Second Generation (Supernatural Sam x OC)

Chapter 7: Girl With The Demon Blood

Everything hurt. Elliot wasn't even fully awake, but everything ached. Though at second thought the pain wasn't as bad as she thought it should have been. Maybe the yellow eyed demon didn't wait this time for her to wake before shooting her up. The worst of the pain was her inner thigh and calf, it burned, and there was a tightness on her side just below her ribs. Groaning and gripping her burning thigh, before she froze. She wasn't restrained. Gasping, blood shot eyes snapped open and she jackknifed out of bed.

"Hey-hey-hey! You're safe! Elliott, you're safe. Take it easy." Sam cooed as he hovered over Elliott trying to keep her calm and not pull her stitches or reopen any of her other wounds. He was afraid to touch her for the same reason.

Elliott's panicked eyes landed on Sam as her chest heaved quickly not able to fill her lungs. Her eyes widened confused by her own actions. She could see Sam, and could see the blessed old motel room not the awful cold concrete prison. She could now remember last night's rescue, knew that Sam, Dean, and Max had saved her from that terrible place. She remembered it, but something was happening, like her body didn't seem to remember like her brain did. The blood that rushed in her ears and blocked out most of her hearing, sounding like Alastair's wicked blowtorch. Her breath rapidly drawing in short bits, but not enough to properly fill her lungs. She wheezed brows scrunched in confused terror. The crumby motel room was tilting and began blurring in and out into the dark concrete room, covered in blood stains. She could hear that awful blowtorch rushing, burning into her thigh and calf, melting and charring her flesh.

"Elliott!" A voice shouted over the hissing gas of the torch. "What's wrong with her?!"

"Ah, shit. She's having a panic attack." Another voice spoke, but the roaring of the flames made it difficult to make out their words.

Sam's voice Elliott put together. Suddenly a very warm, and very large hand cupped her along the jaw and the back of her neck. Making her unfocused gaze land on him. Hazel eyes, much deeper and darker than her own, landed on her. Sam.

She felt her hand being pulled upward and placed on her own chest. Then the other hand was pulled up and out, landing on something solid and warm. Elliott didn't leave Sam's galaxy like eyes. Her palm resting on his rock hard chest. Feeling the rising and falling with his exaggerated breathing. Then it was coming back slowly and she could hear again. The hissing gas died down, and she realized there were no flames. She wasn't there in the concrete room she was here, in the motel with Sam.

"Follow my breathing, Ellie," Elliott tried to obey his soft calming voice, gasping for air trying to fill her lungs. "Long deep breaths. Come on. You can do it. Just follow mine."

Sam's gentle concern had her focus. His chest moving under her palm rising and falling slowly. Large hands holding her own to his chest, warm and comforting. His voice deep and commanding yet calm and gentle.

"That's it. There you go. Good girl." Sam praised as Elliott's breathing calmed, now mimicking his. The tall hunter was crouched down next to the bed to meet her wide eyes.

"Ellie are you okay?" Max and Dean asked at the same time. The two now in her line of sight just over Sam's broad shoulder. She blinked a few times feeling exhaustion and embarrassment consume her. She was better than this. She was tougher than this. She didn't have panic attacks she helped victims that did.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I-I mean I'm good now." She corrected herself not feeling up to bickering about her not being fine. Avoiding eye contact she looked away to hide her shame. "Thank you, Sam." Sam's hands lingered above her chest a moment longer before dropping to his sides and gave her a small smile.

"Ellie-" Dean stepped closer, obviously wanting to help but not sure how.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't -I, uh- that's never happened before." Elliott breathed confused at her own actions.