Di Messi

The night is cold enough that your breath fogs the air as you walk through the empty field, the moon swollen and pale above you. Leaves crackle under your boots, and somewhere far off, a wind chime rattles against a porch.

Halloween night, and instead of candy or costumes, you’re chasing something with claws.

Dean walks a few paces ahead, shotgun in hand, muttering about how monsters always seem to pick holidays to make trouble. Sam follows beside you, face lit by the glow of his EMF reader, while Elijah—your vampire, your calm in the storm—moves silently beside you, the faintest smirk playing at his lips as Dean grumbles.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean mutters. “We could be at a bar. Or at least at a diner. Instead, we’re—what—ghost-hunting in a cornfield?”

“Technically, it’s not a ghost,” Sam corrects. “Witnesses said a creature with wings was spotted near here. But no one could agree if they were black or white.”

You sigh. “Maybe it’s just a big crow.”

Dean gives you a look. “Yeah, sure, Y/N. A crow that kidnaps livestock and leaves scorch marks in the dirt.”

Before you can retort, Elijah glances toward the tree line, his dark eyes narrowing. “We’re not alone.”

You trust that tone—quiet, certain, the sound of centuries of experience. You grip your knife and turn slowly. The woods are still, eerily still, until a faint sound breaks the silence.

A baby’s cry.

You freeze. Sam lowers the EMF, frowning. “That’s… not possible.”

Dean swears softly. “Okay, no. Not doing the creepy baby in the woods thing again.”

But you’re already moving toward the sound, instincts pulling you faster than logic can stop you. The cries lead you into a small clearing, where the moonlight spills over an old well. At its base, wrapped in torn cloth, lies a tiny infant.

You drop to your knees. The baby is alive—squirming, crying, little fists waving helplessly in the air. But as soon as your hands touch him, the world shifts. The air hums, faintly electric, and the smell of ozone tingles your senses.

You glance up at the others. “He’s… glowing.”

Sure enough, faint golden light pulses from the baby’s skin, like sunlight trapped beneath it. Elijah steps closer, his voice gentle. “This is no ordinary child.”

Dean raises a brow. “No kidding, Dracula.”

Elijah exhales softly. “Still with the nickname.”

“Still with the fangs,” Dean replies, but there’s no real bite in it.

You cradle the baby closer, and the glow dims, like he’s calming under your touch. “He’s warm,” you murmur. “Alive. But I don’t think he’s fully human.”

Sam crouches beside you, studying the sigils burned faintly into the cloth. “These look angelic. But distorted—like a curse twisted them.”

Elijah’s gaze lingers on the child. “Half human, half celestial… a hybrid not meant to exist.”

Your heart aches as you look down at the baby’s tiny face. “Then he’s just like the rest of us—something caught in the middle.”

A sudden rustle from the trees makes you lift your head. Dark shapes move between the branches—shadows too fluid to be human. Elijah is at your side in an instant, his hand resting lightly on your back. “We’re being hunted.”

Dean cocks his gun. “Great. Halloween babysitting duty.”

Sam pulls out an iron knife. “We need to move.”

You tuck the baby’s cloth tighter and rise, feeling Elijah’s cool hand steady your arm. “He’ll stand out if something sees the glow,” he warns.

Dean snorts. “Then we better find a way to hide it. You got any vampire magic for that, Fancy Pants?”

“Sadly, no,” Elijah replies smoothly, “but I believe your sister might have a human solution.”

It takes a second before you realize what he means—and then you remember the small town you passed, the one holding its Halloween festival. A parade, kids in costumes, parents in masks.

You smile faintly. “Actually… I think I do.”

An hour later, you’re standing in a thrift store lit by orange string lights, surrounded by racks of cheap costumes and fake cobwebs. The baby sits on the counter, now wrapped in a tiny pumpkin outfit that’s at least two sizes too big.

Dean stares at him, unimpressed. “We’re dressing a possibly celestial baby like a squash.”

“He’s adorable,” you say, brushing the baby’s cheek. “And no one will question a costume on Halloween.”

Sam chuckles softly. “It’s actually not a bad plan. The light’s hidden under the fabric. And if something’s looking for him, they’ll have to pick one pumpkin out of a few hundred kids.”

