❛ ━━━━━━･ ❪ ☆ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

       THE CAR RIDE from the warehouse to the motel was the longest of Eleanor's life. ( and she had driven sixteen hours from New York to Indiana. ) Dean's silence was deafening. She could hear all the things he wanted to say. Things like this is why I didn't want you to go and I told you to stay outside and you could have died!

       Part of her just wished he would yell at her, at least then she could argue back. Instead, the car was simply filled with tense silence.

Of course, all hell broke loose when they returned to the motel room. Sam was back, sitting on one of the beds and typing away on his laptop.

"What the hell were you thinking, Eleanor?" Dean accuses, closing the door behind them. Sam looks up at them, suddenly uninterested in his research.

"I told you to stay outside! You could have gotten hurt," Dean continues. "This is why you shouldn't be hunting in the first place. You're just a kid, you should have a normal life!" Eleanor goes to interrupt him but he continues to lecture her. "You need to go back to NYU. You have a good life going, don't screw it up with all this monster bullshit. You shouldn't be -"

      Anger bubbled in Eleanor's blood as Dean continued to lecture her. Eventually, she snapped. "Enough! Okay? You didn't want me in this life but guess what, I'm already in it. You can't make decisions for me like you do for Sam. You barely even know me." Dean begins to protest but Eleanor holds up a hand to stop him.

       "I've been fine for nineteen years. I've felt like my life was meaningless but saving people and hunting monsters? I feel like I've finally figured out what I was meant to do. I wanted to become a doctor to save people, but I can do so much more as a hunter. You can't stop me, if you don't want me with you, fine. I'll go on my own or find someone else to hunt with. I know the risks, I've made my choice."

Dean could have sworn he saw her eyes take on a purple hue, but the glow was gone in an instant, so he chalked it up to a trick of the light.

     "Eleanor, you can't just throw your life away!" Dean argues.

      "It's mine to throw away!" Her voice was high and filled with anger. She lets out a humorless laugh. "And that's funny coming from you, sacrificing yourself and making a demon deal that sent you to hell for four months and leaving everyone to pick up the pieces! Leaving me to pick up the pieces," her voice breaks.

      "Ellie . . ." Ever the mediator, Sam tries to calm his siblings.

       "Don't call me that, it makes me sound like a middle schooler. Just forget it, okay?" She grabs her jacket. Her nerves were on fire, screaming at her to argue, do something, anything to scratch the itch. The door slams behind her as she pulls on her jacket, walking into the night. Her blood felt electric, buzzing with something dark and violent.

She makes her way down the street, stopping when she feels like she's a safe enough distance away from the motel. She sits on the curbs and buries her face in her hands. She really needed a cigarette. The cold air stung her skin but it felt good. It made her feel more stable.

She pulls her lighter and the half crushed pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket. A small frown makes it way onto her face as she sees the lighter, the one Dean gave her. Anger sparks in her again. It wasn't fair that Dean expected her to be the "good little sister" and go to college while he and Sam risked their lives every day to save the world. He wasn't part of her life for seventeen years and suddenly he thinks he could tell her what to do? Eleanor wasn't having it. And Dean died. He had no right to tell her what to do, especially when he left her, left Sam.

      She tried to ignite the lighter but after a few clicks nothing happened. "What the hell?" That angry, violent spark returned. With one final, hard strike of the wheel, a small flame caught. She exhaled a sigh of relief and lit the cigarette. Her eyes close as she inhales feeling slightly calmer than before.

She didn't know how much time had passed before someone walked over, their shadow looming over her. "I'm done arguing." She didn't bother looking at who it was, she had a feeling she already knew.

       "I'm not here to argue." It was Dean. He takes a seat next to her and sighs. Placing a half empty beer bottle beside him, he goes to speak but Eleanor cuts him off before he can.

       "If you're going to tell me to return to my normal life after learning that all of this is out there and expect me not to help, don't bother. I just . . ." She can't quite form the words she wanted to say, so she places the still lit cigarette between her lips and inhales, buying herself some time.

