena really does have a way with people.
In the motel room that night, Sam is on his laptop, surfing the supernatural websites, his latest hobby.
"Well, you were right," he says to Dean. "Shtriga is a kind of witch."
Elena, yawning, sprawled sideways across she and Dean's bed, cuts him off. "That's an insult to witches."
Sam rolls his eyes. "You got a better definition?"
She sits up. "Well first of all, they have more in common with vampires than witches, since they feed on souls, and second of all, Shrtiga is the female noun, the male noun is Shtrigu or Shtrigan. Since we don't actually know which it is."
They both stare at her.
"Dad couldn't have taught you that," Sam says uncertainly.
"I texted a witch I know while I was at the hospital," she replies simply. She leans over to get her phone from her purse. Dean sits behind her, and she leans back into him, opening up the conversation to show him.
"They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to Ancient Rome," Dean reads from her phone.
Sam listens intently, nodding as it lines up with his research.
"The term Shrtiga is often used interchangeably to mean witch and this particular monster, hence the confusion. The real connotation is bad, ugly old woman who casts evil spells on people."
Dean pauses, "isn't that most witches?" he jokes as an aside.
Elena snorts. "Believe me, if you'd ever seen the witch who told me this, you'd be eating your words right now."
"Is she hotter than me?" Dean asks candidly.
Elena considers this seriously. "Different kind of hot," she decides.
He looks ready to demand an explanation, so Sam cuts in with a bit of his own research. "They feed offspiritus vitae."
"Spiri-what?" Dean asks.
"Vitae," Elena answers. "It's Latin, translates to 'breath of life'. Kinda like your life force or essence."
"So, wait, what kind of hot is this witch?" Dean asks.
She rolls her eyes. "She's like a hot, evil moon," she answers.
He squints. "You also said the witch you called about that crazy Christian witch was hot but evil."
She nods. "Same witch," she confirms.
"Why do you always ask her?" he asks in returns.
"She's the most experienced witch I know," she answers honestly. "Also, she owes me," she adds as an afterthought.
Sam is still thinking about the case. "Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodies were wearing out?"
Dean nods. "So, it takes your vitality maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold."
Sam nods. "Anyway, shtrigas can feed off anyone but they prefer…"
"Children," Elena finishes, a grim look on her face.
"Yeah. Probably because they have stronger life force," Sam continues. "And get this: Shtrigas are 'invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man.'"
Both Dean and Elena shake their head in disagreement, but Dean is the one who answers, "No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds."
"What?" Sam asks.
Elena is mildly surprised; she hasn't scrolled that far down into conversation yet.
"If you catch her when she's eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron," Dean explains. "Ahhh…buckshots or rounds I think."
"How do you know that?" Sam asks.
"Dad told me," Dean replies shortly. "I remember."
"Oh," Sam says. "Huh. So uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?" he asks, a niggling feeling telling him that there is more to the story than Dean has shared.
Dean shakes his head. "No, that's it."
Sam stares at him until he feels pressured to reply. "What?"
Elena, tucked into the curve of Dean's neck, shakes her head, silently telling him to let it go.
"Nothing," Sam replies. He turns back to his computer. "Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first, which ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting."
"What kinda human disguise?" Dean asks.
"Historically, something innocuous," Sam answers. "Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman," he explains. "Which might be how the witches-as-old-crones legend got started," he adds out of respect for Elena's witchy contact.
"Hang on," Dean says.
Elena is still settled against him, and very much not going to move, so it takes some doing for Dean to grab the map from the bedside table beside them, but it's a struggle he's content with.
Dean gestures Sam over, and he settles on the end of the bed. "Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims."
Elena and Sam exchange a look at Dean's thinking.
Elena rubs her cheek against Dean's shoulder. "God, it's hot how smart you are," she says candidly.
Dean grins, continuing, "Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead center?"
"The hospital," Sam realizes.
"The hospital," Dean repeats grimly. "Now when we were there, I saw a patient, an old woman."
"An old person, huh?" Sam asks.
Dean nods. "Yeah."
Sam shakes his head. "In a hospital? Phew. Better call the Coast Guard."
Dean rolls his eyes. "Well listen, smartass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall."
Elena squints her eyes. "Are you talking about Mrs. Hathorne? In room 237?"
Dean nods. "Yeah, I think that's the room number."
Elena shakes her head. "Nope, Mrs. Hathorne is mean and old and paranoid, but she called four times today alone about her daddy's crucifix – hung in her room – needing to be fixed."
"Huh," Dean says in consideration. "I guess you do know all about everyone in the hospital, Little Miss Receptionist. Wanna make a list of any possible suspects?"
She nods. "Can I sleep on it first?" She lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Plus, it'll be way easier to come up with a list at the hospital, where I have access to all of the patient and staff files."
Seeing as Elena is practically asleep in Dean's lap, they take pity on her and agree.
While Elena plays receptionist, Dean and Sam play detective, interviewing some of the families and neighbors of the sick kids.
On their way to the next family, Sam decides to clue Dean in on his latest discoveries.
"You know," Sam begins, heart thundering. "You remember that joke Elena made about the curse of the sun and the moon?"
Dean nods. "Yeah, sure, what about it?"
"It's real," Sam says, knowing he's dropping a bomb.
Dean glances over at Sam quickly before focusing on the road again. "Tell me," he says intently.
Sam nods, swallowing hard. "So, the basic premise is that werewolves are cursed to only change on the full moon, and vampires are cursed to burn in the sun." He takes a deep breath before he gets to the hard part. "But there's a girl" he starts, "a doppelganger" he adds hastily. "And whichever one – werewolves or vampires – sacrifices her first is freed from their curse."
Dean frowns. "That doesn't make any sense," he says finally. "We already know Elena was sacrificed, years ago at this point. I think we mighta noticed if suddenly wolves could turn whenever they wanted or if all the vamps could daywalk."
Sam nods in agreement. "Yeah, so someone really wanted everyone to look for this girl." He's had some time to think about the implications of this lie.
Dean's eyes widen in realization. "Right, get every wolf and vamp in on it, thinking they'll get something out of it."
"So, it stands to reason that the curse must've been personal, just one person who would benefit from sacrificing her," Sam says. He's thought of practically nothing else since speaking to the moderator of the Guardian's Archive.
"So, who?" Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head. "That's the question. If only there was some kind of hint at what kind of monster."
Dean hesitates before he tells him. "Elena's got these uh…" he trails off, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"What?" Sam asks, trying to not sound eager.
