What is there left living for? Everyone Dean loves is dead, but then she comes into his life and everything changes in a heartbeat. Crys has suffered heartache too and doesn't know whether she can ...
Life as he'd known it, had been drained out of him that cloudy night. As the rain poured down on the windshield of his black Chevy Impala, he remembered supporting his brother's head as he took that last breath. The blood stained clothes had been burned, along with the werewolf, that had taken his dear brother's life. Dean Winchester had never had anything but his family, and after Sam's death, he had even lost that. Now, he just drives around in his classic car, looking for rogue hunts, always stopping in Palo Alto, California to visit his brother, who had been buried directly beside his girlfriend, who had been killed by the demon that also slain his mother. Every once and a while he would stop in a hunter's bar that was often visited by people like him, who hunted the supernatural.
Ellen, the bar's owner, had given him sympathy after Sam's death, and so had her daughter Jo, who had more than once made it known that she was interested in Dean. Every time she threw herself at him, he politely rejected, not being in the mood for a woman to complicate his life any further. Dean knew he was a stud and before Sam died, he'd used that to his advantage by stopping in random bars and clubs picking up women, lying to them about his occupation, and then getting into their pants before making a hasty getaway the next morning. Sam looked down upon this behavior, which is probably why Dean now had his regrets. After a long drive and a short visit to Sam's gravesite, Dean had found no demons, or vengeful spirits to take his frustration out on, so he decided to go and stop in on Ellen's bar to see if they had any ideas as to where there might be a demon problem that needed taking care of. As Dean pulled into the dirt lot, he started wishing he had just called.
As soon as he pulled up, he knew that Jo was standing right in front of bar, puffing on a cigarette trying to make herself look older, when really all it did was make her look like a dirty redneck with an apron. Her jeans were faded and torn, as if they were meant to look rugged. For years she had been trying to show her mother that she was old enough to hunt, just like her father did, but Ellen had, in fear of suffering what she had already gone through with her husband, refused to let her go. Jo threw her cigarette on the ground and put it out with her fake leather boots and headed towards the car. Even after all the men that had come through this bar wanting more than friendship from her, Dean was still unwilling to budge, but she wouldn't let a few rejections stop her. If it took her forever, Dean Winchester would be hers.
She strolled over to the drivers-side window and leaned into the car, letting her risquÃ© blouse show that her breasts were just as perky as usual, and said, "Heya there Dean. It's been a while, since you've blown through these parts. How've ya been?"
"Same as usual Jo. And you?" Dean managed, straining as hard as he could to be polite in this grim time. Her mother was sick (had been sick since he met her) and Jo had, of course, looked to Dean for her own special form of comforting.
"Dealing with everything. Mom's on some new medication, but she's still as stubborn as ever and won't keep off her feet," her face turned sullen. "Oh Dean, I'm so worried and I just don't know what to do anymore." A few forced tears fell down her cheeks and Dean ignored them once again.
"Look Jo, I'd love to stay and bask in your little pity party, but I need a rather large drink right about now," he said pushing the door open, causing her to jump back as if she was expecting this to happen.
As he walked away from her and towards the doors to the bar, he felt a smack on his rear and turned to see Jo standing there with a smirk on her face. With a deep sigh, he headed in the doors and saw the familiar sight of dusty, old, oak bar. The windows were boarded so little light was allowed to creep into the windows and cobwebs hung in the corners of the room. Tables and chairs were sloppily unorganized on the left side of the room while the serving bar was on the right. Next to the bar, stood Ash, who as much as he bothered him, Dean actually liked. He was full of himself and his horribly out-of-date mullet was a real eyesore, but he was damn smart and helped keep Dean's life interesting, compared to the monotonous hours he spent on the road staring out at the endless miles of black asphalt. As if he was reading Dean's mind, Ash grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the top shelf behind the counter with a couple of glasses. Since Sam had died, Dean had taken a rather unhealthy liking into alcohol.
Ash started to talk, "So Dean, I've been tracking that demon still and something-"
"No demons for a while Ash," he paused and then after a second he went on. "After Dad died, all I wanted was revenge. It's all I could think about, and look where that got me. Now Sam's dead because I was too god damn reckless!" He took a huge gulp of the whiskey that Ash had poured him and let it burn his throat; the pain helped him remember that he was still here and that his job wasn't and would never be finished. "I'm just gonna take a little break and then go back to doing what I do best. Killin' every demon son-of-a-bitch that crosses my path." Ash nodded and gave his approval.
