The music was loud and the lights were blinding but at least that helped give Sam Wesson the confidence to strut upon the small stage as his alter ego, Samantha Angel.
At first, the regular customers at Harvelle's Roadhouse had been adamant that they didn't want a drag queen in their bar but, after a few shows, Samantha Angel had completely flipped their opinion. With fluttering long lashes and skyscraper high heels, she soon had all the men, and some women, eating out of her talon-nailed hands.
Sam Wesson couldn't pinpoint the moment that he decided to do drag but now, he couldn't picture himself doing anything else. He was quiet, humble and introverted but while being Samantha, his alter ego, he loud, in your face and extroverted. He adored her, along with most other people. Nobody was safe from her charm.
When the Harvelles had originally approached him, they were both just as sceptical as he was. It wasn't often that a drag queen preformed in front of a crowd of red-blooded males without a few hateful comments thrown around. It was originally Jo's idea as she'd seen a few drag shows while she travelled for a few weeks the year before. Ellen was doubtful but she agreed that the bar could do with some livening up on Friday nights.
Despite all their doubts, they eventually decided to give Samantha Angel a chance to convert the hardy hunters that gathered at the Roadhouse and it's easy to say that she quickly succeeded. Within mere weeks, hunter and civilians alike were congregating there on Friday nights with a promise of a good show. If anyone was to change their negative opinions then it was bound to be Samantha Angel.
Samantha Angel had just finished yet another Friday night show and was clambering gracefully off the stage in her absolute favourite black Louboutins. She strode over to the bar, stopping to flirt with men and accept compliments, so she could talk with Jo, the owner's daughter.
"Samantha!" The small woman leant against the polished wood of the bar as she peered up at the drag queen that towered above her. Sam was tall but when he put on Samantha's heels he was practically ducking under clouds.
She tilted her heavy make-up covered face down towards the petit blonde with a pearly white smile, "Jo, darling! How are you?" The energy oozed off the drag queen.
Ignoring the question, Jo laughed easily, "You were amazing up there! The best one yet." The energy from the show was contagious!
Lifting a hand to her chest, Samantha smiled sweetly, "Really? Why, thank you."
Jo began speaking when Samantha's phone chimed, interrupting her. Both the women glanced at the drag queen's breast before falling into a fit of giggles. Shrugging, Samantha pulled her cellphone out from where it was stashed in her bra. She apologised while opening the text.
My God, Samantha. Where are you? I've been waiting around this hellhole for years. Get your sweet ass down here before I drag you here (Pun intended)- Balthazar
Rolling her eyes, Samantha sighed before straightening up and addressing the barmaid again.
"Look, sweetie. I gotta run. I promised an old friend I'd help with a show." She rolled her shoulders and glanced around the room. A man on a table was staring at her so Samantha shot him a flirtatious wink and giggled at his blush.
Jo watched the exchange with amusement. The drag queen had seriously changed the atmosphere of the old bar. It was so much more lively and cheerful now, even when it was packed with grumpy hunters. They seemed to acclimatise to her after they found that she wasn't a demon or any other nasty.
"No, problem!" She replied while wiping down the surface of the bar, "I'll see you next Friday though, right?"
"Don't be silly! Of course you will." Leaning over the bar, Samantha placed two kisses Jo's cheeks. With a flash of white teeth and a wave, she was dashing out of the door with her suitcase of outfits and makeup trailing behind her. She really could move for a lady in heels... Or rather, a man in heels.
Jo shook her head and returned to pouring out beers and serving the customers.
It was Wednesday night, a week after, when a soaking wet Dean slumped through the door. The thunderstorm had obviously caught him unprepared leaving him dripping from head to boot-clad toe. He shook the water off, like a dog, before making his way towards the bar where Ellen was talking with a regular.
Upon spotting him, she smiled and drew him in for a warm hug, ignoring the way the water soaked into her T-shirt. Making her way behind the bar, she pulled out a beer and placed it down in front of the weary hunter. Leaning her elbow against the bar, Ellen rested her chin in her hand.
"Long time no see. Been busy?" Her thick accent drawled.
He shrugged and gulped down the liquid, "Yeah but nothing substantial, just ghosts and spirits mainly."
