The End | {BOOK 5}

43| Panic Attack

"Ellie? We need to talk," Dean said.

We were in a motel room, on our third back-to-back hunt. Sam was out doing research at the library.

"Do we?" I asked, not looking at him as I continued digging through my bag.

"Yeah, we do," he insisted.

"What about?"

"How about you stop and look at me first?"

I spared him a glance, knowing I was being a smart aleck as I immediately went back to focusing on my task. I heard him let out a frustrated sigh, and then a moment later the bag was swiped out from my grasp and he had taken a few steps back from me.

"Dean, give it back," I said, going to grab it.

He swung it out of my reach, taking another step back to counter my movements.

"Look at me."

"Seriously, give it here."

"Look at me, Ellie."

"Come on," I growled, making another swipe for the bag.

He threw it in the far corner of the room, grabbing my wrists to keep me from moving around him to get to it.

"I said look at me, Eleanor."

I swallowed, forcing my eyes away from the bag behind Dean and up at his face. Worry was painted over his features, causing the lines in his face to be more pronounced and his eyes to shine brighter. They looked closer to an aged whiskey than green in the light of the motel room, making me wish I was a lot less sober at the moment.

"What?" I whispered.

"How are you?"

"What?"

"How are you?" he repeated. "Honestly?"

"Honestly?" I repeated and he nodded his head encouragingly. "I'm peachy. Can I get my bag now?"

"Ellie, this is serious."

"I'm being serious. I'm fine, Dean. Let go of me."

"Not until you tell me the truth. You've been scaring me lately. You almost got seriously hurt on the last hunt. I need to know I don't have to worry about you this time around."

"Don't you worry about me all the time, Winchester?" I smirked.

The glare Dean fixed me with, wiping all worry from his face, made me sigh and roll my eyes.

"Seriously, Dean, I'm fine. That was just an accident; they happen. I'll be more careful this time, I promise."

Dean's grip on my wrists loosened, but he didn't let go all the way.

"Why'd you run away?"

"What?"

"After we locked Michael away in my head. Why'd you run away?"

"Oh, now you want to talk about that?"

"We haven't exactly had a lot of time to bring it up, Ellie," he reminded me.

It was true. Between his suicidal plan, waking up Donatello, the gorgon case, Jack killing Michael, and the last few back-to-back hunts, we hadn't really had time to talk about anything like my decision to ditch for over a week. Honestly, the reason I'd gotten sloppy on the last hunt and nearly had the werewolf we were after hurt me was because it was all catching up to me.

"I just... needed some time to clear my head... after everything," I mumbled, averting my gaze again.

"And that required you to lie to me about helping your mom with a case?"