Chapter 10: Traveling Blues

November 16, 2005

Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Leave it to Dean to find a homestyle diner in the middle of the city.

There's an overbearing number of restaurants in Milwaukee, but Dean insists that they are on a tight budget. Ellie is fine with just a Happy Meal from McDonald's since John would often run his clanky and uncomfortably loud pick-up down the drive-thru line whenever they were in a money crunch. However, Dean says that they cannot go to any of the McDonald's that are positioned at practically every street corner because Sam would have an aneurysm. Ellie does not know what that means, but it sounds bad, or funny, or something. She just knows that she does not want Sam to experience it, which is how they find themselves in a diner that is a carbon copy of the last one with the same everything.

Like most places in a metropolis setting, this establishment is crowded. Ellie and her brothers are directed to sit at the counter to eat in a last-ditch effort by the hostess to conserve space. It's a far cry from unraveling in a booth and having space to fan out all their junk on the tabletop, but still do-able.

The typical ambience of a diner rolling through a business cycle is heightened due to the building being close to capacity. Bells shout and grills hiss and chatter back in the kitchen. Silverware squeaks and crumbles in the hands of customers who pour heat from their mouths as they talk, and laugh, and radiate being alive. Employees circulate the diner like hawks.

Sounds and smells pile up on one another to the point of canceling the whole equation out, but Ellie still can focus on what she wants. She orders her food without help reading from the menu. Dean smiles googly-eyed at the waitress because she is pretty and wearing shorts. Sam reprimands him for being gross when she walks away.

This environment is fine, of course, until Ellie is done with her meal and there is no end in sight. She might be ready to leave in order to fend off her easily acquired childish boredom, but Dean is still delicately picking apart newspapers, marking anything of relevance for a future case with a pen. They touched down in Milwaukee the evening prior and there has yet to be a disturbance of the supernatural variety. The Winchesters only came here because it was the closest city after aimlessly hurtling east across the country, tripping over dead ends and loose edges from the "big bad" Dad was so tied up with.

Without any word on Dad, they must pump the brakes and resort to casual salt-and-burn cases to fill the empty spaces in between everything. Dad's trail has not grown cold but is rather running in place for the time being. Ellie tries to keep looking for him in stranger's faces, old cars, ugly motel wallpaper, and radio static, but it is becoming difficult for her to do so. John Winchester's disappearance makes even less sense to the child than Sam's. The prolonged situation is turning over to frustration from worry, despite any minimal excuse Dean configures for their father. He has never gone off the grid like this before.

Regardless, it has been far too long of slouching over on hard stools in a stuffy atmosphere for the young girl. Ellie doesn't even sit back down after returning from the bathroom. She opts to instead rock from her heels to the tips of her toes, or sloppily spin around on the linoleum, hoping her zoned out brothers notice her antsy antics.

It isn't until the nine-year-old sighs loudly a few times and climbs up on the back bar of Sam's stool, utilizing his shoulders for balance, that she receives a desired reaction. Sam leads her to the glass front of the diner where there is less of a crowd, and more importantly, a gumball machine. He sifts through his jacket pockets and settles a few jittery quarters in Ellie's open palm. Sam instructs Ellie to return to where him and Dean are when she is done, and he will see about them heading out.

Ellie is delighted. She finally has something to do and it does not directly involve her brothers. It might not seem like much, but it gives her the same lurching, standing on tip-toes sensation she is welcomed with when she can play at the park, or pick something out at the store. This freeing feeling electrifies her and digs up the illusion that the girl could run for days without tire. Ellie loves Dean and Sam. In fact, she is unable to even entertain the thought of living in a world lacking them without getting queasy, but she also enjoys her independence. The concept is so withered with everything entangled and buried in the very bone marrow of the Winchester name that she is starved, ready to pounce on any opportunity of indulging in harmless individualistic activities that is normal for a child.

