*Hi! This is another one-shot based off my OC from my crossover. You do not need to read that to understand what's going on here. This is how my OC meets Sam and Dean for the first time. I hope you all like it! If you have time reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!*
"Hey, old man."
"Aria?" Bobby's smile can be heard in his gruff voice from over the phone. "Would it kill you to pick up the phone once in a while?" My lips curl up and I shake my head,
"Good to hear your voice too." My heart grows heavy as I realize how long it has been since I last talked with the man who took me in when everything was ripped away from me.
"How are you holding in there?"
"Dealing," I answer plainly. It just doesn't seem real. John Winchester was a legend, the hunter that monsters told scary stories about. I've seen the man fight, had the honor of working side by side with him. He's not the type to go down easily. But in this line of work, we all go down eventually. It's the risk of the job. I push the heart wrenching pain down, clearing my throat, "Are his boys staying with you?"
"Yeah," a pause follows before he huffs, my mind picturing him rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Let me guess, John's dying wish was for you to look out for them?"
"You know, Bobby, I'm starting to wonder why you didn't become some psychic instead of a hunter. They make better pay."
"It's only your mind I can read, kid." He lets out a long sigh and I stare out into the green field I'm parked beside. There is nothing better than back country roads. The remoteness of it is peaceful allowing me to forget about all the dark things inside.
"How are they doing?" I've never met the two before, but they were all John ever talked about. I can only imagine the older one is talking it pretty rough. Dean, I think his name is. John and he were hunting together for the last few years while the younger boy went off to college. I listened to John go on and on during his drunken nights about how he regretted what he said the night Sam left.
"About as well as you are." Yeah, I figured that much. "They're heading out soon though, going back on the road for a while," Bobby offers.
"Where to?"
"Well, they met an old friend of John's."
"Yeah, who's that?" I ask knowing that the late man had a few good buddies that would always jump in when you were in a pinch.
"The Harvelle's," Bobby answers and I shake my head, pushing off the hood of my dark blue 1968 Mustang to pace the side of the road.
"Did Ellen try and kill them?"
"Most likely, boys walked in unannounced during the day. You know how she is about keeping her and Jo safe."
That was something I knew all too well. My father introduced them to me after I got out of the military and started hunting with him. Ellen took me in like I was her daughter, always reminding me that there was a room in back and a cold beer waiting. Just as Ellen was like a mother, Jo was like a little sister. The girl so desperately wants to follow in her late father's footsteps, but Ellen refuses. I don't blame her either. As long as I'm around, I'm not letting that sweet girl become one of us. You lose everything in this life, that's just what happens. So when you get someone precious; son, daughter, wife, husband, you hold on tight to them and leave the life or abandon them. Either way, every moment is treasured because sooner or later the day will come and they'll be taken. It happens all the time and it's a guarantee.
"So, I'm assuming their first stop will be the Roadhouse?" I slip into my car, staring out the windshield at the endless black asphalt lying before me.
"Yep," he answers simply.
"Well, I've been meaning to stop in there. I guess I'll just meet them there." I start the engine and pull off the shoulder back onto the paved road.
"Aria," Bobby starts before letting a silence fall over the phone. "I know you would do anything for him, but are you sure that this is right for you?"
I sigh heavily, "I'm the only other person who knows about this demon, Bobby. They deserve to have as much help as possible."
The yellow bulbs on the red sign illuminate the beat up bar.
"When I get it right
Cause I fell on
Black days
How would I know
That this could be my fate"
The song drifts through the cracked opened windows. I grab the dirty brass knob and step in, letting the screen door bang against the frame behind me. A few people seated by the door look up at my entrance, but quickly look back down. Everyone else in the small room is too busy drinking or playing cards too notice me. I give the place a quick look over before heading to the bar. It hasn't changed at all; the walls are still beat up from the numerous fights that go down weekly, the floor sticky with one too many beer spills that didn't get cleaned in time.