Elijah leans beside you, the corner of his mouth curving as he watches you adjust the costume. “You never cease to surprise me, Y/N.”

You glance up, warmth flooding your chest despite the tension of the night. “You doubted me?”

“Never,” he says quietly. “But I am reminded, often, why I admire you.”

Dean coughs pointedly. “All right, Romeo. Let’s not forget we’re still being hunted.”

Elijah’s lips twitch. “Of course. Though I must commend you, Dean. It takes courage to interrupt a vampire mid-sentence.”

“Yeah, well, courage or stupidity—depends who you ask,” Dean mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Okay, boys. Enough measuring egos. Let’s go before something finds us.”

The small town’s Halloween parade is in full swing by the time you return outside. Children in costumes flood the streets, their laughter mixing with music and the sweet smell of caramel corn. It’s a perfect cover.

You walk beside Elijah, the baby nestled against your chest. Sam and Dean flank you, their alert eyes scanning the crowd.

For a few blissful moments, it almost feels normal. Families, lights, laughter—all the things your life rarely allows. The baby makes a soft sound, reaching up toward one of the paper lanterns glowing above.

You smile. “You like that, huh?”

“He seems… peaceful,” Elijah murmurs beside you. His hand brushes your arm, the contact grounding. “Almost as if he knows he’s safe with you.”

You glance at him. “You think he is?”

“I know he is,” he says simply.

Before you can respond, the street lights flicker. The air shifts. The crowd’s laughter fades into confusion as shadows slither along the rooftops—dark, winged shapes circling above.

Dean curses under his breath. “We’ve got company.”

Sam looks up, eyes wide. “Those aren’t angels. They’re something else—twisted.”

The baby starts to cry, faint light seeping through his costume again. You tighten your grip, heart racing. Elijah’s voice turns low, calm, dangerous. “Stay close.”

The first creature dives from the sky, talons glinting. Elijah moves faster than your eyes can track, intercepting it midair and slamming it into the pavement with a crack. Dean fires rock salt at another, while Sam swings his knife, cutting through shadow like smoke.

You duck behind a parked car, cradling the baby as its glow flares brighter, the creatures screeching at the sight.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts. “Whatever that light is—make it stop!”

“I can’t!” you call back. “It’s not him—it’s the curse!”

Elijah appears at your side, his clothes splattered with ash. “They’re drawn to his grace. We must shield him.”

Before you can ask how, a familiar voice breaks through the chaos.

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

You look up—and there he is. Castiel, standing in the middle of the street, trench coat flapping in the wind, eyes glowing faintly blue.

Dean exhales in relief. “About damn time, Cas.”

Castiel steps closer, looking down at the baby with an unreadable expression. “I’ve been searching for him. His grace is unstable. If left unprotected, both Heaven and Hell would hunt him.”

You clutch the baby tighter. “So what do we do?”

“I’ll take him,” Castiel says softly. “There is a place safe even from Heaven’s eyes. He can grow, free from the curse’s pull.”

You hesitate. The thought of handing the baby over after fighting so hard to keep him safe makes your chest ache. But when you look down, you see the baby staring up at Castiel, reaching out with a tiny hand—as if he knows him.

Elijah touches your shoulder gently. “It’s all right, love. He’ll be safe.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Castiel steps forward, his expression almost tender as he lifts the baby into his arms. The golden light brightens once more, filling the air with warmth that feels like sunlight on your skin. The shadows retreat, fading like smoke on the wind.

When the light fades, the baby is calm again, asleep against Castiel’s chest.

Dean exhales. “Well… that was one hell of a Halloween.”

Sam rubs the back of his neck. “At least it ended without any of us dying this time.”

Castiel looks at you. “You did well. He survived because of you.”

You smile faintly. “Guess pumpkin costumes really do save lives.”

For a split second, you swear you see the hint of a smile tug at Castiel’s lips before he vanishes, baby and all, in a swirl of light.

Silence settles over the street again, broken only by the distant laughter of kids returning to their candy hunt.

Dean holsters his gun. “So. Pie before the next apocalypse?”

Sam shakes his head. “You never change.”

You turn to Elijah, who’s watching the now-empty sky, his profile softened by the streetlights. “You okay?”