"She's got these scars," Dean finishes grimly. Seeing the look on Sam's face he continues. "Not hunting scars. You've probably never noticed, you're not uh, close to her." Dean pauses for a long time again before speaking. "They're on her neck."
Sam stares at him. "They're…?"
Dean nods. "Yeah. They're bitemarks," he says grimly. "There's four total, two on each side. The ones on the right are really faded; and the funny thing is, one of 'em is really faded on the left but the other one?" He shakes his head. "Perfectly pearly white outline of some fucker's teeth."
Sam stares at him, absorbing the information. "They're not from…um, you know?" He's too uncomfortable to say it out loud.
Dean shakes his head. "I don't think she's quite that kinky, Sammy."
Sam turns bright red but nods. He brought that on himself.
"Plus, Gilberts' are a famous vampire hunting family in our world," Dean points out. "I've always been sure they were scars from a vamp attack."
"She's had them as long as you've known her?" Sam asks.
Dean smiles bitterly. "She was wearing a bandage on her neck at her aunt and uncle's funeral."
Sam inhales sharply. "Dean…that's-"
"I know," Dean replies shortly. "I don't think she had the ones on the right yet, though," he adds as an afterthought. "The bandage was on the left and she had her hair pulled over her shoulder like she was trying to cover it, and I think I would've noticed them otherwise."
"What does this mean?" Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head. "Wasn't done."
Sam holds his breath again, waiting for him to continue.
"I saw her October that year, she was having a rough time, so I checked up on her. I saw the scars for the first time then. I asked her about them."
"She had all of them?"
Dean nods.
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'some people just leave their mark on you'," he quotes grimly.
"So," Sam begins slowly. "So, let's say it's just one vampire," he continues. "One vampire has some kind of curse on him, and he needed to sacrifice the doppelganger – needed to sacrifice Elena to lift the curse."
Dean nods along. "It all tracks."
"But what does it mean?" Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head. "I dunno," he admits. "But I think I know who," he continues.
"Who?" Sam asks.
Dean looks distinctly uncomfortable. It goes against his nature, revealing Elena's secrets like this.
"Her friend from Chicago," he reveals at last.
"You think?" Sam asks, taken aback.
"I know," Dean replies. "I figured it out in Texas, he's the one who gave her that scar."
"Holy shit," Sam breathes.
"Yeah." Dean nods in grim agreement. He frowns. "Where'd you get your info on the curse?" he asks.
"I found a website," Sam admits sheepishly. "But it's legit!" he hastens to add. "It's an archive of this Occultist professor's studies, mostly about Mystic Falls, Virginia," he explains.
"That does sound legit," Dean admits reluctantly.
"I talked to the moderator," Sam continues. "He really knows his stuff, I even requested to join his chat room, just to see if there might be anyone else who knows more on there."
"You get in?"
Sam shakes his head. "I dunno know yet, he hasn't gotten back to me."
The hospital lobby is empty as Elena sorts through patients' files so the sound of footsteps is deafening.
She looks up quickly. Down the hall, Dr. Hydeker stands alone, his gaze fixed on her. She stares back at him, wide-eyed. He takes a single step towards her, seemingly transfixed by her. He stares at her like she is the sun and he'd rather go blind than look away. He takes a single step towards her, setting her heart racing in her chest.
The front door squeaks open dramatically, breaking their eye contact.
"Excuse me?" A delivery man approaches her desk, placing a bouquet of flowers on her desk so he can extract a clipboard from under his arm. "Can you sign for these?"
Elena nods, glancing back at Dr. Hydeker. He's gone. She looks back at the delivery man. "Sure," she says, reaching for his clipboard with shaking hands. She can still feel her heart pounding in her chest as her mind races.
They've returned to the motel, still waiting for Elena to get out of work and provide them with their list of suspects. They're just getting out of the car when Dean notices the motel owner's son sitting outside the office, looking morose.
"Hang on," Dean says to Sam before approaching the kid. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks him.
The kid turns to look at him, sniffing through his tears, "My brother's sick."
"The little guy?" Dean asks.
He nods tearfully. "Pneumonia. He's in the hospital."
Dean and Sam exchange an alarmed look.
"It's my fault," the boy says with conviction.
Dean cants his head. "Ah c'mon, how?" he asks.
"I shoulda made sure the window was latched," he tells them between sniffs. "He wouldn't've got pneumonia if the window was latched."
Dean looks at him intently. "Listen to me. I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?"
"It's my job to look after him," the boy says with conviction.
His mom appears from the office, looking frazzled, she begins to list off instructions. "Michael, I want you to turn on the no vacancy sign while I'm gone," as she talks, she loads her overnight bag, a blanket and a pillow into the car, a stuffed bear clutched in her hands. "I've got Denise covering room service so don't bother with any of the rooms."
Michael leaps up. "I'm going with you," he says insistently.
"Not now, Michael," his mom replies tensely.
"But I gotta see Asher!" Michael says, distressed.
"Hey Michael." Dean steps in. "Hey. I know how you feel – I'm a big brother too" Dean gestures at Sam. "But you gotta go easy on your mom right now, okay?"
As Michael's mom closes the car door, she drops her purse. "Dammit!"
Sam steps forward, kneeling down. "I got it," he says.
"Thank you," she replies as he returns it to her.
Dean says, "Listen, you're in no condition to drive – why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital."
"No, I couldn't possibly…" she starts.
He shakes his head. "I'm going there anyway," he tells her. "My fiancée's filling in for the regular receptionist. I was gonna take her to lunch," he says easily.
She nods gratefully. "Thanks," she says to Dean, and then to her son, "Be good."
While she's occupied with saying goodbye to her son, Dean leans over to speak to Sam in an undertone. "We're gonna kill this thing. I want it dead; you hear me?"
Sam is still at the library doing research when he realizes it's almost four, when Elena gets out of work. So, he calls Dean to see if she's been able to find anything.
"Hey," Dean answers.
"Hey," Sam returns. "How's the kid?" he asks first.
"He's not good," Dean replies succinctly, walking down the hallway. "Where you at?"
"I'm at the library," Sam says. "I've been trying to find out as much as I can about this Shtriga."
"Yeah, what have you got?" Dean asks.
"Well, bad news," Sam replies bluntly. "I started with Fort Douglas around the time you said Dad was there?"
"And?" Dean prompts.
"Same deal," Sam says, before beginning a grim recounting of the Shtriga's history. "Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, before that North Haverbrook, and Brockway." He shakes his head, continuing. "Every 15 to 20 years it hits a new town. Dean, this thing is just getting started in Fitchburg."