They clinked glasses and each took another swig. The room was fairly busy than Dean was used to, but faintly recognized some of the faces that sat around the tables or played pool in the back room. None of them were friendly enough to want to go and strike up a jolly conversation, but they were good hunters and Dean would feel safe to work with anyone of them, although they should have separate feelings towards him. Dean felt cursed, anyone he loved around him got hurt, anyone he felt like he could actually care for, died, so Dean kept his feelings hidden and never liked to start any long lasting friendship, because in the end they just caused pain. All of the people in the room were men except for Jo, who had just re-entered carrying a case of beer in her arms. Normally, he would flatter a woman who looked like that and carry the case for her, but after seeing all her pathetic attempts to get him into her pants, Dean saw that she was nothing but a desperate little girl, who had yet to experience the real world and couldn't help but think of himself when he would hit-on unfamiliar bartenders in random locations. After finishing his glass of whiskey and making Jo, poor him another one, he felt like it was time to get back to work and go talk to Ellen.
"Hey Jo, I know she's probably not up to it, but I really need to talk to your mom. Can she spare a couple minutes?" He asked putting on the old charm to get what he wanted.
"For you Dean? Of course," she smiled running into the back door to speak with her mother. When she emerged she had an empty glass and waved Dean through.
The room he entered was almost void of light. He could faintly make out a bed in the far left corner, and a desk on the opposite end. There was a dresser, tucked neatly in the corner to his right. A light came on, nearly blinding him and he laughed noticing how the obvious difference in how well kept this room was compared to the outside bar. Not one spec of dust could be found in this room and it was almost sad, how joyful the room was in this the darkest of times. Ellen was lying down in the bed and struggled to pull herself up. Dean went over to help her, but she shoved him away.
"I can do it myself," she stubbornly said leaning herself against the bedpost. Her hair was messily pulled back, and her skin was ghostly pale. She looked like she'd had the life sucked straight out of her and Dean felt like he was going to lose another person he cared about. "Well, what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Oh," Dean said snapping out of his negative thoughts. "I haven't found anything, anywhere lately. I've searched newspapers, internet sources, obituaries, in every state, and yet there seems to be nothing odd going on at all. It's like everything supernatural in the world just came to a halt." He sat at a chair next to the desk and waited for Ellen's reply.
"I noticed the same thing. Or rather Ash did. I'm surprised he didn't tell you when you came in. I heard your car pull up almost an hour ago," she coughed, grabbing a glass of water from her end table and sipping it slowly.
"Yeah, he was about to, but I just needed a little rest before I wanted to talk about any demons," he said, not telling her the whole truth. She didn't like him drinking because he had a tendency to get even ruder when he drank too much. He shut himself out from the world, more than usual, and refused to admit that he was human. At his worst moments of drinking he was ready to kill himself, and at his best he was ready to kill everyone else. They both knew how he got, so Dean avoided drinking...in front of Ellen.
"Well, we can't explain how all the activity just disappeared, but we do know that it has something to do with the yellow-eyed demon," said Ellen grabbing a folded piece of paper from next to the glass.
"How do you figure?" he said intrigued. She unfolded the paper into a huge map that covered half of the bed.
"Right before everything stopped, there were several different places that fit the description of the demon's hotspots," she explained pointing to the map. Dean walked over to her and stared down at the butcher paper with about a dozen bold, red spots in random spots of the country. "In all of these areas at once, there were severe electrical storms, blah blah blah and..." her face grew dark at this point. "at the epicenter of every area, there was a house with a house fire that killed at least one person, who was always the mother." His eyes grew wide.
"All at once? But that's impossible; the demon can't be in-" he fell silent counting the dots on the paper. "15 places at once!"
"We don't know that Dean. You've encountered this demon how many times before? 3? And one of those times you weren't even old enough to comprehend true evil!" she stopped talking and sniffed the air steadily. Dean shut his mouth, knowing what she was about to say. "I smell whiskey. Have you been drinking Dean?"
"Of course not. You must just be smelling it from the bar," he lied horribly trying to keep a straight face.
