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No Deal 03: Paint it Black (PG-13) Dean, Ellen, Gordon Walker (Gen) - Not a rock, I'm just Ruth
All Me, no apologies
No Deal 03: Paint it Black (PG-13) Dean, Ellen, Gordon Walker (Gen)
Title: Paint It Black
Author: Just Ruth
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Dean, Ellen, Kubrick, Gordon Walker, Lenore
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Supernatural is the property of Eric Kripe and the CW. Characters/Situations are being borrowed for entertainment purposes only. You think anyone would pay me for this?
Spoilers/warnings: AU from AHBL2, violence, vampires, "Bloodlust," "Hunted," "The Kids Are All Right"
Summary: Gordon Walker's back and he's got Dean in his sights
Symbols: _italics_
Soundtrack: Laugh, I Almost Died by Rolling Stones
Special thanks to: intrepidy and thehighwaywoman for invaluable help
Notes: According to a question and answer session in Samantha Ferris' blog in 2006, she sees Ellen Harvelle as driving a white, tricked out GMC Jimmy. For Dean's laugh see Supernatural Gag Reel season one, For maniacal grin, see Supernatural Gag Reel Season two
Word count: 3952


Dean stared at his brother in disbelief. "What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam?" He sputtered. "If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "No, Dean, that is _not_ our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!
"Ash left a message for me on a disk in the safe," said Ellen. "I've got to deliver his things to his brother in Boston. I want you to come with me, Dean."


Dean had been silent for most of the drive from Cicero. He hadn't fussed when Ellen had insisted on driving this leg. The white "Jimmy" was her baby after all and a lot better than Ash's V6 Volvo. He would have preferred the Impala, but it was too close to the events of Fitchburg to risk setting Henricksen off again.

"She said he wasn't mine," he finally said to the passing scenery.

"Oh, Dean, the minute I saw that little guy I knew he was yours," Ellen shook her head. "He's got your chin and he's got your eyes. 'Bout the only thing he's missing is a set of bowed legs."

"So, Lisa lied?" Dean sat up, frowning.

"She did. And I can't say as I blame her," Ellen glanced over. "Now, hear me out, Dean! Eight years ago you blew into her life like a hurricane and blew right back out leaving her to deal with the mess _you_ made. She doesn't hear from you, so she picks up the pieces, puts them together, gets the whole thing working and then _wham_! There you are on her doorstep. She's got a responsibility to that boy. You weren't thinking of staying so why should she set up little Ben and herself for a world of hurting?"

"Yeah, I guess," Dean slumped down again. "The fact that we were fighting the Changeling Mother in the neighborhood didn't help." An odd story about a man falling on a saw blade had set off a bell in Dean's head. A little extra scouring turned up four more strange deaths and children that weren't behaving like children. He hadn't planned on telling Ellen they were also taking a detour to check in on an old girlfriend. He hadn't planned on showing up on Lisa Braeden's doorstep for her son Ben's birthday party. Ben, who had set off a whole different set of alarms. . .

"No, and I've got to tell you, the last time I was in a catfight like that it was all your Daddy's fault."

"What? Dad? How?" He stopped slumping and looked interested.

Ellen chuckled. "John was polite and gallant to this damn fool of a woman who got the totally wrong idea about him. He proceeded to try and change her idea of _him_ by giving her the wrong idea about _me_. I end up in a fist fight with this idiot and all Bill and John did was sit back and _laugh_ ." She shook her head. "I threw _her_ out; shot both of _them_ with rock salt square in their asses."

"Un," Dean squirmed. Rock salt didn't kill a human but it hurt like hell. "So, where are we headed?"

"Indiana," Ellen turned back to the road. "You've had your detour, I'm having mine. Got a message from Kubrick. He's in the hospital."

"Kubrick?" Dean remembered the lanky form in rusty black from the funeral pyre at the Roadhouse. He'd done a lot of praying and reading of his Bible and very little practical help. "What could he have been doing that would land him in the hospital?"

"Don't let Jerome fool you; he's tougher than he looks."

"Jerome?" Dean blinked.

Ellen left him at a small motel while she drove to the hospital. Dean dumped his duffle bags in one room and put Ellen's luggage in the other, before going to the desk to get directions to the nearest diner.

He never made it.

Ellen had lied her way into the ward as Kubrick's sister. The nurses said he was resting and let her into the room Kubrick was currently sharing with an empty bed. Jerome Kubrick looked like he had taken a severe beating. There were stitches over his right cheekbone and both eyes were black. He cracked a swollen lid as Ellen sat in the chair next to him.

"I'm here, Jerome," she said quietly.