I pull out the worn bar stool, leaning against the glossy bar. The Impala isn't in the parking lot meaning the boys aren't here. I glance at the clock on the structural wooden pillar against the bar, calculating how far it is from Bobby's to here and assuming the brothers left around the time I spoke with Bobby.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
My lips curl up into a fat grin as I spin around on the stool, coming face to face with my mullet headed friend. "I could say the same for you, MIT." I slip off the leather seat and pull Ash into a tight hug, reveling in his tight embrace. The guy has been around the Roadhouse for as long as I can remember, another adopted kid that Ellen took in. Much like Jo, Ash is like a brother, one of my closest friends in this life.
He could be working at Google or for the government doing crazy math stuff, he's that smart. Although, looking at him you wouldn't suspect it. He's scruffy looking, a twang in his words, and a perfectly manicured mullet growing over that genius head.
He pulls away, tossing his long hair behind his shoulder. "Still rocking the mullet eh, Ash?" I tease ruffling his spiky do.
"Whoa, whoa you know there is no touching of the money maker." We both release a hard laugh before settling at the bar.
"Where are Ellen and Jo?" I ask taking another look around, but coming up empty.
"Coming in right about now," he answers, knocking his head back towards the kitchen door right as it swings open to reveal the mother.
Ellen's dark brown eyes land on me immediately. "I'll be damned," she murmurs, dropping the box on the bar and coming around to hug me. Her grip is fierce and welcoming, like that of a parent who's had to wait months for their kid to come back from college. She pulls away, a huge smile on her face before turning on her death stare. "Why the hell haven't you called?"
"There's lots going on, Ellen," I answer simply, shrugging my shoulders. It's the truth at least. This past year I've spent with John trying to hunt down the demon who killed his wife. That is until he ditched me and started working alone only to get himself killed. There's nothing you can do about it now. He made the right call and you know that. You just keep your promise to him.
She rolls her eyes, "Mhmm, well let me tell you this young lady you leave this bar again I better get a damn phone call once a month to know you're alive." I click my heels together and salute her, failing to keep a straight face. She knocks me upside the head, the ghost of a smirk on her stern features.
I barely get to ask how everything's been going around the bar when a blonde head of wavy hair rushes into me, arms curling around my waist. The attack nearly knocks me to the ground, but I manage to keep my balance as Jo straightens up and punches me in the arm. "Jeez, I'm not here five minutes and you two are already beating me up," I cry jokingly looking from mother to daughter as I rub the tender spot on my arm.
"Yeah, because you never call," Jo cries, shoving my shoulder lightly, her face lit up with joy.
"Or visit," Ellen adds, walking back behind the bar to continue serving the patrons.
I plop down at the bar beside Ash, and Jo grabs the one next to me. "Alright, I get it! I will check in more, promise." Truthfully, it's been over a year since I've even seen the three, a little less since I last checked in over phone. But I just find it easier to try and distance myself as far from others as possible. I attract death. Everybody I have ever loved has died, and honestly, when it happens enough you start to fear getting close to people, fear that pain that is associated with grief.
"Good," Ellen comments with a proud smirk, setting a beer down in front of me.
"So, where have you been?" I look at Jo's eager face, her brown eyes desperate for something exciting. All she wants is a little excitement to escape this dreary life her mother has her living. She lives for my hunting stories and always helps Ash put together research for me when I need a little help.
"I think the more important question is why you are here?" Ellen butts in, slapping a white towel over her shoulder as she crosses her arms over her chest.
I take a swig of the ice cold beer, letting the carbonated bubbles burst and cool my throat. "I'm looking for two brothers, names are Sam and Dean. Rumor has it you know the two," I admit secretly, keeping quiet about my activities the past year and half with John.
Ellen is like a mother to me and since John is the one who was hunting with her husband when he died, she still blames him for it. Time heals all wounds, but deep down she never truly agreed with me hunting with the man. But she's not my mother, and I owed that man my life. So, if that meant giving up my revenge hunt for the demon that killed my family and helping the man who saved my life then that was how it was going to be.
"I have. Why you looking for them?" she questions back, shifting her weight to her right side as her hip juts out.
"I have my reasons, Ellen." If she knew about my promise to John she would go into this whole speech about how I don't owe him anything, but that's not true. He was as much of a father to me as Bobby is. John taught me how to defend myself and gave me a purpose in life.