Ellie huddles around the gumball machine as if it might disappear if she doesn't hold on to it. Leaning in, Ellie smudges the surface of the machine encasing the gumballs with the pads of her fingers. Her breath crowds up against the glass. She inspects the gumball flavors and decides what one she wants as if it is not based on chance. The outside air, which is much colder than the bathwater air in the diner, squeezes past her spine to burst into the room. People are coming and going through the front door. Since Ellie is now at the front of the building without a buffer, she is the first to be confronted with the outside elements.

The gumball machine takes some muscle and coaxing words on Ellie's end to work properly; its joints are stiff from not being utilized much. In the end, Ellie has enough quarters to get four gumballs. She cradles and slightly rolls them around in her grasp while walking back to her family, oblivious to her surroundings as she tries to figure out which one she wants to chew first.

Their waitress is leaning on the counter when Ellie reaches her destination. The youngest Winchester realizes that she must be catching the tail end of a conversation because Sam sends the waitress off quickly with a: "Just the check, please,", in which she responds to with a kind acceptance and a smile before departing.

Dean, not seeming to fully register Ellie's presence yet, cranes his head back and holds his eyes closed. He sighs and deflates in disappointment, restraining from releasing the words tucked in the tension of his jaw. Ellie finds his behavior odd for a split second, brief and distant, but her newly acquired gumballs outweigh any focus on Dean. Besides, he snaps out of his funk, eyes holding onto light the moment Ellie climbs back into the vacant bar stool in between her brothers. "Ooh, what'd you get?" he asks excitedly, interested in his sister's newly acquired treats.

Ellie scooches around on the circular surface of the stool to face him. Her mouth hangs ajar with a smile locked within, legs now pooling over the side and intersecting with Dean's space. Dean commences a drumroll with his fingers on Ellie's kneecaps in anticipation. He rolls his tongue to add a dramatic sound effect and Ellie giggles. She throws open her palm for the gumball reveal.

Dean quiets and mulls over his possibilities for a second. "Can I have this one?" He punctuates the inquiry by hovering his finger over the pink gumball.

"Yeah." Ellie singsongs out. Dean softens in reaction, the edges of his mouth stretching upwards. Yet, she pulls back before her brother can reach out and take anything. "For a dollar," she tacks onto the end of her offer, trying not to laugh.

Ellie watches intently as Dean's eyes widen. He leans in more. "A dollar?" he repeats, fake-flabbergasted. He tssks through his teeth before reaching to dig his wallet out of the trenches of his jean pocket, huffing through the process to put on a show. "You're no cheap date, you know that?"

Once the transaction is complete and the nine-year-old is a dollar richer, she regards Sam.

"Do you want one? They're free now."

There is a sound of Dean whining in complaint from behind her, followed by a wet cough due to the gum in his mouth.

Sam seems to like that, but he is not interested.

He smiles polite and fondly, answering with: "No thanks, bug."

Ellie has no issue with this. More for her, then.

"You're the best, El." Dean speaks nosily through his gum. He points at Sam. "Don't let the king of killing fun over there tell you any different."

Sam pulls a face in clear annoyance before Dean decides to bare his teeth and show a pink glob plastered on the front of them. Ellie snorts, blinking and veering her gaze from the crime scene. Sam rolls up his nose, putting on his lecture tone of voice, "Dean – "

Any further family interaction screeches to a smoky halt at the reappearance of their waitress.

"Thanks for coming in tonight," she says. The lightweight door behind her is arched over the dips in her shoulders. It sweeps back and forth, shoving the smell of the kitchen into their air and adding dynamic action to her form. She places the check Sam requested down in front of them. It flutters against the wooden countertop, picking up on the energy of the room. Ellie notices that her name tag spells out Wendy. She also notices that Dean is fidgeting in his seat. He is hurriedly attempting to dislodge the gum caught in the gaps of his teeth with his fingernails.

Wendy is nice enough to not say anything about Dean's antics. Instead, she slides the check his way and holds steady eye contact. "Hopefully we'll be seeing you again soon?" Her words are smooth and elongated, like she is hiding a message between them, and then there is a weighted pause. Oh.

Wendy likes Dean. As in, like like. And Ellie thinks that Dean like likes Wendy back because he's staring and smiling even with pink particles between his teeth.