"Boy don't you lie to me! Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I won't get up out of this bed and whip your ass before you'd have time to even blink!" she yelled and Dean flinched. The one thing he refused to admit was that he was afraid of Ellen, but that's exactly what the truth was. She was the closest thing he had to a mother figure and he was more scared of her than he was of any demon he'd come face to face with.
Within her arm's reach, she'd managed to give him one good smack on the arm that sent Dean flying back in fear of another. She gave a short laugh, knowing full well what he thought of her.
"Now I told you what I know. Go on and let me rest," she said folding the map up and handing it to Dean, then pulling the covers up next to her head. He walked out of the room without another word, and followed to short hallway until he entered the open room once again. Everything was just as he'd left it, with the exception that someone new was walking into the bar.
A woman, who couldn't be but a couple years younger than himself, was capturing attention rapidly. She had shoulder-length brown hair, cut into layers all around her head, that swayed in with the air that was fighting to get into the bar. Her blue jeans were tight against her curvy form showing off her round butt. Her shirt showed just enough to turn every head in the building. Tasteful; not slutty. The blood red top clung to her body accentuating her round breasts. The faded, black leather jacket she had on was frayed in random locations and Dean swore he saw a bite mark on the left shoulder. She surveyed the room quickly and her eyes landed on Jo who stood behind the bar, cleaning the counter, obviously not realizing someone had walked in. He didn't understand how someone could miss someone who looked like her. Jo threw the rag over her shoulder and the woman cleared her throat. Jo looked up and her eyes went wide.
"Oh my God! Crys! Your back! After I didn't hear form you, I got so worried!" Jo screamed running towards the girl, with her arms spread wide. They embraced each other and Jo stroked her hair. "With what happened to Robert, I just didn't know-"
"I'm fine Jo," Crys had interrupted. "No need to think about bad memories from...before." She had breathed this quietly and Dean had to strain to hear her.
"Well?" Jo asked frustrated.
Crys looked confused, "Well what?"
"Are you gonna tell me, what happened?"
"Tell you what," she paused. "You get me a nice sized glass of whiskey, and I'll tell you whatever you wanna hear!" she finished winking at some old pervert who was staring rather intently at her ass.
Jo led her over to the counter near Dean. Dean had sat down during their little heart to heart and was trying to go about his business and drink his whiskey, like usual, but for some reason this girl had caught his attention, which no girl had done for a very long time. Crys sat down about two seats away from him and took her jacket off. While admiring her lean body, Dean looked up and noticed that she had caught his eyes. He turned his attention back to his drink rather embarrassed. She put a smirk on her face and then turned her gaze back to Jo.
A whiskey girl. Not bad. Thought Dean as Jo poured a glass.
"I had the son of a bitch practically cornered. I'd traced the damn shape-shifter to Littleton, Missouri and then...nothing," the smile was no longer on Crys's face as she explained.
"What do you mean nothing?" Jo asked grabbing herself a beer.
"Come on Jo, just 'cause your blonde and a hick, doesn't mean your that stupid," Crys said in a very serious tone. Impressed by how she managed to get Jo to shut up and listen without even a single comeback to the blatant insult, he held back a laugh. "Exactly what it sounds like. All of the sudden, no more trace. Everything sign the thing had ever existed was gone. I can't explain it, but I was pissed. I had been this close Jo, " she said spreading her thumb and index finger apart into a gap. "I almost had it. I almost got my revenge."
"Revenge isn't always the right way to go about things," Dean found himself interrupting.
"Excuse me, but do I know you?" she asked rudely, turning her body towards him. "And what the hell would you know about revenge?"
"The name's Dean Winchester," he introduced offering his hand out, almost nervous to feel her skin against his. She put her hand in his and Dean felt her soft skin.
"Crys Parsons...Winchester? Where have I- Oh. Wait, your not John's son Dean are you?" she asked looking towards the ground almost with a shamed look on her face.
"I was yeah," he answered in a low voice. "You knew him?"