We stare one another down, neither ready to give in. Someone hollers for a shot and Ellen breaks the contact with a huff and slight shake of her head. I turn to Jo, ready to call it quits on our little reunion. "Is that spare room in the back still open?"
"Yeah, I'll go get it set up for you," she offers, knowing that she'll get all my gory hunter details tomorrow. I glance at Ellen, seeing her back to me and reach over the bar, snagging a bottle of Southern Comfort.
"You can still keep up with me, right?" I tease Ash, raising the bottle a little.
He puts on an offended face and gives an incredulous laugh, "The real question is, can you keep up with me?"
I drop two twenties on the bar, "Sounds like a challenge, MIT."
I wake with a splitting headache. The room is warm and I kick off the sheet wrapped around my legs, sighing when it only gets twisted more. Soft morning light strains through the open blinds, and I push myself up, groaning softly, "I've got to stop drinking."
My feet patter along the floor to my duffel. The bottle of Advil sounds as I snatch it up and swallow two down, dragging my fingers through my hair a few times before checking my appearance in the mirror. Dark circles sit under my eyes, skin pale from lack of sun, and eyes bloodshot from a night of heavy drinking. My reflection stares back at me silently. You shouldn't be alive. Everyone around you dies. I look away abruptly, leaving the room and abandoning those thoughts behind. Now is not the time to sit and hold a pity party for myself. John's boys should be here sometime today and I still have no clue how I'm supposed to do this.
My fist pounds on Ash's door as I pass, "Wake up, sleeping beauty!" A muffled slew of curses greets me and I give one final knock before trudging out to the bar to find Ellen and Jo wide awake, drying glasses. "Morning," I greet, strolling to the closest bar stool and plopping down on it.
"I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up," Ellen comments, throwing the towel over her shoulder.
"They don't exactly keep nice beds in motel rooms," I defend softly, a frown on my lips. The Roadhouse is homey; it's not foreign like the trashy and skeevy rooms I live in for weeks at a time. The woman doesn't comment, instead she leans against the bar, watching me carefully.
"Why are you really here, Aria? I'm mean don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're here, but you don't call for months, and now suddenly you show up looking like hell warmed over looking for John Winchester's boys. I just want to know you're sudden interest in the two when you barely know them?"
I sigh, rubbing my sleep swollen eyes, "I've got some info that can help them." It's not the whole truth, but it's better than starting my morning off with a huge argument.
Her eyes flicker over me before she straightens up, lips pursed, and tosses a towel my way. "You're not staying here for free, missy." I smile softly, catching the small fabric before I slide off my stool and stand beside Jo, picking up a pint glass.
The bar is busy tonight. Every table and stool is filled. People line up against the walls, glasses and bottles clasped in their hands. Music blares form the jukebox in the corner, drowning out the conversations people are having. Jo runs around with her tray and apron, clearing tables and serving customers as Ellen remains stationed behind the bar filling shots with a large smile as she talks with her patrons.
I knock back a shot before leaning down to line my shot up. The wooden stick glides through my fingers effortlessly, striking the cue ball right into the eight ball. The black ball rockets over the table sinking into my desired pocket. "YES!" I holler shooting up straight, keeping my act up to fool the men.
"Lucky shot, sweetheart," the man with the other stick comments. He's a large man, arms rippled in muscle and scars and beady brown eyes that glare at me.
"Yeah, tell me about it?" I fake, not liking the way the guy's friends are beginning to circling the table. "I thought for sure it would bounce out." The man purses his lips, nodding like he believes me, as one of his friends, tiny compared to the other three, comes to stand next to me. I am not drunk enough for this shit.
"Guess this would be a bad time to talk about that money you owe me?" I ask, faking a timid voice even though they see right through my act. The guy's lips curls up at the edges before he launches himself forward. Adrenaline floods my veins and I drop, missing the fist and punch the guy in the groin. He curls over and I leap up, knocking an elbow into his friend standing behind me. A hand curls around my bicep, spinning me right into a fist. I stumble back into the wall, trying to clear the sting of tears in my eyes as two men come at me from both sides.