Things have not been great in that department since Cassie dumped Dean at the closure of last year. She was a college student in Ohio, and they started going out shortly following Ellie regaining her voice after Sam screwed off to California. Ellie liked Cassie quite a lot, and not just because she finally did not have to be the only girl. Cassie completed a link Ellie did not realize was missing in her life: a strong, caring female presence. The woman took to the child immediately. Ellie never felt like she had to conjure up stumbling explanations for her weird quirks, or why she was so involved in her brother's life. Dean and Cassie were mainly long distance due to circumstances, but evidently not long term, because they broke up right when Ellie thought they were heading towards a serious stage. Dean has yet to tell her why; he basically forbids any mention of Cassie's name. They haven't even crossed over Ohio state lines since.

Point being, it has been some time since Dean's last relationship, at least one Ellie knew about, and it is no secret that Ellie was not a fan of the latest one because it was a shaky Cassie rebound. He usually doesn't bring anyone around for her to meet unless he thinks it might go somewhere, and he pretty much avoids flirting in public when his little sister is around. But now Sam is here, and they are kind-of-sort-of a family again, so Dean is breaking that rule.

Ew. Gross.

Ellie wants to leave all over again.

"Nope." Sam swoops in to rescue himself and Ellie from secondhand embarrassment and cooties by answering Wendy's question that seemed like from forever ago. He shatters whatever was brewing and snatches up their bill, his eyes raking over the little numbers.

Wendy seems briefly taken aback as indicated by her eyes widening and eyebrows raising. She doesn't mention it, though.

Dean does his best to recapture her attention and fix the small amount of damage Sam did. "What my brother here means to say – "

"We're just passing through," butts in Sam again, acting like an absolute saint in Ellie's eyes. He presents Wendy with the money they owe. The change and bills tumble pitiful into her palm and look heavier than they're supposed to be once they settle there. "Have a nice night." Sam flashes a smile, adding, "Keep the change."

The woman idles there for a moment, a moment in which Ellie feels a pang of uneasiness tug at the bottom of her heart, but it is not because she is having to watch her brother come onto someone anymore. Wendy does seem nice, even if Ellie would not normally meet her this early, and Dean was happy, but it is not a good time for this. Sure – Ellie wanted the moment to pass and go away, but watching it is still sad, she guesses. And giving Wendy extra money sure does not fix it, either.

Dean stares at Sam in the aftermath when they're alone again, but for an entirely different reason compared to when he was looking at their waitress. He's mad. "Ellie, cover your ears."

That doesn't make any sense to Ellie. There is no monster. There is no Dad around to say something that could set someone back years in progress. "What? Why?" Her voice squeaks without intention.

"No, Dean, no." Sam stands, stomping out the fire he created. "We are not doing this now. We have a case, so let's go." He walks away, elbowing through the crowds and out the glass door; into the stale-cold concrete jungle Baby is parked in.

There is a case, which means Dean finally found something tangled up in all those newspapers. Ellie is glad for that, but Dean is still fizzling next to her. They sit quietly in the diner.

Further off, a bell dings. People in a booth are laughing. At a table, a mother is trying to place her toddler into a booster seat, but he is thrashing his legs and screaming.

She offers another gumball to Dean. "They're still free."

This helps diffuse and scatter the anger. It's a stupid thing to get so worked up about, but it is more about the way Sam did it, and less about a potential relationship. Dean accepts Ellie's gum in a breathy chuckle, popping a white gumball into his mouth to mix with the pink. Ellie starts chewing on the last two gumballs.

Dean pieces together all of their belongings since Sam failed to grab anything before he stormed out. His movement is methodical as he moves through a routine, and Ellie knows to just wait for him to finish. He is ready to go after at least triple checking that they have everything.

"Where are we going?" Ellie asks, her gum producing a cracking sound, when Dean takes her hand to navigate through a more congested part of the restaurant.

Her older brother responds at the pane in the entrance/exit door of the diner, "Lake Manitoc." There is a bell attached to the door, but it's too busy to hear the chime unless someone were to focus on it, and then it is all they would hear. Ellie does not notice it when they pass through the threshold. The sound of the beltway instantly rushes at their eardrums. "It's two hours, give or take, but I can do it in less if Sam shuts his piehole."