Dean has drifted back down to reception as Sam talks, listening intently.
"In all these other places it went on for months."
Dean raises a hand in greeting to Elena, who is unusually grim-faced. She hands him a piece of paper.
"Dozens of kids before the shtriga finally moves on. The kids just…" Sam trails off. "Languish in comas and then they die," he finally finishes.
"How far back does this thing go?" Dean asks Sam distractedly as he opens Elena's note.
"Ah, I don't know," Sam admits, readjusting his hold on the phone to confirm the oldest dates he's found on the microfiche. "The earliest mention I could find is this place called Black River Falls back in the 1890s," he says.
Dean is barely paying attention. There's only one name scrawled on the paper. He looks at Elena, eyes wide. She nods imperceptibly. He looks at the note she scribbled under it.
"Shit," he breathes.
Sam clicks over to the next page. "Talk about a horror show…" He trails off, looking at the photo onscreen. "Whoa."
Then he registers what Dean just said. "What is it, Dean?" he asks, distracted by his own discovery.
Dean shakes his head. "Tell you later, what did you find?"
Sam hesitates, then tells him, "I'm looking at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid's bed. One of the Doctors looks like..."
Dean cuts him off. "Yeah, I know who you mean."
"Really, how?" Sam asks, momentarily distracted.
"That's not important," Dean says tensely. "What's up with the photo?"
"This picture was taken in 1893," Sam explains.
"You sure?" Dean asks.
"Yeah," Sam confirms. "Yeah absolutely."
Through the phone he can hear someone speaking.
"It's been a pleasure having you here, Miss Argos," a man's pleasant voice is saying.
Then, Elena's voice, measured and calm. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Dr. Hydeker." She's speaking again. "Thank you, Joanna."
"Of course, is that all of the paperwork?" Joanna sounds anxious.
Sam is tense in his seat; Joanna is the motel owner.
"Yes, that's the end of it," Elena confirms. "You can go back to your son now."
Dr. Hydeker is speaking to Joanna now. "Don't worry," he says. "Your son's in good hands. I'm going to take care of him."
There is a pause, and then Dr. Hydeker is addressing Dean. "So, what's the CDC come up with so far?"
"Well, we're still working on a few theories," Dean's voice through the phone is deadly serious. "You'll know something as soon as we do."
Dr. Hydeker responds, "Well, nothing's more important to me than these kids. Just let me know if I can help."
"I'll do that," Dean says shortly.
At the end of her shift, Elena finds Joanna at Asher's bed. She hands her a cup of coffee with her greeting.
"Thank you," Joanna says gratefully. She glances at the clock. "Shouldn't you be done by now?"
Elena nods. "I am, I just wanted to check on you before we go, see if you needed anything else?"
Joanna shakes her head. "No, thank you, this is more than enough." She raises the coffee cup. "And please, thank your fiancé for me again. You've both been so kind."
Elena simply nods.
For a moment, Joanna is overcome, looking at her son's prone figure.
Elena takes her hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
"I just keep thinking that it easily could've been both of them," she says. "They sleep in the same bedroom. Michael's bed is closer to the window, it's a miracle he's all right."
"Everything is going to be okay," Elena tells her with conviction.
Joanna nods, fervently needing to believe her words to be true.
"You have wonderful sons, and they are so lucky to have you as a mother," Elena says gently.
"You are going to be a wonderful mother someday," Joanna tells her. "If that's what you want," she adds belatedly.
Elena smiles, nodding on rote. "Someday," she says.
If Joanna was paying better attention, she might notice the way Elena looked pained at the thought, although not without longing, and she might ask why a young woman, seemingly in a relationship with a good man, would look so conflicted by the idea of motherhood. If she did ask, Elena would not know what to say. There is no easy way to explain doppelganger genetics to an innocent bystander.
"You were very good with Michael," Joanna continues. "Are there a lot of children in your extended family tree?"
Elena shakes her head. "There's not much of a tree," she says. "More of a branch."
Joanna's face softens with sympathy.
"I have friends with a daughter," Elena continues. "She's amazing."
"How old?" Joanna asks.
"She just turned one in May," Elena replies with a smile. Unbidden, the memory of Hayley in her wolf form pressing one last sweet kiss to her daughter's face rises in her mind. Who had taken Hope to see her mother at the end of the month? Elena had been so consumed by the knowledge that Alaric knew she was not in South America, she'd forgotten to check. Who would take Hope in a matter of days?
"Sweet," Joanna murmurs.
Elena nods, tearing her mind away from New Orleans.
Joanna finally takes a sip. She looks at Elena with wide eyes. "This is better than any of the coffee I've had here."
Elena smiles at her. "Staff lounge," she tells her, leaning in as she shares. "The nurses are very good at making strong coffee."
Joanna laughs.
Elena points out one of the nurses, in the hallway. "That is Betty," she tells Joanna.
Betty waves at them and they wave back.
Elena turns back to Joanna. "Betty's gonna be your hook-up, she'll keep you in the good coffee, and when she goes home for the night, she'll make sure one of the night nurses keeps an eye on you."
Joanna reaches out, squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Helen."
Elena just smiles.
Later in their motel room, Sam has Elena's note in hand, detailing the fact that Dr. Hydeker had only been hired at the hospital for a week before the first kid had gotten sick.
"It didn't occur to me at first," she is saying. "I mean, my dad was a doctor so of course I'd never suspect, but I decided to check his file when I started checking the other employees' and…" she trails off.
Sam shakes his head. "We should have thought of this before," he says grimly, adding "A doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing."
Dean's response is more succinct. "That son of a bitch." He paces the room.
"I'm surprised you didn't draw on him right there," Sam says, worked up.
Dean's response is surprisingly thoughtful. "Yeah well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' hospital reception area."
"Good call," Sam concedes.
Dean continues. "Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something."
Sam makes a face, but he can't disagree.
"And third, I wasn't packing," Dean finishes, the last reason sounding much like himself. "Which is probably a really good thing, 'cause I probably would have just burned a clip in him on principle alone."
"You're getting wise in your old age, Dean," Sam says teasingly.
Elena grabs Dean's arm as he paces past her, pulling him down into her chair. It only takes her a minute to situate herself comfortably in his lap.
"Damn right," Dean says, once she is settled. "'Cause now I know how we're going to get it."
"What do you mean?" Elena asks.
"Shtrigu works through siblings, right?" Dean reminds them.
Sam nods. "Right."
Dean starts, "Well last night…"
"It went after Asher," Elena finishes.
