I'm Not Strong Enough to Stay Away

The whole Apocalypse thing was really bringing everyone down. Even on other hunts, Ella and I would always catch Sam and Dean talking about the Lucifer problem. I couldn’t stand how constantly on edge they were, and I just wanted the tension to disappear, or at least lighten up a bit.

“You know what I want more than anything?” I asked no one in particular, laying upside down on my bed and hanging my head off the end.

“My brother’s innocence?” Dean suggested slyly, smirking, and Sam and I both blushed.

I laughed a little to cover my embarrassment. “I mean besides that,” I said wryly, grinning as Sam blushed even deeper.

“What?” he prompted, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“To forget about all of this Apocalypse shit for a few days and do a job that’s actually gonna occupy us,” I said, flipping over onto my stomach and propping myself up on one of my elbows. “I’m tired of the paranoia and tension. Can we just pretend to be normal hunters for a while?”

Sam and Dean shared one of their telepathic looks, then turned to look at me. “We better start looking for a case, then,” Dean said finally.

“Already found one!” Ella squealed gleefully, jumping up from her bed and waving a newspaper in front of Dean’s face.

“Where is it?” Sam asked, only the slightest trace of interest in his voice.

“Some Podunk town called Abbeville,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, “South Carolina.”

“That’s like a two day drive,” Sam sighed.

“Then we better get going,” I said happily, sliding off of my bed.

Ella and I had been planning this for a while, ever since the day after the failed rescue mission. We’d figured a break would be nice.

Five minutes later, we were getting into our Impalas. “I’ll lead, ya follow,” Ella told Dean. “I’ve been there before.” Dean nodded once and got in his car. Ella got in our car and we pulled out of the motel parking lot, the boys following right behind us. “I can’t believe it worked!” she exclaimed, momentarily removing her hands from the steering wheel to clap triumphantly.

“I know,” I agreed. “I never thought they’d go for it, not in a million years.”

“I think it’ll be good for them, though,” Ella said. “For all of us, but mainly them. They need some time off, needa take a break from worryin’ about Adam.”

“I really hope he’s okay, though,” I said quietly. “I mean, he kinda came off as a douchebag, but he’s their brother.”

“Yeah…”

“Hey,” I said suddenly, a small smile spreading across my face, “time to bring out Damien?”

“Oh, yes!” Ella exclaimed, clapping again.

I pulled out my iPod and plugged it in. “So, what d’you wanna listen to?”

“Hmmm… Marilyn Manson?” she suggested, and I grinned.

“’Beautiful People’ or ‘Sweet Dreams’ first?”

“’Beautiful People,’ then ‘Sweet Dreams,’ then the rest.”

I pressed PLAY, then leaned back in my seat and tapped my foot on the dash in time to the music. 'Man, I really hope our plan works.'

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

I nudged Ella awake as we pulled into the small town. “We’re here,” I announced as she sat up slowly and stretched exaggeratedly.

“Home, sweet home,” she murmured groggily, her small hands rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I haven’t been back here in twelve years. It’s different.” Her voice had a bittersweet tone, like she was reliving her old memories. “Pull in there,” she told me, pointing to a small building with a sign that labeled it “The Westbrook Motel.”

I did as she said, muttering, “This is a motel? I’ve seen houses bigger than this.”

“Hey, it’s either this or a bed and breakfast, and I don’t really wanna get poisoned again.” I shrugged indifferently and got out of the car.

“Boy, Ella, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” Dean said as he walked over to us. “I’d rather sleep in my car.”

“Be my guest,” she said with a slight trace of bitterness, turning on her heel and marching toward the motel.

“What’s with her?” Dean asked confusedly.

“It’s her hometown,” I explained. “She may have hated it, but she doesn’t like other people to trash it. Besides, her mom’s buried here, and her sister is, too. Well, kinda.”

The brothers shared curious looks, then Sam asked, “What d’you mean, ‘kinda?’”

“It’s not my story to tell,” I said, walking backward toward the motel. “You’ll have to ask Ella about it.” I turned and jogged to the motel, stopping abruptly when Ella came out and jangled a room key in front of my face.

“Only one room!” she said happily, a bright smile stretched across her face, completely back to her old self. “Looks like we’re sharin'!”

I glanced at Sam and winked, grinning mischievously. He blushed and shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his shaggy hair fall and hide his red cheeks.

“C’mon,” I said, snatching the key from Ella’s hand and slinging my bag over my shoulder. The others followed me to the room, Ella humming “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” quietly. I put the key in the lock and opened the door with my eyes closed. “How bad is it?” I asked warily.