They're not holding hands anymore, but the siblings linger close together while traveling on the parking lot asphalt; Dean had to park towards the back due to the rush of customers. It is well into the evening and the light left in the sky is dipping and bottoming out, the streetlights coming alive in response. Snowflakes float around in empty spaces and brush against Ellie and Dean's bodies. They are not thick enough to accumulate much, gathering on stationary vehicles and patches of grass, but disappearing all together when touching down on asphalt.

The air is frosty and packs a bitter punch. The chill curls around Ellie's gum and yanks on her teeth, numbing their function and causing her jaw to ache. To top it off, the flavor combination of the blue and orange gumballs she committed to chew is awful. She thought it would taste better with time, but it is only getting worse.

Dean gives her a strange almost amused look when he sees her struggling to get a handle on her gum. "You okay?"

She shakes her head, fast and upset. A car shrieks from a street over. "No. It tastes bad. Uck."

"Well, don't hurt yourself. You can spit it out."

They are close to the car. Sam is pouting on the hood with sad eyes. Snowflakes melt in his hair as headlights scrape across his cheekbones from the traffic moving beside them. He couldn't access Baby because Dean has the keys, to which Dean laughs at. He begins pestering their brother about whether his temper tantrum was worth it, and wondering how he is enjoying the unfavorable temperature: "Nice weather we're having, huh?".

Ellie spits out her gum on the slimy ground and it lands on a white line of a parking space. A nearby traffic light changes to green and the ground rumbles beneath her feet. She looks mournfully down at the brown and pathetic looking splatter, snow landing in her hair and nose running. The air has turned sour. Ellie knows their time in this city has expired.

November 16, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

The night has swallowed Lake Manitoc in one bite when the Winchesters squirm into town. Dean was correct. The drive was practically a cake walk with his lead foot and a silent Sammy – well, a Sam who was driven to silence. Each time he spoke, Dean cranked the volume on his Zeppelin tape and sang louder, beating the steering wheel to the pulse of the track.

The Winchesters bathe in the not-warm glow of the streetlights while moving their gear into the sole motel left in operation in Lake Manitoc. What Ellie knows about the case – or is allowed to know – is that a girl drowned in the lake two blocks down from where they are staying. Other people have also drowned in said lake, so Dean has a pretty good hunch that this is the kind of thing they involve themselves with. The drownings being so close to where they are resting their heads at night is not exactly the most comforting knowledge, but there is a reason Dean always takes the bed closest to the door. Though, when Ellie gets the sofa bed, they push it towards the center of the room if needed, which is the scenario for tonight.

Ellie readies herself for bed. She lays her belongings out on the mattress jutting from the couch since Dean set it up for her. Sam and Dean declare that they will go in the morning to check out the suspect in question: the lake. There is not much they can figure out poking around in the dark, and they need to speak with the locals. For now, all they can do is sleep; or try to, at least. The heater in their room needs replaced as it coughs and hums out a mixture of temperatures. Dean bangs on the contraption with a closed fist, trying to convince it to work better, before taking the same bunched-up limb and knocking it against the wall. The neighbors are being noisy because it is not late enough yet to have common curtesy, but it is bedtime for a nine-year-old girl.

The heater gives up and sighs in relief when it finally shuts off. Someone in the next room screams an obscenity directed at Dean. They sound drunk or sloshing their way in that direction. Dean apologizes to his sister, the fumes in his head tipping over, and Sam has to stop him from going next door. There doesn't need to be a fist fight in the parking lot. They just got here.

Ellie is not worried. She tucks herself in and closes her eyes when the overhead light goes out. A lamp allows the room to still be navigable for her brothers since they are staying up for a bit longer. The child would be more stressed if Dean did engage with the rowdy people. She has slept through family arguments and questionable neighbors before.

Despite the interferences, she drifts off on the pullout sofa with her knees anchored to her chest and a pillow pressed over her head. The heater fading in and out of consciousness and the loud TV vibrating through the thin walls are the soundtrack to her dreams.

