Second Generation (Supernatural Sam x OC)

Chapter 17: Lets Murder A Disney Princess

"Dude! Come on!" Dean criticized as they made their way to the motel of the week. Watching Sam stare at his phone for the millionth time was getting too depressing. "I miss her too Sammy, but she said she needed space."

"It's been a whole month Dean. She only texted me once." He looked down at his phone displaying the text screen he couldn't stop looking at. Showing a simple text.

'I'm okay. Not hunting alone. Don't worry about me Giant <3.'

Sam sighed as he fiddled with his phone in the passenger's seat. He scrolled through his multiple unanswered texts responses before scrolling back up to her text. "She should have checked in again by now."

"Okay, how about after this case we start asking around? Maybe Bobby will finally give in, and tell us where she's at?" Dean suggested. Although the older brother's words were comforting, he was unable to shake his smile.

Sam rolled his eyes as they pulled up to the front of their motel room. "Really? This case has you too cheery." Sam complained opening his door and stepping out of the Impala.

"Strippers Sammy, strippers. We are on an actual case with strippers." Dean grinned from ear to ear. "Now go do your homework while I check out anyone who might have known the victims." Excited to go to the strip club to interview any possible witnesses. The case was a weird one, multiple murderers claimed to have met a stripper that convinced them to kill for them. His grin turning into a full on toothy grin.

"Dean that siren could be anyone of those girls, just- Just be careful?" Sam grumbled leaving him to go research in the motel room.

Elliott frowned looking down at Sam's latest text. He was worried about her. She could tell and honestly, she was worried about him as well. The entire month she had been trying to text him back. Every time she would start typing out an apology or an update, she would immediately second guess herself and erase her text before she could even send it. Nothing she typed was good enough. It was obvious that she was not handling the separation as well as she had hoped but she really didn't want him to know that. He needed to trust her before she could really hunt with him again. It had been easier when she was hunting with Asa. He had been good at making sure they were always on a case, keeping them busy and her mind off of Sam. Then it turned out Asa had his own demons, so they went their separate ways. It wasn't that she couldn't hunt on her own, she could no problem. It was that when it was just her, she tended to get distracted doing research, or during an interview just wondering what her Giant was up to. Shaking her thoughts, she turned her phone off and tucked it into her boot.

She sighed taking another look at her reflection in the cheap light up full length mirror. She felt ridiculous, and couldn't wait until this case was solved. Being a girl that normally didn't use much makeup it took her a little extra time to figure out how to use all of the stuff one of the other girls lent her. When a few of the girls realized that she didn't know how to do makeup they jumped at the chance to do it for her. She looked like a painted whore. She chuckled at the expression when she realized how close to the truth those words were. Now that she had taken most of the more extreme stuff off, she looked a little better.

Elliott flicked her long copper blonde braid over her shoulder to examine her wardrobe for her first night. This undercover job was embarrassing enough as is. So, to make herself feel more comfortable Elliott decided that if she was going to be an exotic dancer, she was going to be a nerdy one. The costume store associate had been all too willing to help her, and settled her with a slave girl Leia outfit. Slutty yet nerdy. It honestly seemed like a better idea at the costume store. Elliott kept pulling at the costume trying to cover herself more, only to reveal more in another area. The waxy plastic bikini top was definitely a size or two too small, causing her breasts to almost fall out. Which was probably the point. The gold on the top matched the gold that slung around low on her hips holding up the thin strips of long maroon fabric that was supposed to be a skirt.