Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Rub it in my face, why dontcha? BTW, I'm not doing this every chapter, so consider this a blanket disclaimer for this fic. If I somehow gain possession of anything Supernatural-related, trust me, I'll brag here first.
Spoilers: Okay, kids, this takes place post-AHBL, so every conceivable spoiler is fair game. But my AHBL doesn't involve any death, destruction, or deal-making. Well, not on the part of the Winchesters, anyway. So, yeah, The Demon's dead, no Winchester children are (or were or will be) killed or otherwise irreparably harmed in reaching that end. Get there however you like. I peronally like to think that Jake's murder attempt was just unsuccessful. Sam recovers, the guys do their thing, and that's that.
Reviews: I like 'em. They make me happpy. LEAVE 'EM! Please. :)
A/N: Nothing particularly NC-17 in this first chapter, but, rest assured...I'm getting there. --cackles lecherously--
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Chapter One – It Begins
From her spot behind the bar, she could hear the voices of dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane hunters having dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane conversations about dozens of weary, hardened, slightly-insane things. "…Goddamn demon possessed a three-year-old and made her throw her own mother off the balcony. I was almost relieved when the kid didn't survive the exorcism…she would have grown up fucked in the head after something like that anyway." "…Fucking hate having to deal with vampire reports…half the time, they turn out to be just crazy Anne Rice fans, and I'm not allowed to kill them…" "…Heard a couple of guys actually managed to save somebody from hellhounds come to collect on a crossroads deal a few months back…" Her ears perked up at that one. She knew this story. But, before anything more could be said, the door of Harvelle's Roadhouse swung open and the bar fell silent for a moment as everyone surveyed the newcomers. Speak of the devil, she thought to herself, her hammering heart lodged firmly in her throat, and considered willing herself to seep through the cracks in the floorboards. Or maybe just haul ass out the back way. Shit, what are they doing here? I'm not ready for them yet!
She took a deep breath and made as if to slink back to the storeroom, but Ellen's booming voice behind her stopped her in her tracks. "Well, if it isn't my two favorite boys in all the land! Sam, Dean, get your butts over here, I've got somebody I want you to meet!" And Ellen proceeded to drag the young bartender right out onto the floor. Fuck… Alright, this is real life, babe, things won't always go according to The Plan. So improvise. She spared a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror running along the back of the bar behind the bottles of liquor. Well, at least she didn't look like total ass tonight. She was wearing form-fitting hip-hugging cords and a lacy teal tank top. She wore no makeup other than a smear of shiny pink lip gloss she had slathered on a few moments before, more out of habit than from any desire to have shiny pink lips. She thanked the voices in her head for that habit now. Her curly dark auburn hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, several ringlets escaping the elastic's confines. Cute, but definitely not trying too hard. Not trying at all, in fact. Whatever.
She barely had time to thank her lucky stars that she was having a moderately good hair day before she found herself deposited in front of Sam Winchester, Dean at his side, Ellen enthusiastically introducing them all and bragging about what a help Leila had been to her since the bar was re-built and the hunters started to come back. Jo was still off God knew where, and Ash… Well, anyway, Leila had just wandered in one day like an offering from above, looking for a job and a bed. Ellen patted Leila's shoulder fondly and looked up at Sam.
Leila tried not to shift uncomfortably. She knew enough about these men and about Ellen to know that she was being shoved full-tilt in Sam's direction, had expected it, in fact, had seen the wheels turn in the older woman's head every time she had mentioned the Winchesters. Leila had to admit, it would make perfect sense to Ellen. She hadn't bothered to lie about the fact that she was college-educated, although she had added that she was also a hunter. Seemed at the time like the best way to get a job at the Roadhouse. She probably should have claimed instead to be a survivor of a demonic possession, pissed off enough at the supernatural to want to help those seeking to destroy it, but not ballsy or crazy enough to go out and do it herself. After all, that much was true. Leila could tell you the name of every documented big bad between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and from Central America clear up to Saskatchewan. Most of them, she could also tell you at least one way to kill and who had killed one most recently. Of course, her expansive knowledge didn't make Leila any more confident about her likelihood of success on a real hunt. All the theory in the world can't make your hands shop shaking enough for you to plunge that stake into the vampire's heart when all you can see are dripping fangs approaching your jugular at an almost comical rate of speed.
Sam greeted Leila with a warm open smile. She had never gotten to see him close up before. Wow. He really was ridiculously cute. And that rumored uncanny ability to put everyone at ease? Completely true. Alright, guard up, babe. Don't let yourself be put so at ease that you'll let slip something you shouldn't.
She took a deep, but imperceptible, breath (now that little skill had taken practice to master) before turning to face Dean. Hoped desperately that the steadying breath had actually…well, steadied, her. And was relieved that she was able to keep her feet underneath her. When she managed to hold her hand steady as he shook it, her smile lost most of its forcedness and became rather genuine. She was still terrified, but she was slowly gaining control of her nerves. This could be okay.
"How do you do?" she said, shaking Dean's hand firmly.
He held her grasp a little too long, and her heart skipped a beat, even though it was to be expected. The man was a flirting machine. She smiled tightly and withdrew her hand from his. Oh, no you don't, mister. Sam caught the slight rebuff and smirked just a bit. She pretended not to notice. Game on, boys.