“It’s actually not that bad,” Sam said, sounding surprised.

“Eh, we’ve seen worse,” Dean agreed.

When I opened my eyes, I found that they were right. The room was very plain—but surprisingly clean—with plain white sheets and slightly ratty beige bedspreads. “Someone check the bathroom,” I said. “That’s always the worst.”

“I’ve stayed here before!” Ella said exasperatedly. “It’s fine!”

Dean held his hands up in surrender and said, “Okay, okay, we believe you!” Ella glared at him for a minute, then nodded, apparently satisfied. “So what’s the case?”

“Nine people ‘committed suicide’”—she made little air quotes around the words—“by hangin’ themselves in a dressin’ room in the Opera House. Most recent was ‘bout four days ago.” Ella sat down on the edge of one of the beds, crossing one leg over the other.

“Any lore on the place?” Sam asked.

“Yep. ‘Sposed to be real haunted by a lotta ghosts, but there’s one story that’s the most common.” Ella paused for a minute, seemingly lost in thought, then continued with a nostalgic tone to her voice. “We used to stay there overnight on dares, before… before Camilla.”

Sam and Dean shared another curious look and both looked back at Ella. “Who’s--?” Dean started, but Sam shook his head fiercely.

“The lore? What’s the lore?” Sam prompted.

Ella swallowed nervously, glancing at Dean for a split second, then staring at her hands. “Um, it was somethin’ like this married white actress and this black man who was doin’ some construction on the theater had an affair. The woman’s husband found out and him and his friends hung the black guy. Later, they found out she hung herself, too—in her dressin’ room. But there’s never been any malevolent activity or anythin’ from either of the spirits, so I dunno what’s makin’ them act out now.”

“Okay, you’re filled in,” I said, tapping my foot impatiently. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, c’mon, y’all!” Ella said, jumping up and running out the door.

“She’s a really happy person, isn’t she?” Dean mused with something like affection in his voice, then he followed her out.

~Supernatural~Supernatural~Supernatural~

“What’s with all the police cars?” Ella asked curiously as we pulled into to the Town Square. "S'there another death?”

At her last question, two men came out of the Opera House, pushing a gurney. “I’d say that’s a yes,” I said darkly, getting out of the car.

We walked toward the old building, straightening our business clothes and preparing to pull out our fake badges.

“Hey! You!” one of the officers called. “Who’re you?” I could tell already that this Southern redneck
drawl was going to get annoying very quickly.

“Agent Jett,” I said smoothly, slipping my badge out of my pocket and flashing it briefly. “This is my partner, Agent Currie.” I gestured at Ella, and she, too, pulled out her badge.

“Why’s the FBI down here?” the man asked, and the way he pronounced his “I” grated on my nerves.

“Ya got nine people dead—now ten—that’ve been marked as ‘suicides,’” Ella said, and I tried not to laugh at her business voice. It was just too funny to hear her being serious. “Ya think that’s normal?”

The man looked at her and fidgeted a little. “Well, no, but—“

“Then I don’t see the point of your question,” I interrupted.

The officer fell into an uncomfortable silence for a minute, then said, “Can I help y’all in any way?”

“That’s more like it,” I said approvingly.

“Just tell us exactly what happened,” Ella said, softening her tone a little.

“Her boyfriend found her strung up in her dressin’ room after the matinee. Went up to bring her flowers,” the cop said. “Shame, too. She was only fifteen.”

“Where’s the boyfriend?” I asked, and the cop pointed to a couple sitting on a park bench. “Thanks,” I said, then Ella and I approached the kids.

“Yeah?” said the girl, glaring up at us defensively with strangely golden eyes. Her arm was supportively around the boy’s shoulder, and he was slightly leaning into her.

I introduced us, then addressed the boy. “Are you the boyfriend?”

The girl answered for him. “Leave him alone, why don’t ya?” she snapped. “His girlfriend just died!”

“Kaiti, it’s okay,” said the boy as he looked up at us. He was pretty nice-looking for a teenager, and I figured he’d be close to Winchester gorgeous when he got older. “Yeah, I found Maya,” he said quietly. “What about it?”

“What’s your name, honey?” Ella asked, kneeling down in front of him and giving him that wide-eyed, caring look of hers that made people instantly become attached and put their complete trust in her.

“David,” the boy said, drawn in by Ella’s kindness, as I knew he was going to be.

“David,” she said sweetly, earning a glare from Kaiti. “Could ya tell me how ya found her?”