He glances at you, and the faintest smile touches his lips. “I am, so long as you are.”

You reach for his hand, feeling the warmth of your own skin against his cool touch. “You saved him,” you say quietly. “You saved me.”

Elijah’s eyes meet yours, dark and steady. “You give me reason to.”

Dean groans. “Oh, great, here comes the brooding poetry again.”

You laugh, leaning against Elijah as the last of the tension drains from your body. “You love it, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but you catch the small grin he tries to hide.

As you all walk back toward the Impala, the sky clear and full of stars, you can’t help but look back once more, half-expecting to see a flicker of golden light in the distance.

You don’t. But somehow, you know the baby’s safe.

Two Weeks Later – The Bunker 

The sound of the heavy bunker door echoed through the halls, followed by your laugh—a light, genuine sound that hadn’t been heard in a long while.  

You stepped inside first, brushing loose hair from your face, a smear of dried blood on your shirt but a triumphant spark in your eyes.  

Elijah trailed behind you, stoic as ever, but his gaze never left you. He carried himself with calm grace, yet anyone watching could see his entire focus was you—making sure you were safe, whole, alive. 

Dean, seated in the library with a beer in hand, caught sight of the stain immediately. His stomach knotted. He was on his feet before either of you could pass through. 

“What the hell happened?” he barked, eyes zeroing in on the crimson on your shirt. 

But he cut you off, his glare snapping to Elijah. “And why the hell is he still here? What’s his game, huh? He saved you, fine, but that doesn’t mean he can set up camp in the bunker!” 

Your lips parted, ready to snap back, but Elijah’s hand lifted slightly—a calm, silent command. 

His composure didn’t falter as he turned his head just enough to meet your eyes. 

“Darling,” he said softly, though his voice left no room for argument, “can you leave us alone?.” 

You frowned, confused, about to protest. “Elijah—” 

“Please,” he pressed gently, yet firmly, his eyes holding yours until you reluctantly exhaled. 

With a last glance at your brother, you turned on your heel and headed toward your room, the tension in the air sharp enough to cut through. 

Only when your footsteps faded down the hall did Elijah square himself to Dean. “If you wish to speak about me,” he said, voice steady, “then speak to me.” 

Dean squared his shoulders. “Alright then. What’s your endgame? You don’t just hang around the Winchesters for fun. So why my sister?” 

Elijah studied him for a long moment before answering, measured and precise. “I will not insult you with evasions, Dean. I am here because I intend to marry your sister.” 

The words landed like a thunderclap. Dean scoffed, incredulous. “Marry her? Are you insane? She’s a hunter, not—” 

“Not yours to decide for,” Elijah cut in smoothly, his tone unyielding. “Whether I have your blessing or not, I will ask for her hand. But out of respect for her family, I came to you first.” 

Dean bristled. “You’re a vampire. That’s strike one. Strike two? You don’t belong in this life, Elijah. My sister already got enough to deal with—she doesn’t need someone dragging her into your mess.” 

Elijah’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained even. “On the contrary, Dean. Your sister has endured more than most hunters ever will, yet she continues. What she needs is not someone to pull her away, but someone who will stand beside her, to make certain she sleeps when she should, eats when she must, and remembers she is more than the battles she fights. That, I do willingly.” 

Dean faltered for a moment; his retort caught in his throat. Elijah pressed on. 

“You fear I will endanger her. In truth, Dean, I save her from herself. I do not ask you to trust me blindly. I ask you to see what I’ve done these last two weeks—not in words, but in action.” 

The room felt heavy with silence. Dean’s fists clenched, his mouth opening and closing as though searching for an argument strong enough to hold. None came. 

Elijah gave a slight nod, then turned toward the corridor. “Think on it, Dean. But understand—I will not step aside.” With that, he left, his footsteps fading into the distance. 

Dean stood rooted to the floor, jaw tight, staring after him. 

“Dean.” Sam’s voice came from behind. He’d clearly heard enough, his eyes narrowing in disapproval as he approached. “What the hell were you—” 

“I know,” Dean muttered, cutting him off, his voice low and resigned. He dropped back into his chair, rubbing his temple. “I don’t need the lecture, Sammy. Trust me—I know.” 

