Second Generation (Supernatural Sam x OC)

Chapter 18: Do You Not Remember Killing Him?

Elliott sat in the back of the Impala still trying to process their last hunt. She could feel the Winchesters concerned glances through the rear view mirror as sat unusually quiet in the front seats. It was a long drive down the Midwest back road. They had left the funeral maybe an hour ago but Elliott was still having a difficult time processing.

**

Elliott sat on the bed Sam was laid back in, wishing she was out there astral projecting while he stayed behind to assist Pamela.

"Sugar, they are going to be fine. You can stop worrying. I know what I'm doing." Pamela hummed thick voice sooth like honey. Elliott felt her cheeks heat up being caught fretting over the guys.

"Sorry, it's not that I don't trust your abilities. I just don't like waiting around."

"Hmm, woman of action." The psychic smirked at her. "Hot."

She choked on air cheeks now burning. Glad that the dark haired woman couldn't see her blush, but she figured that she could just tell somehow. Elliott didn't know what it was about the psychic that made her act like a school girl with a crush but she would never actually do anything. She loved Sam more than she could even explain, sure the psychic was attractive, but she was nothing compared the big hulking mass of muscle and brain that Sam was. Sam unlike Pamela made her feel comfortable and at home, she never felt nervous around him because they fit so well together.

"Speaking of abilities. I hear you have your own," Pamela's lopsided smirk fell into a serious line.

"How do you know that? Did they tell you?" Elliott asked in disbelief. Offended that Sam and Dean would tell anybody about her healing ability.

Pamela chuckled. "You keep forgetting I'm a psychic, don't you? Those boys would never betray you like that, Elliott."

"Oh," Elliott chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of her neck.

"It's a pretty nifty trick you got there." She got up from her chair and made her way to sit on the bed next to Elliott.

"It's not a trick."

"Oh I know sugar. I can tell." She set a hand on her shoulder with a sad smile. "-but word of caution? You maybe able to help others with this gift but don't forget where it came from. Nothing good can come from a demon." Slyly Pamela's hand slid down her arm to rest on her upper thigh.

Elliott cleared her throat and stood up displacing the woman's hand but before she could stumble out a protest that she was with Sam, a rustling near the door caught their attention. Her eyes flickered from the motel door to Pamela quickly to see the psychic holding a finger to her lips. Then they were both up on their feet moving silently to the motel door.

Elliott had her small dagger out at the ready but when she reached the door and yanked it open- nothing. Nothing but an empty doorway, no one was there. Her shoulders fell and forehead wrinkled confused. She knew both her and Pamela had heard something. A swoosh of fabric behind the women had them spinning around quickly.

"No!" Elliott shouted. A large balding man stood between the two beds where Sam and Dean laid unconscious. When the man's eyes landed on them, they flicked inky black. A sneer creeped on his face. Not wasting any time Elliott sprinted at the demon, her dagger in hand. She wasn't stupid she knew the silver dagger would not harm them black eyed bastard but she hoped it would help her distract it long enough to get to Sam's demon killing knife.

"Well ain't I a lucky one. The reward on you bitch, is higher than ever. Especially now that Alastair has added on to the Prince of Hell's reward. You must'a really pissed him off, doll face." The balding demon spoke confidently.