I move quick, kicking out at one man's knee and managing to block the other's hit at the same time. I reach out, grabbing the pool stick from the green felt table and hold it out, keeping them back. The two men I knocked down earlier are back up and circle me with the other two. "Four on one, doesn't really seem fair," I comment, watching their movements like a hawk. Four sets of eyes stare in hate before they advance. I swing, catching one in the face and break the stick. "Fuck," I curse, ducking to avoid another hit to the face.
A set of arms wrap around my chest, lifting me off the ground as another guy comes at me, fist ready. I slam my head back, kicking the oncoming attacker in the chest as the arms fall away. My back slams to the ground and I roll under the table to the other side. Three down and one to go. I stand and turn, ready to finish the guy I was playing, when a heavy body slams me into the wall. A harsh grunt flies from me at the impact and then the air whooshes out of me, the man's fist drilling into my gut. I try to block his hits, but each one he lands has me cringing and fighting for air.
An opening for me to get back in control opens up and I go to take it, but the guy is pulled away, earning a swift right hook to the jaw, and goes down. His body practically spins a full three hundred and sixty degrees from the blow before collapsing to the ground. My gaze drifts from the man on the ground to the other three, completely ignoring my savior. The guys gingerly get up; each ready to have another go it looks like. I suck in a deep breath and push off the wall when the cocking of a shotgun sounds.
"Grab your friend and get out of my bar," Ellen barks, her weapon aimed directly at the three. Neither man argues, each holding their hands up in surrender as they slink around the table and grab their moaning friend and leave.
Ellen looks over at me worriedly, but I wave her off. I've had worse before. A few good hits aren't going to stop me. The rest of the patrons are unfazed by the fight and go back to their conversations like nothing happened. I bend over, resting my hands on my knees as I suck in a deep breath, glancing up at the Good Samaritan.
"Thanks," I say to the man.
"It's not a problem," he answers, lending a hand to straighten me up. I take it graciously, wincing as I come to my full height.
"Do you usually get into fights like that?" a younger man that I didn't notice asks.
I laugh softly, thinking of the number of men I've screwed over by playing dirty, "No, usually I'm better at not getting caught." Both guys are a little taken aback, eyes widening and brows creasing.
"You hustle?" the shorter of the two asks.
"Only way I make money," I comment unhappily. People don't pay you to save their lives, hell, in this business you're lucky to get a thank you.
"Wait, I'm sorry, but are you a hunter?"
"Takes one to know one," I say smiling at the younger, taller one. The two of them look like they fit into this shit life. Their eyes are haunted just like mine, shoulders weighed down by a burdensome secret that you can never share. But it's more than that, these two carry a sense of unease with them, like they are always weary of their surroundings and who they associate with. Plus they got a keen eye for the details. Why else would a girl like me be hustling pool? For most hunters this is how we make a living. We are already good liars since we impersonate law enforcement or whoever to gain access to crime scenes, why not use that talent to make money?
"No offense, but you are way too gorgeous to be in a line of work like this," the shorter one replies, taking a nice long look over my body.
"Same goes for you handsome," I comment back, resting a hand on my hip as I admire away. He definitely is a good looking man; light brown hair that is slightly spiked up, piercing green eyes lighter than mine, a strong jaw, and a hint of a bad boy aura around him. He gives me a bright smile and I return it before glancing at the man beside him.
He notices me eyeing him and starts blushing. "Who's your friend?" I ask, sensing some shyness in the young man. He's really tall, over six feet at least, with shaggy brown hair close to covering his hazel eyes. The guy looks more boyish than the other, his eyes not as hardened to this cruel world.
"This is my brother, Sam, but he's really quiet," the older brother, I'm assuming, says trying to take my attention off Sam. I smile politely and reach a hand out to Sam. "Aria," I introduce as he takes my hand in a firm shake.