Dean nods. "So, I'm thinking tonight it's probably gonna come after Michael."
"Well, we gotta get him outta here," Sam says, concerned.
Dean shakes his head. "No. No, that would blow the whole deal."
Sam is indignant. "What?"
Elena is thoughtful.
"Yeah," Dean says meaningfully.
"Then you wanna use the kid as bait?" Sam asks, incredulous.
Dean nods.
"Are you nuts? No! Forget it." Sam shakes his head vehemently. "That's out of the question."
"It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way," Dean argues. "If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance."
"Michael's a kid," Sam volleys back. "And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook." He glances at Elena despairingly. "C'mon, Elena, back me up here."
Elena, looking troubled, shakes her head. "How else are we going to kill it?" she asks simply.
"You're both crazy," Sam says.
"Dad did not send me here to walk away," Dean says heatedly.
"Send you here?" Sam is confused. "He didn't send you here – he sent us here."
Dean shakes his head. "This isn't about you, Sam." If Elena wasn't so firmly planted in his lap, he'd be across the room. "I'm the one who screwed up, all right," he admits finally. "It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me."
"What do you mean, Dean?" Elena asks. "How is it your fault?"
Dean just looks away.
"Dean," Sam says. "You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away?" He glances at Elena sideways, thinking of her monsters. He continues without mentioning them. "Now talk to us, man. Tell us what's going on."
Elena rests her cheek on Dean's shoulder.
It takes him a moment, but he finally begins. "Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. It was our third night in this crap room, and I was climbing the walls, man. I needed to get some air."
The two of them are silent as Dean tells them about Sam's childhood run-in with the shtrigu and their dad's ensuing wrath.
"Dad just…" the look on Dean's face is almost too much to bear. "Grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas the shtrigu had disappeared, it was just gone." He shakes his head.
Elena strokes her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
"It never surfaced until now. You know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask. But he…ah…he looked at me different, you know?" He looks down. "Which was worse. Not that I blame him." He straightens, a self-chastising look on his face. "He gave me an order and I didn't listen, I almost got you killed."
"You were just a kid," Sam replies, quietly horrified.
"Don't." Dean shakes his head vehemently. "Don't." He looks fierce. "Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it."
"Elena?" Sam asks.
She looks at Sam, continuing to stroke Dean's hair. "It obviously wasn't his fault, but I don't think he's listening." She turns back to Dean. "I could explain all about logical fallacies and why your dad's respond was more emotional than rooted in any logic, but I don't think you'd be all that interested."
Sam, for his part, is interested. "You think it was an appeal to emotion?"
She shakes her head. "Actually, I think it's false cause."
Dean looks between them. "All right, I'll bite," he says finally, looking slightly confused and defeated. "What the hell is a logical fallacy?"
Sam answers instead of Elena. "A logical fallacy is a mistake or flaw in someone's reasoning," he begins. "So, something happens, and the conclusion drawn by someone about that event is incorrect because of a flaw in their thinking."
"And you think Dad's flaw was false cause?" Dean asks Elena.
Elena nods. "Completely disregarding the fact that you were a child and should've had a babysitter – you should've been with Pastor Jim the whole time," she begins, leaving no room for arguments. "There is absolutely no way of knowing that the shtrigu wouldn't have come for Sam if you did stay in the room."
"But I would've been awake to stop it," Dean argues.
Elena shakes her head. "It just as easily could've come while you were asleep." She taps his jaw. "See the false cause is believing that the shtrigu came for Sam because you left the room. Reality is, Sam was a sleeping child, the shtrigu's preferred victim, regardless of who else was around."
Dean shakes his head, stubborn. "It probably wouldn't have come if I was there at all, though."
"Actually, Michael and Asher sleep in the same room. Michael's bed is closer to the window, but it went straight past him to his brother," Elena says.
"How do you know that?" Sam asks, genuinely surprised.
"Because Joanna told me at the hospital."
Dean just looks at Elena for a moment, clearly shocked.
"Look, I agree that we should take care of it now. We're all adult, trained hunters, but the truth is, there is no evidence that it was your fault back then, Dean. You are not responsible for any of the harm the shtrigu did after it tried to feed on Sam." She cups his jaw. "You and your brother are the most important people in the world to your dad, and he reacted emotionally, but he was wrong. You didn't do anything wrong." She gives him a light smile and a kiss to the cheek.
Sam barely hides a smile. It's just like Elena to find a way to explain Dean that he wasn't responsible for something their dad blamed him for while also neatly avoiding directly criticizing their dad for his actions and thus causing Dean to defend their father blindly instead of listening to her.
Sam clears his voice, Dean still looking shell-shocked by Elena's sound logic.
"But using Michael – I don't know, guys," he says, reminding them of his doubts. "I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait," he offers instead.
Dean, shakes his head, both shaking off his shock and disagreeing with Sam.
"No, it won't work," he says confidently. "It's gotta get close enough to feed – it'll see us." He looks grim. "Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid."
Michael holds the office phone like it's a weapon. "You're crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops."
Needless to say, he isn't taking their revelation about the shtrigu very well.
Dean shakes his head, leaning down to the kid's level. "Hang on a second. Just listen to me," he implores. "You have to believe me, okay? This thing came through the window, and it attacked your brother. I've seen it. I know what it looks like. 'Cause it attacked my brother once too."
Michael slowly puts down the phone. "This thing…is it…like…it has this long…black robe?" he asks, his question drawn out like it pains him to admit it – like it scares him too.
"You saw it last night, didn't you?" Dean guesses grimly.
Michael still looks doubtful. "I thought I was having a nightmare."
Dean looks pained. "I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real."
"So, why are you telling me?" Michael asks.
"Because we need your help," he tells him solemnly.
"My help?" He looks confused.
"We can kill it," Dean tells him. He gestures between himself, Elena, and Sam. "The three of us, that's what we do."
"She's a receptionist," Michael says, pointing at Elena, incredulously.
She shrugs lightly, smiling. "Only while Doris is visiting her mother."
"Michael, we can't do it without you," Dean cuts back in
"What?" Michael looks at them like they're crazy again. "No!"
"Michael, listen to me," Dean says urgently. "This thing hurt Asher. And it's gonna keep hurting kids unless we stop it, you understand me?"
Michael looks between the three of them, bewildered, a child learning that monsters are real, and sometimes adults cannot do everything on their own.
Dean says, "Well, that went shitty." They're back in the room, it's nearly dark now. "Now what?"
"What did you expect?" Sam asks in return. "You can't ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid."
