She Talks to Angels | {BOOK 2}

1|Dean's Back

"DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!"

My eyes snapped open, adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. It had been a long four months since Dean had gone to Hell. Beside me, the other figure in the bed shifted slightly, and I looked over at him. Brigham Lewis. Former best friend of Bela Talbot, and my source of comfort during the past few months. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the bed and dressed quickly.

I got a bag of supplies together and after uttering a silent apology to Brigham, I grabbed my keys and headed to the car. I white knuckled it all the way to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

⁘

I knocked on Bobby's front door, the duffel bag of supplies slung over my shoulder. A moment later, the man himself answered the door.

"Ellie," Bobby breathed.

"Hey, Bobby? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," Bobby stepped aside, allowing me to enter.

He took my duffel bag from me, leading me further into the familiar house. It had been way too long since I last set foot in this place. It had been before the confrontation with Lilith in Indiana.

"So, how've you been, Bobby?" I asked.

"How do you think I've been?" Bobby shot back gruffly.

I looked around, eyeing the discarded beer bottles and other crap that was littered around the house in disarray while fiddling with the locket around my neck.

"Yeah, I guess that's understandable," I mumbled.

"What are you doing here, Ellie?"

"Okay, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think Dean might be back."

I didn't look at the older hunter, focusing instead on anything else in the room.

"And what exactly would give you an idea like that?"

I was quiet, not saying anything, and Bobby sighed.

"There's a spare room upstairs. You might as well settle in."

"Thanks, Bobby."

He grunted, heading into the kitchen. I took my duffel bag upstairs and turned on the light in the spare room. It looked like the room hadn't been used for many years. At least since Dean and Sam must have been kids. The blanket on the bed was faded and when I got closer to set my duffel down, I could smell mildew and dust. Looking around the rest of the room, it became more and more clear that this must be Dean's old room.

There were sigils crudely carved into the bedposts, an old sawed off in the closet and a silver pocketknife still stashed under the edge of the mattress. Other than that, there wasn't much around to indicate who had previously occupied the room. As I was transferring my clothes from my duffel to the chest of drawers, I was suddenly aware of a disturbance downstairs. I grabbed my handgun and crept toward the stairs, listening intently.

"I'm not a shapeshifter!"

"Then you're a revenant!"