"Sam," he says confidently, his blush fading.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"I'm Dean by the way," the older brother interjects anxiously and my blood runs cold. I pull away from Sam and really look at the two. Sam and Dean. It couldn't be a coincidence; it had to be them, they're brothers and same names as John's kids. I look over Dean and notice the leather coat that once belonged to John, the same coat that I sobbed into the night he and my father came crashing into my life and saved me from a demon. It's beat up from years of wear, but unmistakably the same one.
"Winchester?" I ask searching for confirmation. Their shoulders tighten at my question, a mask coming up in preparation for whatever.
"Yeah," Sam answers wearily, looking down at his brother. I huff in amusement, walking over to the pool table and leaning against it with my arms crossed over my chest.
"Only seems right that you'd be jumping in to save my ass," I comment thinking of their late father. John saved my life quite a few times, not physically all the time either. The guy pulled me out of a lot of dark holes that I dug myself into.
"What do you mean?" Dean questions
"I'm a very close friend of your dad's…or was," the last part coming out in a whisper. Their jaws clench in synchronization as we sit in silence, thinking of the late hunter.
"He never said anything about you," Dean comments, his green eyes calculating.
"Your dad was a man of many secrets, Dean." John never wanted Sam and Dean to know about me. Why? Well, I guess that's something I never got around to asking. But I've had plenty of time to come up with a few ideas and the only one that I can believe is that he didn't want to mix his life with me with his boys. He wanted to keep his family in a safe little bubble to himself and not contaminate it with his private one.
"Aren't you a little young to be hanging… um, hanging out with…"
"Somebody that old," I finish for Sam.
"Sorry, I'm...it's just that...like you said our dad kept a lot of secrets," Sam stumbles, blood flushing his cheeks.
"I wasn't sleeping with John," I deadpan, "Your dad saved my life."
I look around the bar to find it still packed. This conversation is better done in private and after that fight I need a drink. "Why don't we talk after Ellen closes?" I offer, "We can get a bottle and chat."
Sam looks eager to do so while Dean plasters on a fake smile, not looking so excited. "Appreciate the offer, but we have some place we need to be."
"Dean, what…Excuse us," Sam protests, floored by the comment as he pulls his brother aside. I watch the two go back and forth heatedly. Great, Winchester's fighting. I've seen John's wrath and know how stubborn he could be. There's no doubt in my mind that his boys are the same. I push off the table and invade on their private conversation.
"What if I told you this wasn't an optional meeting?" It's obvious Dean refuses to stay despite how Sam feels, but I can't let them leave. This is what John wanted me to do, his dying fucking wish; find his boys and watch out for them.
"Don't let them do anything stupid and don't let this life consume them like it did me."
Dean glares at me and Sam tenses once more. "I have info on your demon," I bait, trying to real them in and keep them interested. Immediately, the two do a complete one-eighty.
"He told you about yellow eyes?" Sam questions urgently, but his brother doesn't seem to be that impressed. Dean grabs me by my shirt, thrusting me against the nearest wall.
"Dean!"
We stare one another down, green fire with green fire. "Who are you?" he growls, jaw clenched tight and nostrils flared.
I don't answer. Instead I slam my head forward, colliding with his. He falls back and I grab his arm, kicking the back his knees and pinning him to the ground effortlessly. He struggles under me and I lean forward whispering harshly in his ear, "I'm the girl you don't want to fuck with."
I release him and jump back as the eldest stands up furiously, shooting daggers with his eyes. "I'm not the enemy. You want to know more then stick around," I tell the two with hands raised in surrender before heading down to the bar. Dean stalks out of the place with Sam close on his heels and I let out a defeated sigh. You already failed.
Ash slides up next to me, leaning lazily against the countertop with a beer in hand, "You alright, forest?"
A stubborn smile finds its way to my lips and I nod my head. Never in a million years will I tell him that the nickname is an old one from a past that no longer belongs to me. "Yeah, MIT, I'm good."
"Alright, so now we get to party. I was going easy last night" he remarks, handing me two shots. I shake my head, raising my glass, and down the liquor. The whisky burns at first, but leaves a comforting warmth to spread throughout my chest and warm my insides.
"Hey." I turn around at the voice and find Sam standing before me sheepishly, Dean next to him with a reluctant look. "That offer still up?"