November 17, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

Ellie is not allowed to leave the room in the morning and walk the two blocks down to the lake. There isn't an excuse for her to be scoping out the crime scene, and the one they used in Colorado was weak and led to a nightmare fueled camping trip.

Instead, Dean sits her down at the table in the kitchenette to do work for school with included breakfast as a silent compromise: Lucky Charms and orange juice. He let her slack off a bit after Colorado because of how crappy it was, but now she needs to finish up this unit of work or else she will get behind. If Ellie falls behind and doesn't have everything sent in to her online program by the deadline, then they will have someone come out to check in. Dad did not exactly put a valid address when enrolling Ellie, so it is a whole mess of questions they want to avoid if they can, especially since John is missing in action.

Ellie figures it will be a while before she is authorized to tiptoe past the headline of a case again. There is always the chance of her accidental involvement, though; it happened with the woman in white, after all. In fact, every hunt since Dad left Dean and her in New Orleans has been anything but routine. It's as if the monsters are extra ticked off, or something. They can't gage them as well.

It is not like Ellie enjoys getting up close and personal with what goes bump in the night. Quite frankly, the whole lot of them gives her the heebie-jeebies indefinitely. Still, she thinks that there must be something else she could be doing besides having to complete her dull assignments for school that pulls at the strings in her brain until she practically goes cross-eyed. The third-grade sucks.

Ellie doesn't know if she wants to be a hunter when she gets older, which is a path Dean has been nudging her away from for years now. He boards up as much of the hunting lifestyle as he can from her prying eyes and believes that Ellie can eventually live a partial "normal" life; separate, but still occupying the same space as her family. She still doesn't completely understand how that is going to be possible since Sam tried to do the same and was met with backlash, even from her. Apparently, John got it out of his system, because if this was her destiny, he would have already put a gun in her hand.

It is late morning, sunlight spread-eagled and dozing off on the linoleum, when Ellie perks up at activity by the window. She finished catching up on school about twenty minutes ago and has been coloring since she cannot do anything else until an adult checks her work. There hasn't been much to report on for the past two hours separate of a town well-lived in: occasional cars driving past, people shifting around, doors opening and closing, music playing, someone yelling, a dog barking at a stranger, laughing. A person was skateboarding in the parking lot, hopping around on the curb, but when Ellie looks through the transparent curtain, their presence has been replaced with Dean and Sam's much taller figures. There is a woman standing with them – of course – but she swings her body around and heads off promptly, leaving Sam chuckling and a confused Dean.

Another strikeout on Dean's end, Ellie assumes. The lock clicks in the door and suddenly the nine-year-old has a front row seat to whatever conversation they were having outside as it carries on into her domain.

"Seriously? 'Kids are the best'?" Sam is mocking Dean, laughter lurching behind his eyes. "You don't even like kids."

The door to their room murmurs closed behind Dean but he doesn't turn to lock it a million times over like usual. His shoulders bunch up and arms flail left and right. He is defensive. "What do you mean? I hang out with one every day. I love kids!"

Neither of them has acknowledged Ellie, who is still where they left her; the only difference being a messier table from papers, food crumbs, and tiny marks of color from where her crayons missed their intended destination. She watches her brothers, interested. She pushes her artwork aside and her legs cross at the ankle to settle within herself.

"Right." fake-agrees Sam. He is saturated in sarcasm and a classic bitchface. "You love Ellie. Which, technically, she doesn't even count because she's family. That's like winning by default."

Ellie feels her face muscles move in reaction but she's not sure what they're doing. She's surprised, but Sam has a point, and it's also kind of funny. From what she is gathering, Dean tried to woo the woman Ellie saw by utilizing the kid-friendly-family-oriented approach. And yeah, sure, Dean is great with his sister – but also, no. Just no.

Ellie is kind of glad the woman didn't fall for it. She'll keep that thought inside of her brain, though. Probably forever.