"Ellen?" he rasped. "Why are you here?"

Ellen blinked and leaned closer. "You asked for me, Jerome. I got the message on my voice mail just this morning."

"No!" Kubrick gave a half-lunge to sit up. "Ellen, I never left that message. It was Gordon, Gordon Walker."


"He escaped from prison. Christ forgive me, I believed his lies. He does not believe that Sam Winchester is dead. I knew from Miranda you were going to Boston with Ash's things. He wanted my help and when I refused he. . . he. . ."

"My God," Ellen jumped to her feet. "He's after Dean!"

"God smite him."

"Jerome, if anything happens to Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker's not going to have to worry about God. He's going to have to worry about _me_." Ellen's jaw set grimly.

Two of them yanked the bag off his head and pushed him into the cellar. It had been three in the attack but he'd sent one head-first into the dumpster with an ugly, wet thump. It was an eight-foot drop. As he landed the knee they had kicked to get him down gave way and he fell harder than he should have. "Ah, damn it!" The cuffs holding his hands behind his back were biting into his wrists. He rolled to his feet, grimacing and limped into the shade to set his back against a support pillar. "Who the hell are you?" He shouted up at the glimpse of the cloudy sky.

"Just an old friend, Dean." The familiar voice was too calm. "Remember me?"

"Gordon? Gordon, you bastard! What do you want now?" Dean spat. He looked around. There were clusters of shadows in the corners. He could see debris where they had chopped out the stairs.

"Now, Dean, I never bad-mouthed _your_ old man, did I?" He had the nerve to sound amused.

"What do you _want_?" Dean shouted again.

"Where's your brother?"

"I don't believe you!" Dean swallowed hard. "Sam is dead." The words choked in his throat.
Three words he hadn't said aloud since the Devil's Gate.

"I didn't hear you."

"Sam is dead!" he screamed it, feeling the words tearing bleeding wounds worse than the small cuts Gordon and his crony had dotted his arms and legs with.

"Huh, so Kubrick told the truth. Who would have thought that? Well, that's all right, Dean. You can still help me with a little experiment. That's why you've been marked."

"And here I thought you were just getting your rocks off," Dean jeered.

"It's a day for reunions, Dean. There's an old friend of yours down there with you. I'll be back soon enough to see how you're doing." He dropped the door shut, cutting out all but a sliver of light in the open area.

Dean swallowed hard and listened intently. He could hear another breathing, a slight shifting sound. "Who's in here?"

"Lenore." A woman's voice came from the shadows in the opposite end of the cellar.

"I remember you." She had been the leader of a vampire nest that had been feeding off animals. Gordon Walker had set out to exterminate them and he had joined in until Sam got him to open his eyes and see the shades of grey he had ignored. "I don't suppose you could give me a hand, here?"

"I'm sorry. He's been starving me. I don't think you really want me to come over there."

"Yeah, I can see your point." Dean swallowed again.

"You smell like fresh blood."

"Yeah, well, you can thank Gordy for that. I can't do anything about it until I get these cuffs off." Dean managed a nervous smile in the direction her voice had come from. "I don't suppose you have a paperclip?"

"Actually, there _is_ an old file cabinet over here." He heard her rummaging. "Yes, I have one." She paused. "I'm going to put it there in the light. Can you get it?"

"I guess so." He flexed his knee experimentally, grunting in pain.

She stepped to the sliver of light, breathing hard. Her skin was even paler than he remembered; her eyes were full of pain. They seemed to glow as she swallowed.

"Don't move," she said thickly. "Don't move an inch. This is. . . this is very hard." She hissed and quickly looked away from Dean.

Dean froze and held his breath. He couldn't stop his heart from hammering as her fangs dropped. _Sam was right about you before, don't prove him wrong now._

As soon as he thought it, her fangs retracted. She dropped the paperclip and fled back to the shadows. He heard her stumble and sob.

"Lenore?" he called. "You okay?"

She didn't answer.

He couldn't help cursing as he bent down to grab the twist of metal. He didn't like picking cuffs behind his back; it took longer than he liked. One cuff dropped free and he was able to bring his hands in front of him to get the other off faster. He threw them behind him. Gordon hadn't found one of his knives, so he used it to slice what was left of his tee-shirt into strips. He wrapped his arms, swearing at the odd angles.

"Son of a bitch owes me a new pair of jeans," he said out loud as he tried to bandage the slashes on his legs. "Is this any better?"

"Not really, but thank you for trying." Her voice was still strained. "He's going to kill both of us."

"Yeah, I figured that," Dean looked around on his side of the basement, trying to assess what was there. "Unless we get him first."