"Knew him? He was like a father to me, seeing as the bastard God gave me, left my mom before I was old enough talk," she said sincerely. "Hunted with him a few times too. He showed me a couple tricks and I'd be lying if I said that they didn't save my life. I'm sorry for speaking to you like that. I didn't know who you were. I've just had a rough couple of years." In her pocket there was a pack of cigarettes, which amazed Dean after seeing how tight her pants were, that she slipped a single stem out of and lit. The smoke filled his nostrils making him wish he'd never quit. Sam has always said it was a bad habit, so Dean felt forced to heed his brother's advice and stopped cold turkey, but when she offered one to him, it was almost impossible to refuse. He took a few long drags on the cigarette, making it really worth it. "I'm sorry about what happened to him...and Sam," she added.
"It happens. Revenge makes it happen. When you're too focused on the goal, people get hurt. Mostly those around you," Dean explained.
"That's deep baby," Jo said taking his hand roughly. She was trying to look sentimental, but it was too forced. Until she'd spoken up, Dean had forgotten she was here and pulled his hand away from hers, ignoring her absurdly heartfelt statement.
"Well, then it's a good thing I travel by myself," she said finishing her whiskey and tapping the table, signaling Jo to get some more.
"Bottle's empty," she said holding it up, then throwing it in the garbage can next to her.
"Jo, could you please get some more? After the week, I've had I just need to get drunk, screw somebody, and go to bed," she said laughing. Dean was shocked and excited by how open she was. Even if she was only joking, she obviously was comfortable with herself. Girls like this drove Dean crazy.
Jo obviously didn't want to exit the conversation, or leave Crys and Dean alone together, but not being able to think of any objections, she walked out the door to go to the shed around the back of the property.
"You hunt alone?" Dean asked surprised.
"Yes. You gotta problem with that Winchester?" she laughed taking a drag off the cigarette.
Dean didn't know how to respond. He had never met a woman who hunted, let alone one who hunted alone. "Well, it's just...I mean...I don't mean to be rude, but-"
"I'm a girl," she finished his sentence for him. He nodded shyly and was almost afraid that she would smack him. Instead she just threw her head back and snorted with laughter.
Dean didn't know why but he had to suppress his own laughs. "What's so funny?"
The laughter brought tears rolling down her face. "It's just that the guy I was engaged to, Robert, said the exact same thing to me before we started dating and he refused to let me hunt alone from that day forward," then her joyous cries stopped and Dean couldn't tell, but he thought she was actually crying at this point. "He went on every hunt with me and it wasn't even a year before he asked me to marry him. I told him it was ridiculous and that it wouldn't work, but I said yes anyways. About 9 months ago, a shape-shifter he was hunting got the upper hand when he was looking out for my safety. I couldn't save him," this time sure it was real tears crawling down her cheeks, he stared down at the ground, probably at the same spot she had focused her eyes to. "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry!" she said grabbing a napkin off the table and wiping under her eyes. "I wasn't meaning to lay all this on you and cry like some baby. See? I'm the reason why men don't think women can hunt! Because then they think all we do is cry."
"Hey, don't worry about it. If you hunt by yourself, more power to you, but I'm advising you to hunt with someone," he said
"Why because I'm a girl?"
"No, because it's better to have someone watching your back while you watch your front," he said trying to be a serious as possible, but he accidentally glanced down at her chest on the word "front." They both burst into laughs as Crys noticed where his eyes had wandered.
"Ya know, John was lucky to have a son like you. You are a great person," she said placing her hand on his gently. He turned his hand around and grabbed hers carefully, showing his obvious interest. They both smiled at each other. As if an electric shock had traveled through their hands, they both hurriedly pulled away from each other, but before they were fully separated Jo walked through the door with a case of whiskey. "Hey glad your back. I was needing another drink."
"Yea I'll bet you did," she said sarcastically with jealousy written all over her pale face.
After making some more awkward small talk, now with Jo keeping a close watch over the two of them, and a few more glasses of whiskey on Crys's part, Dean realized that he was having to force himself not to hit on her. He really wanted nothing more than to just take her to his hotel room, and bang her until she passed out, but at the same time he couldn't bear the thought of just leaving her before morning came. Surprisingly, he had actually connected with her on more of an emotional level and he didn't want to do anything to risk losing someone that he may be able to become friends with. That included a one-night stand. A relationship was unthinkable. Dean's most sentimental relationship had been in the girl's apartment rather than just some random, cheap hotel at the side of the road and even that was a little too deep for him. After the amount of liquor Crys had drank, Dean was surprised that she was still walking and talking, but when she was ready to get up on the bar and do a strip tease, that's when Dean decided to have her cut off.