"Fine." Dean sulks. His hands hit his thighs defeatedly. He rounds the table and yanks out of his coat, sleeves twisting inside out. The item becomes plastered to the back of the chair across from Ellie. The chair squeals against the flooring when Dean pulls it out. "In that case, we're no longer family because I'm not loving your attitude right now." he grumbles, plopping down. Sam rolls his eyes and leans against the closest bed, which happens to be Dean's.

A beat later, Dean continues, "I'm great with kids. And – " He raps his knuckles on the tabletop. "I can prove it. Right, El?"

Ellie's eyes widen in response to Dean's piercing and awaiting gaze. She did not expect to get swept up in it. She opens her mouth to reply, but Sam beats her to the chase.

"Name three children that you even know," he sounds monotone and tired of wrestling with this conversation. Dean makes a noise like he's got just the answer, or at least a starting point for it, but Sam adds, "Not including our sister."

Dean clenches his teeth, sucking in air as he swallows his answer. His mouth closes and cheeks puff out.

Sam tilts his head, eyebrows pushed up and mouth curving. His hands fold in his lap.

"That's not fair!" jabs Dean. He fists his hair, scrambling for an answer. Sam stands and walks to the bathroom in long strides. "I'm thinking!" he calls out to his brother when the bathroom door shuts. Sam's laughter can be heard from the other side.

Dean instantly whips to Ellie with pain in his eyes. Help a guy out. Please. The girl simply shrugs her shoulders and picks up a green crayon.

Now that she thinks of it, she doesn't know that many children, either. Especially by name.

Ellie stands at the foggy bathroom mirror after a shower, steam hanging in the air and clogging the vents. Her hair drips onto her T-shirt. Sniffling, she leans on the counter to swipe a crooked path in the mirror so she can see herself. Through the smudges, Ellie watches herself tug at the damp ends of her bangs and flick the water off. Dean cut them for her in Nebraska earlier this week and they're a bit uneven and too short, but they will grow.

November 14, 2005

Lincoln, Nebraska

Dean hefts his sister up by gripping under her armpits and gathering the momentum from there. He places her on the sink countertop so she is somewhat level with him. His hands hover near her waist for a moment to make sure she doesn't slide back into the sink basin or slip off entirely due to the small surface area. Ellie remains where she is and grips the underside of the counter for stability. The backs of her legs thump against the cabinets below.

A toilet flushes from the room above them and water bolts down the pipes. Dean combs out Ellie's bangs for longer than what seems necessary. He holds strands of hair in the crevices of his fingers. A pair of scissors is wound through the other hand. Dean bites down on his tongue, humming. He's eyeing where he wants to cut, and Ellie almost goes cross-eyed looking at him.

Sam has been slanted against the doorframe, arms crossed, but he takes himself apart to step into the bathroom.

"Here, let me – "

"Dude, no." Dean instantly intercepts by motioning his scissor hand in Sam's direction. "Have you seen your hair? I wouldn't be surprised if a whole ecosystem lived in there. You're like the fever dream of an all-girls slumber party."

Sam sighs audibly. Ellie shoots him an apologetic look. She wouldn't completely mind if Sam helped because Dean's never done this before.

Speaking of Dean, he continues to go on, "I'm telling you, just sit down and give me five minutes with it." He raises his scissor clad hand again. "I already have scissors. It'll be like seeing a whole new world." Sam's expression is unreadable. Dean grins, breathy laughing into his next words, "Maybe that'll get the stick out of your ass . . ."

With that, Sam spins and marches away on his gigantic legs, slamming the door on his way out. The bathroom mirror ripples against the wall.

When Ellie looks back to Dean, she is met with a smile and wink. He squeezes her knees, getting back into hair cutting position. "You ready?"

Present Day

November 17, 2005

Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin

In the absence of a bathroom fan to efficiently clear the humidity from the air, the steam is still swirling around Ellie, slowly filtering out. She spots the wisps in the artificial overhead light and feels it stick to the inside of her nose.