In just about every city or large town there is one bar off the beaten path that a special clientele frequent. A Hunter's haven never looks anything other than an ordinary dive; camouflage for the extraordinary things that often happen there. Ellen walked into "Kestrel's" and conversation stopped.

"Hello, boys," she said pleasantly. "Wylder," she acknowledged a former regular. "Tim." She nodded at another familiar face. She made her way to the bar and ordered a glass of the on tap.

"So, Ellen," the hunter she had identified as Wylder stepped up next to her. "What brings you here?"

"Visiting a friend," Ellen sipped her glass and nodded with satisfaction. "Jerome Kubrick, someone beat the hell out of him. He says it was Gordon Walker."

Wylder paused. "It's better to leave Gordon alone, Ellen."

"Gordon has decided to not leave me alone." There was an edge in her voice that made Wylder take a step back. "You know where he is?"

"No," Wylder looked around uncomfortably. "But I know who might."

Ellen took another swallow of her beer and waited.

"I've been running for almost a year. Everywhere but where he wants me to go," whispered Lenore from the other side of the room. "I couldn't let him find my family. I thought if he had me, he'd be satisfied."

Dean nodded. "I can understand that; wanting to do anything for your family." He rubbed his knee and grimaced. "It's something I'd do."

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. He looked towards her. "So, why Sam?"

"Honestly? He didn't like Gordon and Gordon didn't like him. I thought he could be reasoned with."

"You were right. I'm only sorry I wasn't." Dean rubbed his forehead. "I was raised to hate everything supernatural. I went there ready to kill you. . . kill all of you."

"But you didn't."

_That's what Sam said._ Dean closed his eyes, his adrenalin draining. Something crawled past his leg.

"Shit!" He kicked the rat away from him. It flew through the air. He didn't hear it land. He heard a squeal and a horrible wet crunch.

Lenore gave a shaky laugh. "It seems it's true, when you're really hungry you can eat anything."

Dean felt thin fingers of sweat creep down his collar.

Creedy had the long face of a hound. He threw his duffle into the trunk of his car, glancing nervously behind him, making sure there was no one around. He closed the trunk.

Ellen was standing by the rear door, her arms folded. "Hello, Nathan," she said. Creedy stepped back and visibly paled. "Remember me?"

"Ellen," he croaked, backing up.

"Where's Dean?" Ellen followed him.

"Ellen . . . Gordon would have killed me if I didn't help him." Creedy looked wildly from one side to the other. "As it was, Dean cracked McKeon's skull."

"Where is he, Nathan?" Ellen repeated sharply.

"Gordon has been starving this fang for days. Dean's already dead, Ellen."

Ellen uncrossed her arms. "He'd better not be, Nathan. _Where is he_?"

Dean retreated further into his side of the basement. Lenore had caught another rat and as little as he liked rats – he liked hearing her eat them even less. She gagged when she finished. He poked around an abandoned workbench, finding a broken saw blade about nine inches long. He tested a point on his thumb and promptly stuck in his mouth as it drew blood.

"Dean!" Lenore called. "Someone's coming -- one set of footsteps."

"Good," Dean moved over under the door. He brought the saw blade with him. "It's bound to be Gordon. I'll belt him and you can chow down."

Lenore moved enough into the light so he could see her scowl. "No."

"Oh, come on," he jeered. "It's not like you'd be biting anything human."

"Wasn't that his excuse for killing me and my family? That we weren't anything human?" She challenged.

Dean couldn't answer. "You're right." He turned his head. "You're more human than he is." He leaned back against the pillar. "Maybe more human than I am."

"I don't think so." Her voice softened.

The door was flung back. "Dean!" shouted a woman's voice.


"Hang on!" A rope ladder dropped. Ellen scrambled down with a small duffle. She landed in a crouch with a machete out. "Where's the vampire?"

Lenore shrank back into the shadows with a growling hiss.

"She's here. It's all right." Dean stepped between Ellen and Lenore. "Her name's Lenore. Sam told you about her. She doesn't kill humans."

Ellen looked at him. "I'm having a hard time believing that."

Dean spread his arms. "Look at me, Ellen; Gordon and his pal dinged me all over – hell, this one hack by my left elbow is still bleeding. Lenore never touched me."

Ellen frowned. She sheathed the machete at her hip, In a lightening movement, she jammed her thumbs into Dean's upper lip.

"OW! Geez, Ellen!" he sputtered, swatting her hands off.

"Now, I believe you." She turned to the shadows. "I'm sorry. I came prepared for the worst."

"Not surprising," Lenore's voice whispered from the dark.