"You're taking a room tonight?" Somehow, she made the question sound like a statement.
"Yeah, don't think it'd be good to drive out in this weather." He muttered while peered over his shoulder towards the doors.
They stayed together for a few minutes in companionable silence as Dean sipped from the beer and Ellen cleaned off cups. The man had started to dry off and was beginning to enjoy the familiar atmosphere of the hunter's bar.
A man, halfway down the bar, called Ellen over with a wave of his large hand. The slightly blading man was still wet so Dean deduced that he'd only just come in against the weather. He went back to his drink until he heard Ellen raise her voice. At that, his senses were suddenly on high alert, ready to intervene. The hunter listened some more as he didn't want to jump to conclusions and Ellen could usually handle herself anyways.
"What did you just say?!" Ellen recoiled. The look on her face bordered fury and disgust. Hands braced on her hips, she took a power stance.
The man leant forward as though he thought that Ellen really hadn't heard him, "I said, Isn't the fag here tonight?"
Ellen pursed her lips and pulled the beer back from where she had only just sent it on the counter. Stone cold eyes sat unblinking in her skull. Her arms crossed and she raised her chin. Dean watched, always prepared to help out an old friend.
"I think you should leave." Ellen ground out through grit teeth, darkly.
"Oh! So you allow cock-suckers in here but not one of your own?!" With each word spoken from his mouth, Ellen seemed to grow increasingly outraged.
Dean had no idea who they were talking about but from the way she was reacting, Dean knew that the person was close to her. Possibly a family friend.
"If you don't leave now, I'll force you to leave." Ellen's face was challenging, almost like she wanted to physically throw him out onto the road and mud. Leave him a victim to the weather.
"What could you-" He began.
Dean interrupted him mid-sentence, "I believe she asked you to leave." He rose from the bar stool and crossed the short distance between them. He was significantly taller than the man but Dean wasn't hoping for a fight; he was too exhausted.
The man raised his hands in a surrendering gesture and began to back away, "Fine. I'll find somewhere else that doesn't worship those fucking abominations!"
He was out in door a few seconds later, speeding up when he saw Dean walking after him.
The hunter returned to his seat where Ellen was leaning on the other side of the bar. Her face looked conflicted as her brows were drawn and her eyes were distant. She swallowed. Dean took the seat in front of her and waited for the woman to notice him before speaking.
"Who was he talking about?" He gestured towards the door with a tilt his head. He ensured that disapproval also accompanied the curiosity in his voice.
Ellen scanned his features quickly, assessing whether he'd take the idea of a drag queen positively or the same as the homophobe that had just left the bar. She decided that the truth was probably easier with someone like Dean. He'd probably turn up one night on a Friday anyway so would eventually meet Samantha.
"Samantha." She muttered with a sad shake of the head.
"Samantha?" Confused that it was a woman since the man had seemed more homophobic than anything else. He'd never even heard of a Samantha around here.
Ellen partially shrugged, "Well... Technically, Sam."
That didn't clear anything up. Instead, it simply confused the hunter further.
"And... Who is Sam?" Peering around the room, he searched for a face than he didn't even know yet. He hoped that maybe it would be someone that he recognised.
"He performs here on Friday nights. It gets more business in even if they're not hunters. He's done wonders and is the kindest soul! It's usually packed on a Friday night due to him." She explained.
"And the guy called him a fag because?"
Ellen suddenly look unsure and became hesitant, "Because he does Drag."
There was a pregnant silence as the bar owner awaited his response. Dean stared at Ellen as she stared back. She was watching him carefully to see his reaction. A crease formed in the hunter's brow and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
"Drag?... Like dressing up as a chick?" He asked. It didn't seem like the Roadhouse's kind of gig. He couldn't imagine hunter's being enthralled in something like that.
The bar owner nodded, "Yep, he's done wonders for the bar."
"And the hunters like this?" He asked unconvinced.
She nodded again, "Yes they do. Look, if you don't like it Dean then I suggest you ignore it. You don't really visit down this way much anymore so it wouldn't really affect you anyway. It's only on Fridays."
The hunter chuckled as a smile stretched across his face, "I really don't mind it. I've only ever been to one drag show and it was good enough. I'm no homophobe or anything."
"I don't even know if he's gay..." She murmured.