"Just hit the lights and lock the doors," Ellen reminds, dropping her towel on the bar. The three of us nod, and I give her a salute. She turns to leave, stopping at the door, "Oh, Dean, if you lay another hand on her, I'll blow your knees out." With that she gives a bright smile and says goodnight, letting the door swing shut behind her.
"She's pretty protective of you," Dean comments, pulling his gaze from the closed door.
I let out a short laugh before scouring the bottom shelf for a bottle of whisky. "You should see how she is with Jo," I mumble, picking through the selection. "What do you two like; Jameson, Southern, Hennessey?"
"I'm good," Sam says and I look over at Dean. He raises his hand in denial and I shrug, bending down to pick up my green bottle.
"Alright then," I pull out the Jameson and pour myself a glass, swirling the liquor around a few times before taking a sip. The amber liquid slides down easily, warming my belly. Sam and Dean wait in silence, radiating with anxiousness. Time to move on with this.
"What do you want to know?" The two brothers look at one another before setting their gaze back on me.
"You said our dad saved you, how?"
"Pass," I say simply, taking another sip.
"Pass? No, that's not going to work," Dean starts, rising from his seat.
"That's exactly how it's going to work or you can leave right now with no information about this demon or what connections I have," I fire back. That topic of what happened that night, all those years ago, will never be discussed. I've buried it down deep inside myself, so deep that it will never see the light of day. Those people, their names, who they were to me, all of it will remain bottled up.
"Okay, we'll do it your way," Sam says intervening before a possible fight breaks out.
Dean eases back into his seat, fists tight as they rest atop the bar before I urge them on. "What else do you want to know?"
"How long have you known our dad?"
"Six years."
"How do you know about the demon?" Dean's stare is hard as the question slips from his pink lips. A quick sigh rushes from me and I rest my hands on the bar, leaning into it.
"I was hunting it with your dad. He trained me when I first got into the life and about a year ago we started hunting together. After a few months your dad decided that things were getting too dangerous for me to stick around, so we split up. He would call and send me on a random hunt or have me do research or check up on leads. Two months ago, after not hearing anything for a while, he called. Told me good bye and to come and find you two." A stabbing pain radiates throughout my chest, dredging up the pain, but my tears have long since dried up.
"Why would you agree to risk your life to find this demon? He left because it was too dangerous for me to be with him, so why did he turn to you?" Dean questions.
"I owed him my life. I'd never say no to anything he asked," I answer honestly, meeting Dean's gaze and finding an ocean of understanding. These two were trained by the best hunter out there,. They knew how far their father went for others and the debt they owed to him.
"I want to help you find this monster."
"No," the two say in unison.
I smile politely, "Doesn't matter what you say because I'm still going to help."
"Look, I'm sure you're a great hunter and all but this is our battle."
"You're wrong, Dean. I've been a part of this fight for a while now. It's my war too." This fight is bigger than either of them can imagine. John was just scratching the surface before he died. They are going to need as much help as they can get.
"Thank you," Sam offers after a long silence.
"You don't have to thank me." I pour another glass, downing it in one gulp.
"Alright, so when do we leave?" Dean asks, green eyes meeting mine.
"Correction, when do you two leave? I'm not going with you."
Their shoulders bunch up and foreheads crease. "You just said you were going to help us," Dean argues, shoulders tensing.
"Easy there, Winchester. I am going to help, but I work alone. When I find something or vice versa, call me and we'll meet up and work from there."
Sam and Dean look to one another, communicating in silence as I wait patiently for the two to agree. I can't go with them, it's not an option. I'll start to care, really care, about them and I can't go through that pain again. That's why I stay away from everyone, keep my distance because eventually they will die and I'll be left to deal with the agony of them being gone. This is better for all of us.
The two are apprehensive, but Sam finally speaks up, reaching a hand out, "Deal."
I plaster on a smile and shake his hand, "Deal."
I promised John I would find his boys and watch out for them. Now that I've found them, I just have to figure out how to keep them safe.
This is going to be one hell of a ride.