"Bring any dead man's blood?" Dean hefted the duffle.

"Enough to paint the walls. We'd better get out of here. Creedy's going to warn Gordon."

"Right," Dean nodded. "Lenore; get out, get yourself something to eat and leave town. I've got a plan. Gordon's going to get a surprise he'll never see coming." He fished a roll of gauze out of the bag.

Ellen folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

Gordon Walker cursed when he saw the open door and the ladder. He bent to grab the ladder when a voice crooned up from the old basement.

"Gordy," the man's voice drawled his name. "Gordy. Come on down and play."

"Is that you Dean?" Gordon asked. The young man's voice sounded strange.

There was a harsh, staccato laugh that made the hair on his arms raise. "Who else Gordy? Come on down and play."

"Where's Ellen?" He could just make out what looked to be a set of woman's legs at the edge of the light circle, but he had to ask.

"That's a great story, Gordy." Dean stepped into the light. He was drenched in blood with a crazed grin on his face. "See, I found an old saw blade in the basement." He flourished the bloody scrap of metal. "I killed Lenore. Had to. She was hungry. Know what happens when you saw off a fang's head Gordy? You get a lot of blood. And you were so nice to put all those little cuts all over me, Gordy. Her blood got into my blood. What a rush!" He threw the blade into the darkness.

"It's such a high, Gordy. I've never felt so good. But you know? I got real, real hungry and Ellen? Why she came to rescue me, but, oops!" Dean shrugged and laughed again like a distorted Woody Woodpecker. He licked and smacked his lips.

"Mm-mm-she tasted good, Gordy, really, _really_ good." He crooked his fingers. "But I'm hungry again, Gordy. I want to know how _you_ taste. Come on and play, Gordy. You're not _scared_ of me are you?" Dean waited for an answer.

"If he's not, I am," muttered Ellen in a barely audible tone behind him.

Dean didn't take his eyes off the door, but he was tempted to turn and stick his tongue out at Ellen.

The sob startled him. "Oh, God," Gordon's voice broke. "What have I done?"

He almost broke character, but remembered that Gordon had tried to kill Sam; had made him feel so incredibly helpless tied to that chair and unable to scream a warning that he had nightmares about it until the Devil's Gate opened.

"Come and play Gordy," he taunted again.

"Yes," it was no more than a whisper.

He dropped like a thunderbolt through the door. His machete lay the length of his forearm and Dean barely ducked, feeling the wind of it skim his hair. He circled, getting Gordon's back to Ellen's bloody "corpse."

"This isn't what I planned, Dean," Gordon's eyes were red-rimmed.

"No, you just figured I'd die." Dean shot back.

"Your eyes aren't glowing," Gordon hesitated. "You don't have fangs."

Ellen rolled smoothly to her feet and slammed her sheathed machete into the back of his neck. Gordon staggered. Dean slammed him against the support pillar, alternating cracking his elbow into Gordon's face and beating his forearm against the corner until he dropped the machete.

Gordon jabbed for Dean's eyes and shoved him backwards when he flinched. Dean braced for attack but Gordon turned and swung at Ellen. She dodged. Dean threw Gordon's machete through the open door above them.

"You let her go!" Gordon screamed in rage. "You let the fang go!"

"You bet your ass," Ellen laid a dancer's kick across his jaw. He staggered and grabbed Ellen's machete. He had the sheathe in one hand like a club and the blade in the other.

"You're crazy," he declared. "Both of you!"

"No, Gordy," Dean snarled. "We're not the ones who are crazy. You talked about having an empty, aching hole in you. Well, we've got that, Ellen and I. We've both lost everyone we loved and we didn't even kill them like you did your own sister."

"My God." Ellen looked startled.

"We've got that empty, hungry hole, Gordy, but we're not going to let it eat us!"

Gordon just shook his head and laughed. "So damn sanctimonious all of a sudden, Dean? You're full of shit. You've killed. I've watched you kill; I've seen you _enjoy_ the kill. In a few years that will be the only joy you find in anything. You're just like me."

"No, I'm not!" Dean had found the saw blade where he'd dropped it and kicked it into the air. Gordon batted it away with the machete. Ellen sprang in and jumped on his back. Dean grabbed Gordon's wrist and steered him head-first into the pillar. He hit with a ugly crunch. Ellen jumped off as he fell. She grabbed the machete and Dean snatched up the sheathe. Gordon lay still on the ground. Dean prodded him in the ribs with the toe of his boot.

"Come on," said Ellen. "Let's get out of here and call the cops."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean nodded. They climbed up the ladder and bundled it after themselves, slamming down the door. The sun was setting far too blood-red for Dean's tastes.