Suddenly there is a knock at the door.
Dean opens it to reveal Michael, looking unsure but desperate.
"If you kill it, will Asher get better?" he blurts out.
"Honestly?" Dean shakes his head. "We don't know."
"You said you were a big brother," Michael says.
Dean nods. "Yeah."
"You'd take care of your little brother? You'd do anything for him?" Michael asks.
Dean, puzzled by the inquisition, is none the less, sure of his answer. "Yeah, I would."
"Me too," Michael says. "I'll help."
"This camera has night vision on it, so we'll be able to see clear as day," Dean explains to Michael. "Are we good?" he calls to Sam in the next room.
Sam, watching the camera feed on his laptop, calls back, "A hair to the right."
Dean obliges.
"There, there," Sam says, calling for him to stop.
Michael is tucked in bed, Elena sitting at the end of it, Dean turns to face them.
"Now, Elena's gonna be in your closet. If you have start freaking out, just remember she's in here with you," Dean says, joining Elena at the end of the bed.
"You can always get up and get something from the closet if being able to see someone will make you feel better," Elena adds.
Michael nods. "What do I do?" he asks.
"Just stay under the covers," Dean answers.
"And if it shows up?" Michael asks, nervous.
"Sam and I will be right in the next room," Dean says. "We're gonna come in with guns. So, as soon as we do you roll off this bed and you crawl under it."
"What if you shoot me?" Michael asks.
"We won't shoot you," Dean says assuredly. "We're good shots," he adds. "We're not going to fire until you're clear, okay? Have you heard a gunshot before?" he asks seriously.
"Like in the movies?" Michael says.
Dean shakes his head. "It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies," he tells him. "So, I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears,do notcome out until we say so," Dean instructs. "You understand?"
Michael nods, looking scared.
"Michael, you sure you wanna do this?" Dean asks. "You don't have to, it's okay, I won't be mad."
Michael nods insistently. "No, I'm okay," he says stubbornly. "Just don't shoot me," he adds cheekily, showing some of his normal spirit.
Dean is serious. "We're not going to let anything happen to you. I promise."
Michael settles down into bed, Elena pulls up the covers, tucking it expertly. He gives her a surprised look.
"I've got a little brother, too," she says with a wink.
"C'mon Elena," Dean says, leading her to the closet.
She settles on the floor, a pillow from Asher's bed already set out for her to sit on.
"You good?" Dean asks.
Elena checks her gun, nods. She smiles at him.
"What?" he asks.
"I'll tell you later," she replies. Telling him now that she thinks he'd make a great dad would probably just get in his head.
He nods. "Okay." He considers her.
She has her knees drawn to her chest; legs bare in the balmy summer night. As cute as she looks in her pencil skirt, he's always liked her best like this, favorite shorts, favorite boots, one of his shirts, and a high ponytail.
A glance back shows that Michael isn't paying attention to them, staring at the ceiling in anticipation instead.
Dean darts forward, pressing a kiss to Elena's left knee. She looks startled and flushed. He gives her a wicked grin, closing the closet door. Elena is barely visible through the slanted wood.
"Mother-" she starts.
"Language, Elena," Dean replies laughingly.
It's about time he gets a win, after all. Especially after Mexico.
Dean sobers as he shares one last reassuring glance with Michael as he leaves the room.
"What time is it?" Dean asks.
He and Sam are sitting in front of the laptop, gaze fixed on Michael's sleeping figure.
Sam checks. "Three," he answers.
"Poor Elena," Dean replies, thinking of how long she's been sitting in that cramped closet.
Sam nods in agreement. "You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?" he asks, full of nervous energy.
"Consecrated iron rounds," Dean corrects him. "And yeah, it's what Dad used last time."
Sam, now reminded Dean's story about what happened last time they faced this shtrigu as a family, says, "Hey, Dean, I'm sorry."
Dean glances at him, confused. "For what?"
Sam shrugs, "You know, I've really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad's orders," he says. "But I know why you do it."
Dean rolls his eyes, "Oh, god, kill me now," he says dramatically.
Sam chuckles.
Dean, noticing something on the monitor, sits up. "Wait." He points. "Look."
One of the branches outside the window moves in a way that is distinctly un-branch-like, revealing itself to be a hand, not a branch. The shtrigu's hand opens the window, entering the room in one fluid, silent movement.
Both brothers reach for their guns.
"Now?" Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head. "Not yet."
The shtrigu advances towards Michael. Both brothers abandon the laptop, positioning themselves outside Michael's door. This is why they don't see what happens next, but Michael does.
The shtrigu stops its advance in the middle of the room, turning its head toward the closet.
"Elena," Michael whispers, terrified.
In a trance-like state, the shtrigu advances on the closet.
"Elena," Michael says again, louder this time.
The shtrigu opens the closet. Elena has her gun trained on it but, frozen in shock, does not pull the trigger. It kneels, moving closer to her, like a moth to a flame.
"You radiate light," the shtrigu murmurs, enchanted. "Even in the day, under all those fluorescent lights, you are the most radiant being I've ever encountered."
Michael, terrified, manages to slip out of bed to the door.
Elena, unable to move and staring wide-eyed at the shtrigu, can only wait to hear what it says next.
"You are like a beacon in the darkness," the shtrigu whispers. "Like a torch, beckoning. Your vitality is like nothing I've ever seen before."
The shtrigu leans in, close enough to share her breath now, opening its mouth, a look of ecstasy on its withered face. There is a light, shining at the back of its throat. Elena, unwillingly, finds her mouth opening, a mist-like light emitting from her mouth.
While the shtrigu's light is pure white, Elena's is dazzling gold, and it lights the room as bright as the mid-day sun. The light seems to pour endlessly from her, like a never-ending source of illumination.
Michael throws open the door, revealing the strange scene to Sam and Dean.
For a moment, Dean and Sam are frozen, just as shocked by the shtrigu kneeling in front of Elena as they are by the golden light spilling from her mouth and the way it turns the room into a sun-drenched place, no longer a dark place full of nighttime shadows, daylight has come to this room, and it is emanating from Elena Gilbert's soul.
Then, the shtrigu's pallid skin begins to glow too, brighter and brighter, it glows the same gold as Elena's spiritus vita. Before long, cracks appear in its skin, light bursting from it, this dark vessel unable to contain it. The shtrigu makes a high, strangled noise of pain and shock, then bursts into dust.
When it is gone, the light fades from the room, leaving them blinking into the darkness.
For a stunned moment, they all stare blindly as the spot where the shtrigu exploded gets clearer as their eyes adjust to the darkness.