"Ummm, Crys? Maybe it's time to go back to your hotel and lie down for a little while," Dean suggested helping her sit back on the barstool.
"Maybe yur r-right," she slurred standing. "It was a plashure, plezure...It was good meeting ya!" She laughed taking his hand and shaking it. Dean smiled at her drunkenness and watched as she made her first attempt to stand up. After her first failure, she fell back into her seat and tried once more. Dean couldn't take it after her 5th attempt and had to stop laughing to help her. He grabbed her hand to help her stand and continued holding it after he saw the glare that Jo was giving him fro across the room. Halfway across the room, Crys attempted to scrounge through her jacket, but in the process lost her balance and fell. Dean caught her before she went far and he felt her weight pressing against his body. Half of him wanted to rip off her clothes right there and take her, but the better half just let her lean against him as he continued to escort her out the door.
"Crys, you shouldn't be riding that bike in your condition. At least let me take you to the hotel until your sober. Then you can call and we'll come get your bike," Jo said obviously uncomfortable with how close Dean and Crys were.
"Bike?" Dean asked curious.
"Oh, she drives this dreadful motorcycle everywhere. I keep telling her that she'll kill herself one day, but she refuses to give it up because it was Robert's," Jo said giving flirty eyes to him.
"You know what?" Crys started grabbing a nearby empty beer bottle. "Fuck you Jo! You have no right to talk about Robert at all. The only reason you even are nice to me is because you regret trying to get into his pants the night he died!" With great force, the beer bottle flew across the room towards Jo, but, in Dean's opinion, it was a good thing that she was drunk, because if she had hit her where she meant to it would've knocked her out cold, no question.
"Maybe you driving her isn't the best idea Jo. I'm heading out anyways, so I'll just take her," Dean said suppressing a laugh. Jo was fuming and stomped to the counter to grab something to clean up the mess that Crys had made. "Come on Crys. I'll take you home."
"Yay..." she giggled looking more sober than she had in an hour, and the problem was that the tone wasn't sarcastic. She looked into his eyes and spoke almost like she meant it. Dean looked away and helped her out the door.
The struggle got more difficult the farther they moved, and getting a little anxious to get her body off of his, he lifted her up, bridal style, and walked her straight to the car. At first, Crys's face registered shock. Dean thought that she'd just burst into more fits of giggles, but once again she gave him a very meaningful stare that made Dean curious. Was it the alcohol's actions or would the real Crys respond this way? She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her to the passenger side. Getting too comfortable with the feeling of her breath on his neck, he set her down and leaned her against the car to get the door open. While struggling to keep her balance, she stroked Dean's cheek gently and he pulled away trying not to be rude. It bothered him that he enjoyed her small touches more than the feeling of her whole body against him. The skin-to-skin contact was so personal, but Dean didn't mind. That was what worried him.
They had already been on the road for 15 minutes in a random direction, when he realized that he had no idea where he was going. No buildings were nearby and Dean was going in to opposite direction of the hotel he was staying at. "Hey Crys, where are you staying?" he finally asked. She was sitting up straight and resting her head on her arm as if she was just bored and not drunk.
"Oh shoot. I didn't get a hotel room. I was going to stay at the Rocky Hills Inn a few miles from Ellen's place, but I never got the room," Crys said snapping out of her daze.
Dean noticed that it was almost as if she hadn't had anything to drink at all. Not only was her posture better, but she was no longer slurring her speech and even little things like the way she looked outside the car window were different than an intoxicated person acted. "Well, I'm staying there anyways. We can just go get you a room then," he responded suspiciously.
"Ok," said slumping over and leaning her head against the door. Without another word, Dean flipped a U-turn and headed towards the motel. They kept the rest of the drive silent and every once and a while he'd sneak a peak at Crys lying comfortably next to him. Everything about her intrigued him. He liked talking to her, but what was he thinking? No way anything could happen. Not romantically anyway. Quickies always end up bad, and he didn't want to lose her friendship. Long-lasting relationships and Dean were like oil and water; they didn't stand a chance of mixing. All Dean knew was that he wanted to get closer to her. The only problem was he just couldn't figure out how.