"Just let it be over," he breathed, not sure who or what might be listening. "Just let it be over."

They reached Ellen's "Jimmy" to find Lenore waiting.

"I couldn't leave without saying good-bye," she explained. "And thank you."

Ellen reached out her hand, a little hesitantly. Lenore gripped it with both of her own.

"You are strong and beautiful; I would welcome you into my family," she said sincerely.

"Thank you, dear, but I think I'll stay what I am for now," Ellen squeezed her hand. "But I'll keep it in mind if I'm looking for options."

Dean shifted from foot to foot, a little uncomfortable. Lenore turned to him with a mischievous smile.

"Dean," she stepped close. "My hero." She laid both hands on the sides of his face and pulled him into a kiss. He put his hands on her shoulders. His eyes popped open as he suddenly felt her fangs touch his lower lip. Faster than he could react, she nipped hard on the soft spot behind his jaw. He yelped and she flicked her tongue over his earlobe before she released him.

"I just couldn't leave without a _taste_," she teased and walked off laughing into the evening.

"Don't you look at me," Ellen sounded on the verge of laughter. "Even your Daddy never got into _that_ kind of trouble."

Dean belted on a clean pair of jeans in the miniscule hotel bathroom. The battered and bloody pair he had been wearing had been stashed in a trash can far from the alley where "a good citizen" had reported seeing escaped fugitive Gordon Walker. He had just finished showering and bandaging his legs and was coming to the narrow bed where Ellen was waiting to help him with his arms.

"Gordon certainly made a mess," Ellen tsked, working her way from the wrists up. Three slices below the elbow and two above on his right arm. His left arm had four below the elbow – the one closest to the elbow being the deepest and needed a butterfly closure but none above.

"He really wanted to drive Lenore to attack." Dean sighed.

"All done," Ellen disposed of the wrappers. "Get your shirt on and we'll get something to eat. . . Dean, you're shaking."

"I'm all right," Dean lied, but his hands were betraying him.

"Oh, Dean," Ellen sat back down and put her arms around him.

"Ellen, no, I. . ." He tried to push her away.

"Stop it," Ellen tightened her grip. "You stop it right now. You've been so quick to comfort me, comfort Bobby, comfort everyone else, but since you've lost John and Sam I haven't seen you once look for comfort for _yourself_."

"I. . . can't. . ." he sobbed.

"Oh, yes you can. You have to Dean – otherwise that ache, that hole you told Gordon about. It _will_ eat you up." A broken sound came from Dean's throat and he gripped her back. "That's right. Let it out."

They sat together on the bed, just hanging on.

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8 comments or Leave a comment
batina35 From: batina35 Date: January 14th, 2008 04:45 pm (UTC) (Link)
This was really good. Especially the end. Love Ellen comforting Dean. Those two really had chemistry (and I'm not talking about in a romantic way). I would love it if Ellen were more in the boys' life on the show.

Great job!
just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: January 14th, 2008 11:15 pm (UTC) (Link)
Thank you! I agree, Kripke said he brought in Ruby and Bela to have strong women characters in the show and my first reaction was "You've already got one!"

Check the story before this one "High Price on My Head" for more Ellen. I intend to make her a part of this series.
mayachain From: mayachain Date: January 15th, 2008 05:32 pm (UTC) (Link)
Hard to think I could like a universe where Sam is dead, but I did... a feat that could only be pulled of by really really great Dean/Ellen and Dean/Lenore interaction.

He almost broke character, but remembered that Gordon had tried to kill Sam; had made him feel so incredibly helpless tied to that chair and unable to scream a warning that he had nightmares about it until the Devil's Gate opened.
Poor Dean.

Ellen reached out her hand, a little hesitantly. Lenore gripped it with both of her own.
"You are strong and beautiful; I would welcome you into my family," she said sincerely.

Hee. They should team up.

- mayachain
just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: January 16th, 2008 02:38 am (UTC) (Link)
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Ellen and Lenore? Hmm, that's something to think about
mre_quecky From: mre_quecky Date: January 15th, 2008 06:57 pm (UTC) (Link)
Just got online and can finally comment...

so, yeah, I really liked it^^ I like Lenore, so, there you go ;D
just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: January 16th, 2008 02:39 am (UTC) (Link)
Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.
arliss From: arliss Date: January 18th, 2008 12:57 am (UTC) (Link)
Nice work. Good to see Dean and Ellen working together.
just_ruth From: just_ruth Date: January 18th, 2008 01:49 am (UTC) (Link)
Thank you! I think they work well together - stay tuned for the next installment. :)
8 comments or Leave a comment