"Michael, you all right?" Sam asks breathlessly.
"Yeah," Michael says, standing in the doorway now.
Dean sprints across the room to drag Elena up out of the closet and into his arms.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks, feeling Elena's heart thudding through him.
"It's like Michael wasn't even there," Elena says, barely hearing him. "He just went straight for me."
Dean and Sam exchanged a confused look.
"It said she was like a light," Michael pipes up. "It didn't even notice I was here, it only wanted her."
"Is that- uh, do you know why?" Dean asks, unsure how to ask Elena if doppelgangers attract monsters. Unsure how to ask if this is the second supernatural being she's unwittingly killed.
"I don't know," she answers honestly.
Dean holds her tighter.
Sam wonders how to explain this for his journal.
"It's like your life force was too much for it," Sam says, realization dawning.
In the early hours of the next morning, Dean waits for Elena outside the motel room. The sun isn't even up when she returns, the day still gray around them.
"Good run?" he asks, taking in the way her skin glistens.
She nods, sitting down on the bench beside him. She looks at him expectantly.
"So, the shapeshifter died when it tried to change into you because you're a doppelganger and it didn't realize that it was trying to be more than one person at once," he says. "Did I get that right?"
She nods, surprisingly not thrown by him going so far back in their case catalogue. "It can't hold all of us – we have our own memories, our own lives. Our bodies are identical, but I have scars the others will never have, just like some of them have…" she looks for a way to phrase it. "Abilities," she finally settles on. "That I don't." Then she adds hastily, "And most of the other girls are dead, so it's like it was trying to be alive and dead at the same time."
"Okay." He sighs heavily, trying desperately to absorb it all. "And the girl you were pretending to be in Chicago isn't human at all, which is why she wouldn't get along with hunters, so not only was it trying to be dead and alive, it was trying to be human and not-human."
The expression on her face tells him everything. He reaches for her hand. "Elena, I know you're human."
She has to look away, overcome with relief.
He forges onto the next one mercilessly. "And Joe Whitetree, the other one did something to him and that's why he recognized you."
She shrugs, still not looking at him. "That must be it, I haven't asked her."
"So, the reaper," he says this time. "Doppelgangers are harbingers of death and misfortune, so maybe that's why it seemed like he recognized you."
She shrugs again. "I guess." Her voice is high, sounding lost and terrified.
He pulls her into his side, continues. "And now the shtrigu, he's attracted to you because you're a doppelganger?"
"I guess," she repeats, tired of this game.
Dean continues, trying to ignore the guilt her obvious discomfort stirs in him. "He tried to consume your life force, but it was too much for him, and he died."
"I didn't know any of this, Dean," Elena responds. "It's not like there's a handbook."
He nods reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess not."
They sit in silence for a moment. Seeing that she isn't going to look at him, he carefully catches her cheek in his hand, turning her face to look at him. He looks at her intently, "I am so glad that whatever you are is so fucking intense that it turned that sonofabitch to dust," he says seriously.
She looks back at him, searching his face for any uncertainty or lack of acceptance.
"You don't ever worry that you might just like me because I'm a doppelganger?" she asks him.
It's both the question itself and the fact that she blatantly called herself a doppelganger that shocks him.
"No," he replies, unhesitant, despite his shock. "It's never crossed my mind."
She looks doubtful. "You've seen what I can do to people, you don't ever worry that I'm doing it to you?"
"Well, I sincerely doubt you're trying to charm the pants off me when any broaching of the subject on my part leads to a resounding 'we can't' from you," he says lightly. "And I know you," he adds. He smooths his palm down her face. "You'd never want to be with someone who only wanted you because of that."
"But how do you know?" she asks, imploringly. "Because I don't. Half the time I don't even know when I'm doing it. I mean, I've gotten better but…"
Dean shakes his head. "Well, I know when you're doing it, and trust me, that's only about half of why people like you."
She looks doubtful despite his certainty. "How do you know that?" she asks again.
"A few reasons. First of all, I liked you about as much as anyone else when we first met," he says. "You were just a kid – I mean, I don't think anyone can ignore that you're beautiful, but more than anything I felt bad for you. And I guess I understood what you were going through in my own way, but I didn't want to be your friend until I really got to know you," he tells her sincerely.
"And it's the same with everyone else. Guys in bars just see a pretty girl and that's enough, maybe you're a little more likely to attract them than any other girl, but it's the same basic principle."
Dean continues, "When we're on a case, people open up to you because you care so damn much. They wanna tell you because what they have to say matters to you, not because you're beautiful or charming or whatever the hell you wanna call it. They know you're going to believe them, take them seriously, and trust me when I say that's all anyone really wants."
Elena smiles at him. "You do realize you're being very sweet, right now," she says.
"It's my prerogative as your boyfriend, Ms. Argos," he says cheekily.
She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Fiancé," she corrects him.
He knows what he said, but he doesn't bother correcting her. He's not sure she's quite ready for the truth yet anyway.
She finally relaxes against him, laying her head on his shoulder. He presses his cheek to her hair, smiling triumphantly at finally succeeding in getting her to relax.
"Another reason is that you said your pucker-up friend in Chicago doesn't like the other girl, so that must mean you can in fact out-bitch your charm," he adds as an afterthought.
Elena snorts. "I mean, I won't deny she's a bitch, but trust me when I say he's the bigger asshole in that fight."
"Yeah?" Dean asks curiously.
Elena is silent for a moment, then "Look, I won't deny that she's not exactly a good person, but…" she trails off.
She is quiet long enough that he assumes she won't answer.
"If she's a monster, it's his fault, and I don't think even he can dispute that," she finishes finally.
"Monster, huh?" he asks carefully.
"Yes," she says definitively. She sits up, looks him in the eye. "But she's my monster."
He can read the subtext in her determined face. It's not that the other girl is someone she is afraid of; it's that the other girl belongs to her as much as he does. He's not gonna pretend that doesn't scare the shit out of him, but it's there, clear as day in her face; her monstrous counterpart is in her, bone deep, and he knows he can't make an argument that'll change her mind.
"Okay," he responds, trying to make his tone as clear as possible to her.
She studies him. "So, what are you going to tell Sam?" she asks, surprising him.
He looks at her sharply, uneasily trying to decipher how much she knows about Sam's research into her. He thinks she's only guessing, but he also understands that he's treading on very dangerous ground. One wrong step, and he might cross an unforgivable line.
"Whatever you want me to tell him," he says honestly.
