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[Sam's Army] - The Aftermath
Jun. 5th, 2008 08:15 pm[ooc: Immediately following this and this. Written with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idontdig_graves.]
May 17, 2008
Standing here felt like the only thing she could do. The old Elle wouldn't have even cared. The old Elle wouldn't have even been there though, she would be in Hartsdale eagerly waiting for her father to tell her what else she could do or not do simply to make him see her in the light she ached to be in. She'd put that behind her though, and with that closed door she'd managed to climb through a window of some sort and found this man that made her actually feel like she could be herself. She hadn't been herself in so long that it nearly closed her off, but he had pulled her free. Now he was clinging to his brother's body on the battle field trying to pull him back to him. Trying with everything in him to make Dean come back because this really wasn't fair. One year hadn't been fair, but if Elle had learned anything over the past few months it was that demons don't care. They took what they wanted, lives, bodies, and now souls. It really wasn't fair at all, and part of her wanted to close it all out. To simply compartmentalize the one section of her that cared for Dean, that loved Sam and wanted to go to his side just so that it was easier for her to look at him like this. She was already numb. She knew that much to be true because her sock felt warm and her hand had a slight sticky feel to it that was surely blood, and probably her own. She just didn't want to move from that one spot, because if she got closer to them... if she went to Sam like she wanted to she didn't want to be pushed aside because she wasn't Dean. Sam needed Dean... not her right now, and maybe it should've hurt her more to think about, but she was already so numb.
Adam wiped his sword down quickly, cleaning it as best he could on the battlefield, before sheathing it at his back and moving among the bodies of the fallen to her side. He could still hear the chanting of those performing the exorcisms, but it was like a distant hum in the back of his head like the buzzing of bees on a summer day. Dean had fallen. They had failed. And if he'd known the boy better, perhaps he would have grieved, but the failure itself made him angry, and the blank look on Elle's face worried him. There was only one he could do anything about, however, no matter how tired he was of losing. Reaching her, his eyes glanced over her seeing the blood, trying to find the wounds, but it was her eyes, her face that almost frightened him for her. He'd always seen her as fragile, broken by her father, and their brief connections had been far too hurried for him to even attempt to put the pieces back together. He wondered if this would be the thing that broke her utterly, if this was something she could come back from. He shot a look at Sam, half wanting him to turn, to see his wife, but remembering his own losses, he doubted it would occur to the boy even. So she had him, and he could be here. His fingers reached out, resting on her shoulder, brushing her hair back and trying not to think too hard about all the blood. She was still standing, and he could heal the physical, if she would let him. The rest...he could at least remain at her side as long as she needed. Surely Peter would understand.
"Elle?" He called her name softly, hoping to catch her attention, get her to focus on him so he could see to her.
( It should have been a crippling fear, or something other than the nothing that she felt washing over her. )
idontdig_graves.]May 17, 2008
Standing here felt like the only thing she could do. The old Elle wouldn't have even cared. The old Elle wouldn't have even been there though, she would be in Hartsdale eagerly waiting for her father to tell her what else she could do or not do simply to make him see her in the light she ached to be in. She'd put that behind her though, and with that closed door she'd managed to climb through a window of some sort and found this man that made her actually feel like she could be herself. She hadn't been herself in so long that it nearly closed her off, but he had pulled her free. Now he was clinging to his brother's body on the battle field trying to pull him back to him. Trying with everything in him to make Dean come back because this really wasn't fair. One year hadn't been fair, but if Elle had learned anything over the past few months it was that demons don't care. They took what they wanted, lives, bodies, and now souls. It really wasn't fair at all, and part of her wanted to close it all out. To simply compartmentalize the one section of her that cared for Dean, that loved Sam and wanted to go to his side just so that it was easier for her to look at him like this. She was already numb. She knew that much to be true because her sock felt warm and her hand had a slight sticky feel to it that was surely blood, and probably her own. She just didn't want to move from that one spot, because if she got closer to them... if she went to Sam like she wanted to she didn't want to be pushed aside because she wasn't Dean. Sam needed Dean... not her right now, and maybe it should've hurt her more to think about, but she was already so numb.
Adam wiped his sword down quickly, cleaning it as best he could on the battlefield, before sheathing it at his back and moving among the bodies of the fallen to her side. He could still hear the chanting of those performing the exorcisms, but it was like a distant hum in the back of his head like the buzzing of bees on a summer day. Dean had fallen. They had failed. And if he'd known the boy better, perhaps he would have grieved, but the failure itself made him angry, and the blank look on Elle's face worried him. There was only one he could do anything about, however, no matter how tired he was of losing. Reaching her, his eyes glanced over her seeing the blood, trying to find the wounds, but it was her eyes, her face that almost frightened him for her. He'd always seen her as fragile, broken by her father, and their brief connections had been far too hurried for him to even attempt to put the pieces back together. He wondered if this would be the thing that broke her utterly, if this was something she could come back from. He shot a look at Sam, half wanting him to turn, to see his wife, but remembering his own losses, he doubted it would occur to the boy even. So she had him, and he could be here. His fingers reached out, resting on her shoulder, brushing her hair back and trying not to think too hard about all the blood. She was still standing, and he could heal the physical, if she would let him. The rest...he could at least remain at her side as long as she needed. Surely Peter would understand.
"Elle?" He called her name softly, hoping to catch her attention, get her to focus on him so he could see to her.
( It should have been a crippling fear, or something other than the nothing that she felt washing over her. )