The quiet click of the door announced Elijah’s return. You were perched at the edge of your bed, freshly changed into a clean shirt, your nerves tight as bowstrings. The moment you saw him, you rose, worry etched on your face. 

“What happened?” you asked quickly, searching his expression. “What did Dean say?” 

Elijah’s gaze softened the moment it met yours, though his face remained composed as always. 

He closed the distance between you, one hand brushing gently along your arm. “Nothing you need to burden yourself with, darling.” 

Your frown deepened. “Elijah…” 

He shook his head slightly, silencing you before you could press further. “It would be wise to give your brother time. His instinct is to protect you. Mine is the same, though it manifests differently.” 

You exhaled, torn between relief and frustration at his cryptic calm. “So, you just… brushed it off?” 

A small smile tugged at his lips, though faint. “I said what needed to be said. Nothing more. Nothing less.” His thumb traced a reassuring line over your hand before he released it. “For now, I suggest we take a reprieve. A few hours away from these walls. Dean’s temper is a fire best left to cool.” 

You tilted your head, hesitant. “You mean—leave the bunker?” 

“Indeed,” Elijah replied smoothly. “A walk. A meal. Anything but another night buried beneath these stone ceilings. You have laughed today, and I’d see you laugh again—unburdened.” 

Despite yourself, your lips curved into a faint smile. His calm was steadying, grounding. “You always know how to make it sound so simple.” 

He inclined his head, a glimmer of warmth flickering in his dark eyes. “That is because, with you, it is.” 

You slipped your jacket back on, tension easing from your shoulders as you followed him out of the room. Whatever storm Dean was wrestling with could wait. For now, Elijah was right—some air, some distance, was exactly what you needed. 

The night air was cool against your skin as you and Elijah walked down the quiet street. It wasn’t a hunt, wasn’t a mission—just the two of you slipping away from the bunker’s weight. The town was small, with little more than a diner still open, neon lights flickering lazily above the windows. 

You slid into a booth, the leather creaking beneath you. For once, the world felt… normal. Elijah sat across from you, posture perfect, yet his eyes softened every time they landed on you. 

“Strange,” you muttered, fiddling with the menu. 

Elijah raised a brow. “What is?” 

“Being here. Just… eating at some small-town diner like its date night or something.” You gave a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Feels like playing house.” 

Elijah’s lips curved faintly, though his gaze never wavered. “And if it were?” 

The question stilled you. You glanced up, finding his dark eyes steady, unflinching, as though the answer mattered more than you realized. 

Your heart skipped. “Then… I guess I wouldn’t mind.” 

The waitress came and went, leaving two mugs of coffee and your orders, but neither of you touched them. The tension between you had shifted, warmer now, heavier in a way that made your pulse race. 

Elijah finally leaned forward, his voice low, meant only for you. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” 

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” 

“A woman who has fought more battles than most could endure. Who laughs despite the weight she carries. Who terrifies me, not because of what you are—but because of how much I would lose if I ever failed to protect you.” His hand reached across the table, fingers brushing over yours. “That, darling, is what I see.” 

The air left your lungs in a soft rush. For once, words failed you. You turned your hand, threading your fingers with his, the contact grounding and electrifying all at once. 

“Elijah…” you whispered, but he shook his head, his thumb stroking lightly over your knuckles. 

“Do not answer now,” he murmured, leaning closer, his forehead almost touching yours across the table. “Just… allow yourself to feel. For once.” 

And you did. You let yourself fall into the moment—the warmth of his hand, the weight of his gaze, the way the world outside that booth seemed to vanish. 

When his lips brushed yours—gentle at first, then firmer, deliberate—it felt less like a beginning and more like something inevitable. 

When he pulled back, his voice was hushed, reverent. “You deserve more than battles, darling.” 

Your chest tightened, not with fear this time, but with something deeper, something you hadn’t let yourself hope for in a long time. 

And for the first time in weeks, you smiled—freely, without weight. 

The heavy bunker door groaned open again when you and Elijah returned. Your cheeks still carried the faint warmth of laughter, your hand brushing his sleeve as if the simple touch grounded you. The moment you stepped into the map room, however, the mood shifted. 