Without the noise of the shower thundering down on Ellie's senses, she can hear the other occupants of the room. She hesitates when she recognizes the spirit of their interaction. It's pulled taut, and so Winchester, and stored in her mental file labeled "serious conversations she's not supposed to hear but does anyway". They're talking about the case, and Ellie, and she yearns for the day when any Winchester other than herself will understand that motel rooms and cars are not soundproof. Just because she is hidden from their view, or appearing to be asleep, doesn't mean she cannot and will not hear them.

Ellie toes over the dirty clothes and towels sprawled out on the floor to creep closer to the door that is shutting her out from the rest of the world. A weaker section of the floor – of course right beside the bathroom door – dips and pops under her weight, but it's not even close to being loud enough to alert anyone of her lurking. She wiggles her toes on the sticky tile and tips her body to latch onto the signal of Dean and Sam Winchester.

Dean is first up to bat. He is incredibly dismissive. "Nope – not happening. We don't bring it up. Ever. It traumatized her."

Ellie wasn't sure what exact piece of her they were dissecting without her knowledge, but she is certain now. She feels icy in the remaining whispered heat of her shower temperature. Her forehead softly bumps the door as tears bully her eyes like they always do when this is brought up. It's the incident. It's being drug up from the bottom of Lake Manitoc and the river under the Sylvania Bridge, ugly and oozing with sludge. It's words that unlock an explanation to a series of events she still doesn't own the rights to comprehend, even after three years.

Sam scoffs. "Come on, that's a stupid Dad rule, and you know it, Dean. He's the one who forces us to bottle everything up so it doesn't get in the way of another job." He's harsh and splintered edges, pressing down. He's just like he was on the bridge, and Ellie hates it all the same. "I know that when I was a kid in this family, I wanted to talk about things, but I felt like I couldn't because there wasn't room for it." There is a pause. The heater whirls. "Didn't you feel the same?"

"I just don't think now is the right time." Dean's answer is soft and careful. There is something he is purposefully leaving out. "Dad is tracking that thing and – oh yeah, not to mention – she's nine." His words are coated in bitten off whispers.

"Have you even asked her about it?"

"No, because I never want her to have to feel that way again."

"But she will, eventually, if she isn't able to process it."

Ellie's heart is racing. She does not have a clue on how to register anything that is being said, so she doesn't; not really, anyways, because she can't. The conversation is above her and she only wants it to stop. It is hard for Ellie to get air in the bathroom, so she finally bursts out.

"I can hear you." she announces to the room.

What's left of the bathroom steam billows into the new space around her, and she is thrown off course. Her brothers are sitting on their respective unmade beds, the sheets twisted up and hanging down. Dean looks petrified; like she might wither up and dissipate, like she will never be able to reach down and feel a word deep inside the well of her gut again. Her eyes latch onto her oldest brother and refuse to budge because of it. Ellie doesn't understand. She just spoke –

"Ellie," Sam says, cautious. He searches for how to place his next sentence, double checking it letter by letter, "Do you remember your old house?"

That inquiry brake-checks her head. Ellie unlocks and her gaze lands on Sam. She remembers Pennsylvania. She remembers how green and overgrown it was in the summer. She remembers the purple color of her bedroom walls and the hazy streetlights that shone through the windows in the dark. She remembers the kitchen curtains and the places the floor creaked in the hallway. She remembers the smell of her mother's hair. She remembers her father's eyes. She remembers her little brother's weight in her lap while they watched cartoons on the couch. She remembers the way her parents' footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, distinct to which one of them was walking, and how she knew it wasn't them outside of her room that final night because of it.

She remembers how her house looked when it caught flame. Busted open and dancing in color.

Ellie nods. Her lack of verbal communication causes Dean to stiffen more, if possible. He shifts his weight on the bed.

Sam acknowledges her answer with a grateful head bob. "There's a boy named Lucas involved with this case. Something bad happened to him, too; he saw something." He's still talking as if he is navigating a crime scene. His tone is balanced and entirely attentive to Ellie's reaction. "He isn't talking. We were wondering if you would want to help us try to communicate with him."

Ellie's chest tightens. This is the closest they have ever gotten to talking about it while simultaneously not. Particles of language want to dry up in her throat because she can't, but she swallows it down.

"Yes."