Hey guys. This is my first Supernatural fic, I hope you enjoy. Please read and review, but no flames cuz I just don't like those. ;

CHAPTER ONE

"What's this place called?" Sam Winchester asked his brother, Dean, who had been driving throughout the night. Dean didn't particularly enjoy being on the road so long without sleep, but he preferred the night. His younger brother had slept the better part of the early morning, which was the reasoning behind his inquiry.

"We have just entered the lovely town of Ryan's Bluff, Tennessee," Dean replied, unwontedly yawning as he slowed the Chevy to a stop at a red light.

"I think we should stop here," Sam proposed, rubbing his face to wake himself up. "Get breakfast, get you a nap ..." Dean glanced at Sam acrimoniously, and Sam simply grinned brightly.

"If I lay down now, I'm out for at least a day," Dean breathed, passing under the green light.

"Well, we should get off the road for a few days anyway," Sam said. "One day, we'll get out of the car and we'll be two inches shorter. Not that anyone would notice if you're shorter." Dean snapped his head to the right and sneered at his brother.

"Are you callin' me short?" he feigned offense. Sam snickered and gazed out his window, suddenly wondering if they would ever find their father or the thing that killed Jessica.

Dean pulled the Impala into the small parking lot of an even smaller diner. Tiny's Café, the sign above said. Dean turned off the ignition, laid back in his seat, and yawned again.

"Are you sure you want to eat first?" Sam asked, "'Cause, you know, you kind of smell." Dean eyed his brother with indignation prior to climbing out of the car and heading inside. Sam trailed behind and sat in front of him.

The café was filled with locals, mostly wearing comfortable, thin clothing to atone for the heat outside. They all looked like wholesome, hard-working people, and they all seemed to know one another.

"No, wait a minute," Dean said, sticking his nose in the air. "I think it's you that smells." Sam's eyebrows stitched together and he casually lifted his tee-shirt to his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Do not," he argued, dropping his shirt. Dean laughed heartily.

"Made you smell yourself, though," he chuckled, pointing at him.

"Hi, can I help you?" a joyous Southern accent welcomed them. Sam and Dean looked up to a short, very petite young woman with a red-and-white checkered apron tied around her waist. Her hair was an unusual white color, her eyes were sparkling emeralds, and her skin had a healthy tan.

"I certainly hope so," Dean beamed, quickly laying his charm on this cute waitress. Sam glanced sideways at his older sibling and kicked him directly in the shin. Dean growled in pain, his enchanting smile faltering briefly, but he successfully recovered before the waitress even noticed.

"Do you have any specials?" Sam requested, hoping to make her feel more at ease with them, and not just chalk them up to the same perverted non-locals she probably served everyday. Instead, something peculiar happened: she looked up at them and flat-out stared at Sam for a moment and then did the same to Dean.

"Is ... something wrong?" Dean queried, gazing closely at her with narrowed eyes. She jumped out of her odd reverie, immensely embarrassed, and fished her notepad and pen out of her apron.

"I'm-I'm sorry," she stuttered, visibly shaken, and she went on to struggle through the specials that Sam had asked about. Sam and Dean ordered the cheapest breakfasts.

"Well, that was weird," Sam muttered.

"She wants me," Dean said, watching her walk away. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I think it was something else," he stated. When his older brother paid him no attention, Sam maneuvered his head directly in Dean's line of sight of the platinum-haired waitress.

"What?" Dean growled. "You know, I'm starting to question your sexuality, little brother." The highly offended and furious expression which crossed Sam's face alerted Dean that he'd crossed the line with his sarcasm, and he immediately back-paddled. "I'm sorry ..." Sam shook his head and put up his hand to stop Dean from continuing.

"Don't worry about it," Sam dismissed.

"All right then," Dean sighed, sipping his water the waitress had brought when she'd first visited their table. "What were you babbling about?"

"She was staring," Sam said. Dean's eyebrows rose and he motioned for Sam to continue. "It was like ... I don't know ... like she knew us or something."

"Yeah ..." Dean said slowly. "Or ... maybe she wanted both of us." Sam groaned and scratched the back of his head.

"Sometimes, Dean, I really think ..." he began.

"Stop," Dean commanded.

The little blonde waitress served their food just as nervously as she'd spoken to them earlier. But this time, neither Dean nor Sam said anything to make it worse for her. Dean also noticed what his brother had; her jitteriness had been caused by something that went far beyond infatuation. The brothers couldn't determine what bothered her.

"Think she knows who we are?" Dean asked, finishing his meal and glass of water.

"How would that be possible?" Sam wondered, sitting back in his chair.

"I don't know, but it's the only thing I can come up with," Dean resolved.

"Maybe she knows Dad," Sam offered. Dean looked across the table at his little brother, finding he never ceased to amaze him. He pointed at him, nodding his head, and the waitress approached.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" she asked. Her voice was so sweet and kind while combined with the native Southern twang, and Dean tried to recall ever dating a woman who had such an accent.

"I think the check will do just fine," Dean grinned. She returned the smile and pulled the check from her apron, laying it directly in front of him, letting her hand linger on it longer than normal.

"Thanks for coming," she whispered. "Have a nice day." She smiled shortly at Sam and walked away. This time Sam watched her leave rather than Dean, who was looking over the check.

"That was an odd waitress," he remarked, turning back to Dean.

"I don't think so," Dean admitted, handing Sam the check. He was surprised to find a note written on the back.

Please meet me back here at five when my shift ends, it said, I need your help. Sam's eyes shot up to Dean.

"So she does know Dad," he determined. Dean nodded.

"Unless I met her on another one of my famous drunken journeys to ..."

"Ryan's Bluff."

"Ryan's Bluff, Tennessee."