Sam and Dean were both waiting. Sam leaned casually against the table, arms crossed, watching with a look that was half-curiosity, half-resignation. Dean, on the other hand, stood stiff, his beer untouched beside him, eyes sharp as they locked on Elijah. 

“Y/N,” Dean said evenly, “can you give us a minute?” 

You frowned, glancing between them, but Elijah gave you that same steady look he always did when he wanted you to trust him. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Fine. But don’t take too long.” With that, you disappeared down the hall, the echo of your footsteps fading into silence. 

Dean didn’t waste a second. “Listen, Elijah,” he started, jaw tight. “All my life, it’s been my job to look out for my sister and little brother. Taking care of them—that’s on me. Always has been. And I don’t know how to share that responsibility with anyone.” His voice cracked with raw honesty, his hands clenching at his sides. “Especially not with a vampire.” 

Elijah inclined his head slightly, accepting the words without flinching. “Your devotion is admirable, Dean. I would expect no less from you. But I assure you, my intentions are not to take your place.” 

Dean huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Well, you kinda are.” He took a step closer, eyes burning into Elijah’s. “You said you plan to marry her. That’s not a small thing. If she says yes—” 

“When she says yes,” Elijah corrected softly, though his tone carried no arrogance, only conviction. 

Dean bristled, but before he could bite back, Sam finally pushed off the table and stepped forward. “Dean’s right about one thing. She’s our sister. She’s been through hell and back, and we’ve always been the ones to keep her standing.” Sam’s gaze steadied on Elijah, calmer than Dean’s but no less protective. “But we’ve also seen what you’ve done these past two weeks. You’ve taken care of her when she wouldn’t take care of herself. You’ve made her laugh. That… means something.” 

Dean exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his mouth. “So, here’s the deal. If she says yes, we’ll respect it. We’ll give our blessing. Hell—” his lips twisted into the faintest smirk, “we might even toast to it.” 

“But” Sam added firmly, “that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. We’ll still give you hell from time to time. Brother-in-law privileges don’t come easy.” 

Dean’s eyes hardened again as he pointed a finger at Elijah. “And if anything happens to her—anything—because of you. No Original family name, no vampire speed, nothing on this earth will save you from us.” 

Elijah met their words with calm certainty, his posture as unshaken as ever. “I would expect nothing less. But know this—I will guard her life with my own. Always.” 

The brothers exchanged a look, one of silent agreement. For the first time, the tension eased. Not gone, not forgotten—but shifted. 

Dean grabbed his beer and finally took a long swig. “Fine. We’ll see how long you last under Winchester pressure.” 

Sam chuckled under his breath. “Better get used to it.” 

Elijah’s lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile. “Then I look forward to the challenge.” 

The next day – The Bunker 

The day passed with unusual calm. No hunts, no phone calls from Bobby, no urgent research. 

For once, the bunker felt like it belonged to you all — a strange, quiet sort of home. 

After dinner, Elijah found you in the library, curled up in one of the leather chairs with a book in your lap. The warm lamp glow softened the sharp edges of the room, casting a gentle light across your face. 

“You’re far too beautiful to be hidden behind dusty lore,” Elijah murmured as he approached. 

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You know flattery doesn’t work on me, right?” 

“Then allow me to be honest instead.” He offered his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you slipped yours into his. He guided you up and out of the chair, leading you not toward your room but to the war room, where the map table sat dark, only a few scattered lamps burning. 

The space was quiet, private. Elijah stopped, turning to face you. For once, his composure carried a nervous undertone, subtle but real. 

“Elijah?” you asked softly, brows furrowing. 

He reached into his jacket, pulling free the small velvet box he had carried close for days. Your breath caught as he lowered himself gracefully to one knee before you. 

“Darling,” he began, his voice steady though his eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, “my life has been long, filled with wars, betrayals, and countless mistakes. I did not expect, nor did I deserve, the light you brought into it.” He opened the box, revealing the ring — a timeless band set with a single, brilliant stone. Elegant. Enduring. Like him. 

“I cannot promise you peace,” he continued, gaze locked with yours. “But I can promise my loyalty, my protection, my love — for all the days you will have me. Y/N, will you marry me?” 