Kaiti glanced at David as if wondering what he was going to say. “She was in the play,” he said. “I came to see it and brought her flowers. One of the other actors told me where her dressin’ room was, so I went up there to see her. When I got there she was… y’know.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about the dressing room?” I asked, keeping my voice perfectly neutral.

“You mean besides his girlfriend hanging from the ceiling?” Kaiti said harshly.

“You do realize that I’m a Federal Agent, correct?” I said threateningly, and she shrank back under my glare. I could tell she cared about David a lot, and that was why she was being such a bitch, but I wasn’t going to take that attitude from anyone, especially a teenager.

“Yeah, there was somethin’,” David said slowly. “On the mirror, in Maya’s red lipstick. It was a name or somethin’. ‘Obadiah Wilson.’ But why’d Maya write that? I’ve never heard the name before, and she just moved here last year, so she hardly knows anyone.”

“But she killed herself, so why does that matter?” Kaiti asked, somewhat rudely.

“Every detail matters,” Ella said calmly. “Thanks for your help, David,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder reassuringly and standing up. “You, too, Kaiti.”

“He’s a kid, ladies,” Dean said, sounding slightly annoyed as he came up behind us. “You’d be taking the term ‘cougar’ to the max.”

“Jealous, Deano?” I teased, and he scoffed.

“Give him a few years, then maybe—“ He stopped abruptly, then shook his head. “Nope, not even then.” Ella laughed and latched onto Dean’s arm and he grinned satisfactorily.

“Hey, who’s Obadiah Wilson?” Sam asked as he walked up to us.

“No idea,” Dean and I said simultaneously.

“He’s the black man from the ghost story,” Ella informed us. “So I was right; the spirits are turnin’ vengeful. I wonder why…”

“Ella!” a childish, Southern-coated voice called. “Hey, Ella!”

We turned to see two completely different-looking girls running toward us and waving enthusiastically.

One was tan with dyed black hair and wide eyes, and she was wearing camouflage flip-flops, cut off shorts, a Confederate flag shark-tooth necklace, and a pink shirt that said, “Dixie Girls.” The other was my color pale with bleached white hair and slightly narrower eyes. She was wearing colorful, beat-up Converses, worn-in jeans with gigantic holes, and a Five Finger Death Punch concert tee.

“It is you!” the tan one exclaimed. “What’re ya doin’ back here?” she asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“Um…” Ella said, staring at the girls with an absolutely blank expression.

“It’s Jess!” the tan one reminded helpfully. “And Devon!”

“Oh my God!” Ella gushed, throwing her arms around the girls’ waists, as they were each about my height. “Ya got so big! I didn’t even recognize ya! Dev, you were five last time I saw ya, and Jess, you were only three!”

“Now, I’m sixteen,” the pale one, Devon, said in a surprisingly quiet, deep voice that hardly had an accent at all. “And Jessa’s fourteen. So you’re like, what, twenty-four now?”

Ella nodded rapidly, grinning like crazy. “So you’re ‘bout to have a birthday, then?” she asked, and Devon nodded. “Lemme see… March first, right? Just a couple weeks!”

“Yep, I got a new car!” Devon said, starting to sound excited. “’67 Chevy Impala, black, four door, hard top! My parents went to New York to get it! We call her ‘The Metallicar!’”

Even without looking at Dean, I knew his jaw would be on the ground. “Stop drooling, you pedophile!” I hissed. “She’s not even seventeen!”

His mouth shut with an audible click and I gave a small grin, then fixed my attention back on Devon, who was now chattering animatedly with Ella. I wondered why she had seemed so shy before.

“You’re gonna make her ears explode!” Jess admonished her older sister with a loud laugh.

“Which concert is that from?” I asked Devon, and Jess sighed enviously for some reason.

“What, this?” Devon responded, tugging on the bottom of her t-shirt happily. “It’s from our local rock station’s Birthday Bash! They headlined, and All That Remains, Hatebreed, and some other band were there, too! One of my friends took me to it!”

“Was it amazing?” I asked excitedly. “How was Ivan?”

“Oh my Rowling, it was the best show EVER!” Devon exclaimed gleefully, and I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Ivan was just as amazing live; totally orgasmic!”

“Ah, I wish I could see him! He’s got the most magical voice in the universe!”

As I finished my sentence, I noticed that Sam and Dean were staring at me, expressions of amusement and surprise etched on their faces. I realized that they’d never seen me go all-out fan girl over anything before.

“You wanna see a picture of him?” Devon asked, pulling out her phone and recapturing my attention. She held it out to me and showed me the shot. “My friend and I were right up on the stage, so it’s a fucking epic shot!”