She relaxes a fraction, which he takes to mean that he answered correctly. "You can confirm what he already knows, but anything new is off the table," she says immediately, like she planned this conversation as much as he did.
He nods. "Okay," he says, face unreadable.
Hesitantly, he reaches out, touching the scar on her neck, feeling her tense-up at the gesture. Not since the first time he noticed it has he asked about it, and now twice in the last month.
"So, you don't have any effect on vampires," he says carefully. "Being a doppelganger can't kill every kind of monster that attacks you."
Her pulse thuds under his fingers. She nods, grabbing his hand, gently pulling it away from the scar. Their hands still intwined, she taps on her manticore scar. "Right." Reminding him that she would've died from the manticore's venom if it wasn't for his quick action.
She carefully tapped the end of her scar closest to her knee, both of too aware of the expanse of it – the difference between just above her knee and a mere inch from the juncture of her thigh, and so much sensitive skin in between. Even as careful as she is, he sees the goosebumps spread across her skin.
She releases his hand, clearing her throat to continue, so he pulls it back in his own lap, desperately trying to pay attention to what she's saying, ignoring the tingling in his fingers where they touched her bare skin.
"I think it's just when certain supernatural beings attempt to use their powers on us without realizing that something about us is past their limits," she says. Shaking her head, she adds, "I don't know how we surpass the shtrigu's ability to feed on a life force." She glances at him. "Not yet at least."
He nods. "So uh, are you gonna call my dad or do you want me to?" he asks, remembering that John had requested she call him if anything unusual happened.
"I should call," she says. "I don't think he'll answer, but I'll leave a message."
"Okay."
Elena moves to get up, but Dean stops her.
"Sun's coming up, sit with me for a minute, okay?" he asks.
So, she lets him pull her back into his side, tucking her under his arm, turning their eyes to the horizon.
Still half asleep, Sam checks his phone. He finds the email he's been waiting for all week, a confirmation that he's been accepted into the Guardian Archive's private chat room.
Impatiently he opens the chat room, intent on putting out feelers to see if anyone else can tell him anything else about the curse of the sun and the moon and doppelgangers.
A new message pops up from the moderator
Welcome
Thank you
Hesitating Sam types again.
I'm Sam
I'm hoping someone can give me more information on the curse of the sun and the moon
As an afterthought, he adds another request.
And doppelgangers
After a moment replies start to roll in
I'm Hunter
Taylor Swift is a doppelganger of a famous Satanist from the 80s
Sam rolls his eyes.
Don't be stupid, she's a clone!
I'm Judy btw
You're stupid!
Whatever sweaty
Guys ur gonna scare off the new guy!1!
I'm Bailey
Sam is about to log off when the moderator pops back up
We agreed no celebrity conspiracy theories, guys
Ignore them Sam
Doppelgangers are incredibly rare
Not a lot is known about them
But I'll tell you what I can
Relieved, Sam replies.
That would be great, thanks
What should I call you?
I'm Rick
Later, once the sun is up and Sam is fully awake, they're packing the car when Joanna returns from the hospital.
Dean spots her first. "Hey, Joanna," he says. "How's Asher doing?" he asks anxiously.
"Have you seen Michael?" she asks in turn.
"Mom!" Michael comes sprinting out of the office, barreling full speed at her. "Mom!"
Joanna catches him, hugging him to her chest. "Hey!"
"How's Ash?" he asks as they separate.
She smiles brilliantly, cupping his cheeks. "Got some good news," she says. "Your brother's gonna fine."
Michael's eyes light up. "Really?"
"Yeah." She nods. "Really," she says the word with such relief. "No one can explain it – it's a miracle," she continues. She turns to Dean and Sam here, "They're going to keep him in overnight for observation and then he's coming home."
"That's great," Dean says with significant relief.
"How are all the other kids doing?" Sam asks.
"Good. Real good," she answers with a smile. "A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town."
"Dr. Travis?" Sam asks. "What about Dr. Hydeker?"
She shrugs. "Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something."
"Yeah," Dean says, thinking about the pile of dust Sam had so efficiently vacuumed off her sons' bedroom floor. "Yeah, must have."
Joanna glances around. "Where's Helen? She wasn't at reception this morning?"
"She's in the room, making a few calls," Dean answers. "We've gotta get going, so I guess they'll be finding someone else to look over the desk until Doris gets back in a few days."
She nods. "Well, you make sure she says goodbye before you go, all right?"
Dean nods. "Will do."
Joanna returns her attention to her eldest son. "So, did anything happen while I was gone?"
Michael, almost glancing at the brothers, stops himself and shakes his head. "Nah, same old stuff."
"Okay," she smiles at him. "You can go see Ash."
"Now?" he asks eagerly.
"Only if you want to," she teases.
Michael runs to the car without another word, only briefly turning to nod at Dean before he goes.
Joanna chuckles. "I, uh, I'd better get going before he hotwires the car and drives himself."
Elena comes out then, right on time, and the two women hug. Joanna thanks her for her kindness at the hospital, Elena waving it aside easily.
Sam and Dean lean back and watch as the two women talk, Elena following Joanna to her car at her beckoning.
"It's too bad," Sam says.
"Oh, they'll be fine," Dean replies.
"That's not what I meant," Sam says, clarifying, "I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark – he'll never be the same, you know?" Sam stares at the boy sitting in the front seat of his mother's car. "Sometimes I wish that…" he trails off.
"What?" Dean asks, prompting him.
Sam shrugs, but answers truthfully. "I wish I could have that kinda innocence."
Dean claps him on the shoulder. "If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too."
They exchange a sad smile, watching Elena and Joanna hug again. Elena rounds her way to the other side to say goodbye to Michael. Michael leans up to whisper something into her ear. Elena, listening intently, smiles at him when he's done, squeezing his shoulder. Joanna, now in the driver's seat, backs out of the parking spot.
As they drive by, Michael and Joanna open their windows to yell, "Congratulations!" at Dean.
Dean looks at Elena, confused. "What was that about?" he asks, amused.
"I told her the same thing I told the hospital to explain why I'm leaving so suddenly," she answers.
"What's that?" Sam asks, curious as ever.
Elena's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Well, I didn't want them to think I was a complete flake, just taking off after a few days." She pauses for effect. "I realized there is one reason that most people will excuse a young, engaged girl's flakiness."
Sam and Dean aren't quite following, so she just tells them.
"I told them that we're eloping," she says to Dean.
He laughs, slightly startled. "That's a good one," he says.
Sam shakes his head, smiling.
They get in the car, ready to leave town.