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes wide, tears stinging before you could stop them. “Elijah…” you whispered, voice trembling. 

He waited patiently, as he always did, the ring steady in his hand, his devotion written plainly across his face. 

“Yes,” you breathed, the word breaking free before you could even think. Louder this time, steadier: “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Relief and warmth spread across his features, a rare, genuine smile curving his lips as he slid the ring onto your finger. He rose smoothly, drawing you into his arms and kissing you — tender, reverent, filled with the promise of forever. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling through tears, you leaned your forehead against his. “Dean and Sam are going to lose their minds.” 

Elijah chuckled softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Then let us give them the good news together. I’ve already… had words with them.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait. You—?!” 

You crumble next to a tree, your right-hand applying pressure on your bloody open wound. “Damned” you curse watching the blood staring to spread on your t-shirt.  

Leaning your head on the tree for support, you could see the clear sky adorned by stars, what a beautiful night to end up dying, you thought, well at least the constant sadness and emptiness settle on your heart would disappear and you would finally rest, although it will be forever.  

You could hear the footsteps on the dry leaves from both sides getting closer and closer “shit” you cursed, getting up, the tree as your support, taking a deep breath and trying to concentrate to find where the attack would be first “right” you mentioned, raising your gun and pointing that direction.   

“It’s impressive how far you could go with that wound” the ghoul in human form announces appearing on the other side, making you turn abruptly, whining at the sudden movement, pointing the gun at him. “I'm a Winchester after all” you replied proudly trying to ignore the buzz in your ears and blurred look. 

“Oh, I'm aware of it” starting to walk in your direction, a macabre smile on his lips “soon you will stop being one”  

Aiming your gun at him, but failing due your blurred gaze, you knew even you end up killing him, the other ghoul, that isn't too far away would reach you and kill you, lowering your gun and glancing to the sky, forgetting the ghoul in front of you “how I like to see you just one more time”  

Splashes reached your face, getting it wet, making you look in front of you, just in time to see the ghoul’s head drop along his body, reveling a human form “what the hell?” you whisper before fainting. 

Stopping the engine of your car, you release a sigh resting your head on the seat. “Let’s get this over with” you voice worn out.  

“Oh, you’re back” Sam exclaims, excited while watching you descend the stairs of the bunker.  

“Don’t get too excited Sammy” you warm him “just staying until Bobby calls back with a new assignment” you mention once you were close by. 

“Oh” he let out sad “how was your last hunting?” he inquiry, concern.  

“Same as always” passing him by in direction to your room, not giving him much attention or time to chat. “Search, hunt and kill, just to do it all over again” 

“Sis, I’m worry about you” he declared in a tone that make you stop suddenly.  

A sigh left your mouth, turning around to see him, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes, trying to calm him, after all he was your baby brother “I’m fine Sammy, don’t worry” you state before continuing your way. 

“She just needs a shower, food and a good night of sleep” Dean bring up, while patting his shoulder.  

“I hope you’re right Dean” his gaze fix where you disappear “or she could end hurting herself badly”  

Dropping your duffel bag at the edge of the bed, while at the same time falling face down on it “shit” cursing almost immediately once laying down. 

Standing up, in direction of your bathroom, the reflection on the mirror stopped you from examining your abdomen wound, dark circles under your eyes, pale skin, cuts and bruises where your clothes allowed to see.  

Lowering your head with eyes closed, good reason for Sam concerns, how could you be so reckless? Your mind drifting to New Orleans and to him. 

The ring of your phone distracts you, answering as a reflect, “Hi Bobby, what do you have for me?”  

Giving one last glance to your bedroom, you could notice all the difference between here and your bedroom back in New Orleans, all kind of books scattered around on both rooms, messy bed instead a neat one, closed and dusty smell instead of his, like sandalwood and rum spice. A scent you swear you could smell.  

Denying with your head before passing your duffel bag over your shoulder, starting your way to the garage, trying at all cost to avoid any of your brothers. 

“Y/N” Sam call your name, your hand on the garage knob.  

“Almost” you whisper before turning around, forcing a smile for your own good “Bobby call, a possible Wendigo in Oklahoma” you state.  