       "I know you're trying to make up for lost time," she says, exhaling a thin stream of smoke, "but you can't treat me like a kid, Dean. Sam told me how you practically raised him, so I'm . . ." She lets out a frustrated sigh, still unable to process the words she wanted to say.

      "I'm trying to get where you're coming from. The thing is, you don't have to raise me. You aren't responsible for me. If something happens to me, it's on me. Not you."

Dean doesn't look at her, instead choosing to look at the dots of stars in the sky above their heads. "Growing up, I was responsible for Sam. Dad put that on me. If Sam even so much as scraped a knee . . ." he trails off and Eleanor finds herself looking over at him. "I guess old habits die hard. This life, there's no happy ending for us. Once you're in it, you can't get out and I wanted at least one Winchester to be out and have an apple pie life." He finally turns to look at her.

She offers him a small smile. "Dean, I got into this life when your dad," she falters, "our dad, I guess, showed up on my doorstep two years ago. Like you said, once you're in it, you don't get out."

       He knew she wouldn't change her mind, so he went with the next best thing. "Stick around then?" Maybe he'd be able to convince her to go back to college and stop hunting along the way.

Her eyebrows furrowed, shocked he changed his mind. "Really?"

"Saving people, hunting things, it's the family business. You're family. And this way I can keep an eye on you. You know, make sure you stay out of trouble and all that. Plus, I'm a way better teacher than Sam. I'll help train you."

       Eleanor rolls her eyes but smiles. "Yeah, alright." She takes another drag from her cigarette.

      "Those things will kill you, you know," Dean tells her. He downs the rest of his beer, causing Eleanor to scoff and shoot him a look.

       "So will drinking your problems away but you don't see me making comments on your lifestyle," she fires back, taking a draw and exhaling the smoke almost pointedly. He raises his hand in mock surrender.

       They sit in silence for a few moments before Eleanor speaks up again. "So. . .You have you're very own 'The Escort' now? An angel on your shoulder or something?" She asks, trying to change the subject.

       "Apparently. I don't know what he wants with me. He said I have work to do, whatever the hell that means. I'm glad he brought me back and all but," he shrugs.

      "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition," she mocks, making her voice deep and gravelly. "That's such a weird thing to say."

Dean lets out a laugh. "This whole thing is weird. I mean, angels? Demons are one thing but, God, heaven, angels? I don't know." He shakes his head. "I don't buy it." Eleanor raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on. "I mean, after everything, why now? Why doesn't God ever step in and help?"

Eleanor was quiet, trying to think. When she finally responds, her voice is low and quiet. "I used to pray that I would understand. Why my dad wasn't around, why my mom was so worried all the time, why I felt like I wasn't normal." She doesn't look at him, choosing to look at her hands instead.

       "I never got an answer. I used to beg him to make me -" she cuts herself off and shakes her head. Dean doesn't push her, he knows what it's like to want to keep those feelings hidden, the ones you pray away, too scared to think of how others will react. He still does. "He never answered. I stopped trying," she finishes simply.

       "Well screw him then. Screw him and all his angels."

       Eleanor smiles. "Yeah, screw him." She leans over and rests her head on his shoulder. He tenses at the contact before relaxing. "I'm glad we aren't fighting anymore. I missed you, a lot. And I'm glad you're not dead. One of my biggest regrets was that I barely knew you," she admits.

      The darkness hid Dean's smile. "Yeah, well, you're stuck with me, Doc." He tries to deflect the emotional moment. "But like I say to Sammy, no chick flick moments."

      Eleanor lifts her head to give him a look. "What's wrong with chick flicks?"

❛ ━━━━━━･ ❪ ☆ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

AUTHOR'S NOTE: a bit of a short chapter. eleanor and dean are really bad at feelings, must be a family thing.
also i've noticed some confusion so to clear it up: eleanor doesn't have a love interest, she's being written as aroace. she just doesn't know it yet. a lot of her experience with her sexual and romantic orientations are based off of my own experience ( because what is making ocs if you don't project onto them? ), so please keep in mind that every experience is different and eleanor's isn't necessarily "wrong" if it doesn't align with you / someone you know who's aroace.
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