"So did you call Dad too?" Dean asks.
"Yeah, he didn't answer just like I thought, so I left him a message," she says.
"You called the hospital, you called dad," Sam lists. "Sounds like all of the loose ends are tied up."
She nods, but Dean catches a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror, prompting a question from him. "You had to call someone else, too, didn't you?" he asks.
She nods again, looking slightly reluctant.
"Your friend still giving you trouble about when you'll visit?" He tries to sound calm.
She shakes her head this time. "Oh, no, I just realized…" trailing off, she considers how to say this. "With all of the kid talk, I wanted to check up on someone," she finally says.
"The little girl you baby-sat in New Orleans?" Sam asks tentatively.
"Sort of," she answers, ending the conversation.
"Hey, what did Michael say to you at the end?" Dean asks, finally remembering now that the puzzle of their congratulations had been solved.
Elena smiles. "He said that it was okay that he knows about the monsters now, because he also knows that there are people out there like us," she answers. Then adds with fond mischief, "But I wasn't supposed to tell you guys that."
The boys laugh appreciatively. Dean can see that Michael's words have eased some of Sam's concern over what he now knows.
"So where to next?" Sam asks.
"Charleston," Dean answers right away.
"What's in Charleston?"
Sam is confused, but Dean just exchanges a private smile with Elena.
"I thought Elena and I were supposed to be eloping," Dean answers.
Sam's confusion clears, and he snorts, shaking his head, unaware of what exactly Charleston means to the two of them.
"You guys do realize your jokes are getting dangerously close to not being funny, right?" Sam says in return, both his amusement and frustration evident.
"I dunno, I still think they're funny," Elena answers honestly.
Dean smiles at her in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, and I kinda realized something recently," he says.
"What?" Elena asks.
Dean glances over at Sam, who is listening intently.
"Tell you some other time," he answers.
"Promise?" she says playfully.
He nods, smiling but serious. "Promise."
She leans back in her seat, satisfied. She's wearing Dean's flannel again, her favorite that Katherine so thoughtfully returned to her. If Elena had a close girlfriend still, like Bonnie or Caroline, there would be someone who knows that it's her favorite shirt of Dean's because of the perfect emerald shade of green that his eyes turn when he wears it. But Elena doesn't have a girlfriend to share the more nauseatingly sweet parts of romance with. She has Sam to run long miles and swap novels with, and she has Dean himself. Dean, who holds her through her nightmares and thinks her strange, dark jokes are hilarious and never minds that she can drink him under the table through some strange glitch in her bloodline.
In a way, they are enough. Sam understands the need to run until her legs give out and her mind goes numb, and Dean understands the thrill of the con, how a well-timed witticism and a coy tilt of her head can change the course of an evening from a mellow night out at the bar to the performance of a lifetime. She loves them both for what they are, but sometimes she just misses picking out the perfect nail polish for a first date or speaking ad nauseum about the breathtaking little details of Dean that make her heart pound. Like the perfect dimple of Dean's lower lip that she spends more time thinking about and how it might feel beneath her thumb, against her own lips, than she'd ever admit to anyone other than Bonnie or Caroline.
But for better or for worse, Bonnie and Caroline are in her past, and Dean and Sam are the present. They're good enough company, and she wouldn't trade them for anything.
AN: Chapter title from Enter Sandman by Metallica. A little ode to Dean's taste in music but also the lyrics work freakishly well for this episode!
Chapter Notes/References:
Soooo who do you think brought Elena's clothes back?
Hmm, interesting website you found there, Sam!
When Elena says that not all supernatural beings have done things that make them targets to hunters, she's referring to Caroline and Tyler, since they've only ever killed a human by accident (or, in Tyler's case, Sara was compelled by Katherine to force him to kill her). Obviously, we know that Stefan and Damon (and Klaus and his siblings) have done things that make them worthy of being hunted but a) Elena has made it clear to John that hunting her friends is not gonna happen and b) Originals are not ones to fuck with, and John Winchester ain't no fool.
John Hathorne was the only judge from the Salem Witch Trials who never repented for sentencing all of those innocent people to death. He is the ancestor of Nathaniel Hawthorne, author of The Scarlet Letter, who purportedly changed the spelling of his name out of shame for his ancestor's actions.
I usually google the towns they're in to double-check the spelling so imagine my surprise when I discovered that the towns Sam lists when he's talking about the shtrigu's history are all FAKE AND FROM THE FUCKING SIMPSONS fucking trolled by the spn writers (what else is new?).
A lot of what John did to his kids drives me crazy (and I am well-aware that I am not alone in this) but especially blaming literal child Dean for the shtrigu going after Sam when all of the evidence in the episode suggests it would've happened anyway because of what happened when it came for Asher and Michael. (Also kinda made me want to write a story about a teenage girl hunter who only babysits other hunters' kids and her adventures fighting monsters after the kids go to sleep - but I digress). So I decided to have Elena use logical fallacies to explain why John's thinking was wrong - mostly because Dean tends to get defensive when John's parenting is critiqued. This way she's just proving with evidence that John was wrong so Dean's need to defend his dad doesn't blind him to the reality of the fact that he has nothing to feel guilty for. If anyone feels like reading up on logical fallacies, Bruno Pešec has a wonderful overview of them on his website that is a relatively quick read and pretty easy to understand.
So, stay with me here, Elena's life force is connected to the life force of every other Petrova doppelganger, their lives - and deaths - inform hers, they're directly linked like a chain. So it's like a never-ending stream of life force going back and forth through time nearly endlessly. That would be very attractive to something that feeds off of life forces, and also very destructive, since it's undiluted and endless, unlike your average human's. Or at least, that's what I came up with to explain why it went down like that.
Elena and Dean finally talk about things! Elena proving that she is not at all oblivious to the fact that Dean and Sam are building theories about her! And then she basically does nothing about it, because once again, Elena is not the one who wants to keep them in the dark, John Winchester is, so, she's only asking Dean not to break her confidence. Which he kind of did already...whoops.
Also this is literally the chapter that I, the writer, realized that Dean would realize he basically is Elena's boyfriend already, just without the sexual physical intimacy - they spend most of this story literally all over each other, so saying they're not physically intimate doesn't sound exactly right - Elena, naturally, is slightly oblivious that she's had a boyfriend for a while now. Don't worry, she'll get there, lmao.
See you next week (if I can make it through Chapter 21, it is dense!) Also everyone say Happy Birthday to Maddie!
Thoughts? Question? Please leave a review!
xoxo
-Pixie