“Castiel is on his way, you could rest while he arrives to cure you” he suggests “if we explain Bobby, he will understand, he can assign another hunter” he offers coming closer to you.  

“I can't Sam” making him stop confuse, looking at you waiting for an explanation. You sigh defeated “hunting it's the only thing that keeps me sane” you reveal to him.  

“If this is about New Orleans, you know you can talk to me” he affirms and offer.  

“Yeah” you respond in a low voice, turning around “there’s nothing to talk about” you declared before leaving.  

A familiar scent reaches your nostrils, blinking several times to adjust your eyes to the bright light, some pieces of memory returning, causing you to a seated position abruptly.  

“You’re finally awake” the soft but firm voice express, setting your glance on him.  

“Elijah” you pronounce “what are you doing here?” question him but didn't allow him to finish “Don't get me wrong without you I would be probably dead,” you stop and start looking around “shit! I need to call my brothers; Dean will kill me” you express trying to stand up from bed. 

His hand on your shoulder, stopping you from standing “Calm down” giving you a glass of water “I came for you” turning away from you “they’re here”  

“Y/N!” Sam shout as soon he enters, reaching your side while Dean stand behind watching Elijah. 

“I would leave you alone” he said, with his glance fix in you.  

“Elijah!” you exclaim trying to stand reach him.  

He was next to you in an instant, thanks to his vamp speed, his right hand on your back and his left one on yours “I won't go anywhere” he assures you “I would get another room” caressing your hand before leaving you, Dean glance follow him.  

“So, that was Elijah” Sam state more than question, watching you nod.  

“What the hell is he doing here? With you on a hotel room?” Dean inquired, crossing his arms over his chest waiting for you to answer.  

“He’s the reason why I’m alive, Dean” taking a deep breath, remembering the events “I keep screwing up things,” Sam squeezing your hand, encourage you to continue “there where 2 ghouls instead one, I was able to kill one but I end up several injured, I was chase thought the forest, was about to kill me when Elijah appear”  

“Killing the ghoul and saving you” Sam finish for you “where were you hurt?” lifting your right side of your blouse “there’s nothing here”  

“How?” Dean exclaimed, inspecting where the wound used to be. 

“Vampire blood” you spilled out of your mouth without thinking, to then look to their confused faces “has healing qualities” you stop, taking a sip of the water glass to then continue “but if you die with it in your system, you begin the transition to vampire”  

Before Dean could start a fight, a knock on the door was listen, before Elijah enter the room “my apologies for the interruption, the vampire blood is almost out of her system and there’s nothing to worry about it” he explains approaching Sam, providing a key “you should settle down while your sister rest” he announces.  

“Oh sure, thanks” Sam answer before giving you one last squeeze in your hand “try to rest” glancing at Dean.  

Dean’s gaze changed between you and Elijah, a resigned sigh “Get some sleep kiddo” he orders before leaving the room.  

Elijah starts to walk to the room door, “stay” you shout while his hand settles on the knob. He didn't say anything, just took off his suit jacket and vest, leaving it on a chair to then walk to your side and lay down, he passes his hand under your head, making you use it as pillow, your head set on the crook of his arm. 

“How are you feeling?” he questions you, starting to caress your head.  

“A little tired and sore” answering in automatic, your mind in other things. 

“What is in your mind, darling?” moving to his side to see you.  

You lift your head to see him, your gazes crossing “Too many questions and no answers at all”  

He smiles “I would answer 3 of those questions” kissing your forehead “think wisely darling” he advice you.  

You nod, thinking your questions, after a few minutes “How did you find me?” you finally question him. 

“My sisters, Freya along Rebekah did a locator spell to find you” he expresses “they miss you”  

You open your mouth “they miss me?” you state without thinking.  

“Are you sure you want to use your question?” he questions you, looking you denied of his question and stay quiet for a few minutes.  

“Why are you here?” you whisper, not sure enough to listen the answer.  

“For you,” he declares “it seems you have you have caused a quit impression in all of my siblings, even Klaus express he don't have anyone to fight” he then presses his forehead in yours, a few inches away your face “to be true I’m smitten with you” he finally admits. 

Placing you hand over his cheek “what this means to us?” closing your eyes, knowing the answer of this question could change everything.