“Holy fuck, he’s beautiful,” I said reverently, staring at Devon’s phone. “You lucky bitch!”

I accidentally hit the left arrow key and found myself staring at a picture of an anti-possession tattoo. My stomach lurched. 'Does she know about the supernatural?' I wondered, feeling panicked. “What’s this?” I asked, trying to keep the suspicion from my voice.

“Oh, it’s the tattoo I’m getting my eighteenth birthday. It’s from my favorite book series, Supernatural.” Sam and Dean shared an exasperated and uncomfortable look, and Sam shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “It guards against demon possession,” Devon continued, oblivious to the brothers’ discomfort.

“So, why’re ya here?” Jess asked Ella curiously. “It can’t be just to visit; ya never visited before.”

“I’m investigating the deaths at the Opera House,” Ella said. “I’m with the FBI. So is Garideth, and so’re Sam and Dean.”

“Sam and Dean?” Devon gasped. “Those are the names of the brothers in Supernatural!”

Dean rolled his eyes, looking disgruntled, and Sam sighed in annoyance. “What’s up with you two?”
I asked.

Sam sighed and mouthed, “Tell you later.”

“Devon thinks it’s the ghosts of Obadiah and Emily,” Jess told Ella, having completely ignored her sister’s outburst. “I say she reads too much.”

“Ah, shut up!” Devon snapped at her little sister. “You’re just as obsessed as I am!”

“I’m just more selective about whom I show,” Jess said primly, and the girls busted out laughing.

“So, you don’t think it’s suicide, either?” Devon asked, and Ella shook her head.

“Nope. Ten suicides? That’s crazy,” Ella said. “We’re thinkin’ serial killer. He’s been hittin’ up small towns 'round the country. I want y'all to stay outta town for a few days, just until we get this wrapped up, ‘kay?”

The girls nodded solemnly, then Devon asked, “Did you find anything in the room?”

Ella looked to Sam, who shook his head. “Not really,” he told Devon, who stared at him in awe, eyes soaking in his appearance as if he were the Elixir of Life and she was Voldemort. 'She acts how I felt when I first saw him,' I thought amusedly. “We didn’t really get a chance to look at much with all the other cops there. They get in the way.”

“You could always check it out during the gala tonight,” the teen suggested, suddenly shy and quiet again, obviously overwhelmed by the fact that Sam had spoken to her. “It’s one of the biggest things to happen to A-town in years. It’s celebrating the Opera House and the town’s founding. It’s an uber fancy affair; black tie and everything. The cops won’t be paying any attention to who comes and goes. It’ll be easy.”

“You done this before or something?” Dean asked, sounding impressed.

“Sorta,” she said, blushing deeply and pushing her hair behind her ear nervously. “We always hang out on the third floor during Awards Ceremonies. No one even notices we’re gone.” Devon shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “It’s kinda pathetic how blind everyone is.”

“Thanks, girls,” Ella said, smiling warmly and hugging them again. “Remember what I said: stay home a few days. I still have your home phone; it hasn’t changed, has it?” The girls shook their heads and Ella continued. “Good. Promise I’ll call when we wrap this thing up. I missed y’all.”

“We missed you, too,” the sisters said together.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling at the girls.

“Ditto,” Devon replied with a grin, and Jess nodded. “Bye, guys!” They waved to the boys and started off, only to stop when Dean called Devon’s name. “Yeah?” she asked expectantly.

“Who’s your favorite?” he asked, and she stared at him, totally confused. “Me—uh, Dean or Sam?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” she replied, smiling, and Dean’s face lit up. “Sammy, of course. He’s brooding and sweet and sensitive, like a puppy, but totally badass, too. Like in 'Fresh Blood,' when he chopped off Gordon’s head with razor wire. Damn, that was sexy!” Dean’s face fell and he nodded firmly, while Sam looked extremely triumphant and seemed to be holding back laughter. “Jess likes Deano the best, though, don’t you, Jessa?”

Jess nodded enthusiastically and said, “Totally! He’s such an ass, like, at times it’s almost unbearable, but he’s just hiding an extremely vulnerable, tender heart from the world. He uses his toughness as a front. It’s…”

“Endearing?” Devon suggested, and Jess nodded.

Dean now looked a bit more pleased, but also very embarrassed and uncomfortable. This time Sam actually did laugh, and the girls shot him confused looks as they waved and walked away.

'Sam and Dean… there’s no way they have books written about them, is there?' I wondered bewilderedly. 'These boys just have way too many stories to tell.'