Welcome! This is my first story I've published here (except for two crappy little ones) so bear with me! My goal is to update as often as I can, but this weekend won't let me have any free time, since I will be playing rugby at Final Four for the Minnesota Rugby Union! Whoo hoo!
I do not own Supernatural, or anything related to it. Skye is all mine, as well as the idea of the bar, the animals, the truck (which is the same truck that my fiancee drives!).
Enjoy!
Castiel stood in the shadows, watching the small child sleeping fitfully. She kicked her legs under her baby blanket, her eyes closed. The snow outside the window sent falling shadows over her face, the moonlight lighting up her delicate features.
The angel gently stroked his finger over her cheek, calming her into a quiet slumber. A smile, so faint it was almost undetectable, graced his lips. "God bless, Skye Grace." He whispered into the darkness before disappearing with a rustle of wings.
Skye Grace Winchester slept peacefully, unaware of the angel that watched her protectively each and every night.
~18 years later~
Skye walked through the empty hallways of the high school with her head high, her "don't-give-a-shit" attitude in plain sight. Her bright green eyes were obscured by a pair of sunglasses, her blonde hair falling just to her shoulder blades. She was wearing a gray t-shirt covered with a dark red flannel button up, dark wash jeans with a black leather belt, and her boots.
"Hey, Skye!" Somebody yelled down the hallway, but Skye didn't look up to see who it was. She really didn't care right now either. She just wanted to be out before she got caught by the principal again.
"Ms. Winchester, where do you think you're going?" A man's voice barked out just as she was about to push open the door. She groaned. 'Dammit', she thought.
Turning to glare venomously at the principal, a short round man called Tratsch, she stuck her tongue in her cheek, rolling her eyes. "I'm leaving."
Principal Tratsch quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think you can just walk out of here without serving detention later?"
"Nobody cares if I leave. You'd rather not spend detention with me anyway. And my mother doesn't care, because she is just a worthless mother who would rather do drugs than raise a kid." Skye stood, ready to leave, waiting for a reply from the man.
"Well… uh…well…" He mumbled, glancing around nervously.
Skye grinned. "Exactly. See ya later Tratsch." She laughed quietly as she strode to her truck, a 1989 F-150 pickup. The engine rumbled to life, spewing black smoke as she left for home. The twenty minute drive back to the house was uneventful, so she sang along with the radio as Metallica and AC/DC played. She was grinning by the time she pulled into the drive way.
A large black and tan dog was laying in the sun on the porch, soaking up the mid-December sun. He slowly raised his head as Skye pulled her truck to a halt. With a huff, the dog stood up and stretched before following Skye into the old red barn. She reached down and scratched behind his ears.
"Heya, Jack. I missed you buddy." She laughed, flipping on the lights in the barn. The other animals begin to move around in the stalls, waiting for her to feed them. "Who's hungry?' She laughed as one of the horses nickered and the cattle starting lowing from the pasture out back.
The first stall she walked to held a large chestnut Quarter Horse. The name on his stall door read 'Doc'. He stuck his big head over the half wall and stared at her as she brought over some hay. She chuckled while she rubbed his face.
The next horse was a black Appaloosa named Outlaw. He stood about 15 hands high, and was the shortest horse she owned. He sniffed her hair, gently lipping a few loose strands. Skye shooed him away as she stuffed some hay into his hay bag.
In the third stall, Skye almost couldn't see Drifter, a Black Paint stallion. His face was hidden in the shadows, but she could see the large white patch on his back, and the dim barn lighting reflected in his piercing blue eyes. He stayed in the back corner of his stall, flicking his ears her direction as she gave him his share of hay. He nickered softly, still not moving from his spot.
Cooper, a large brown Clydesdale, stood with his head leaning on the side of the stall door, watching her quietly as Skye gave hay to the other three horses. He stood at 17.5 hands, his ears brushing the top of the stall when he raised his head up. He kept pushing against her arms as she tried to give him as well, but she still managed to get it in the hay bag. "You little shit, Cooper! Be a good boy!" She laughed, playfully slapping his nose, making him huff.
Once the horses were done, Skye shrugged on her Carhartt jacket, the dark brown of the material warming her up instantly. She went in to the feed room at the back of the barn and filled a bucket with a mix of corn, cottonseed, protein pellets, and oats before she walked back to the main part of the barn in to the large stall opposite the four horses. Meat Head, her Hereford bull, stood waiting for his feed. He couldn't get his head through the opening on his door, since his horns didn't fit through all the way. He watched as she filled his trough with the grain, stepping up to it as she pulled the bucket away. She scratched around his great white horns, chuckling as he tossed his head. "You're a silly guy, Meat Head." She said as she walked back to the feed room.
The last chores of the night were the cattle in the outside pasture. She grabbed two five-gallon pails with the same feed as Meat Head and trudged outside through the snow. Jack followed her outside, leaving his place in the warm barn outside to the cold. Skye whistled for the cattle, emptying the pails into the ground feeders. One by one, the fourteen beef cattle in the pasture walked up the path to the yard, where their hay and feed waited. Skye's two cows, Bucky and Remington, lead the herd as they ambled up. The other twelve calves were market steers waiting for slaughter in the middle of summer.
Skye closed the barn door, shutting the lights off as she did. Jack ran up to the porch, scratching on the house door. She opened the old wooden door to the farmhouse, kicking off her boots and shucking her jacket off. She knew her mom wasn't home, so she didn't even see if she was. After feeding Jack, Skye ran up the steps to her room, quickly changing in to her work clothes: dark skinny jeans, black combat boots, a black muscle tank, black bandana, and her leather jacket. She applied some basic make up to her eyes before heading back downstairs and grabbing her keys from the table.
"Bye Jack, I'll see you later bud. Keep the house safe, attack anybody who comes okay?" She was rewarded with a tail wag as the dog just laid on the floor of the kitchen next to the air vent. Skye rolled her eyes, walking back to her truck. Once again the Ford roared to life, radio blaring something she couldn't understand. Another uneventful drive to work and she pulled into the parking lot at Bruiser's, the local bar. She parked in her spot in the back, making her way inside to set up the bar before everyone got off work for the day.
Her boss, Troy, was already there firing up the grill and fryers. "Hey, Skye. Ready for a busy night?" He smirked her direction.
She laughed, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail before going through the register and counting the money. "Yeah, you're a funny guy, Troy. It's Thursday. Not many people show up on Thursday nights."
"Apparently, its Jake Ballweg's 21st today. And since his dad is always here, I figured that meant we might have a bunch of 21 year olds here looking to get shit faced." Troy kept setting up the fryers when Bruce, the owner of the place, walked in with a dolly of beer for the coolers.
"Hey guys." He said as he began unloading the beer, letting Skye do her own thing with the behind the bar work. Bruce wouldn't admit it, but in all the years of running the bar, he had never had a better bartender than Skye Winchester. One, her name was badass and gave her a great reputation with the locals, and Two, she knew how to operate on her own and take care of the people at the bar. The only thing she didn't do was wait on the tables, which was what Stacy did. "Any word on Ditzy yet?" Bruce yelled from the cooler.
Troy and Skye shared a look before laughing. "Yeah, when is she ever on time?" Troy looked at the clock above the fryer.
"Never." Skye closed the drawer to the register, turning around to check the ice machine. "Dammit, ice machine broke again. Do we still have ice in the freezer?"
Troy shrugged, making Skye groan out loud. She walked into the freezer and began looking for ice bags. "Ah-ha! Winner!" She smiled, hauling the bags to the bar and loading the ice machine.
The front door opened with a ding, the cowbell at the top signaling a customer. Skye looked up to see Stacy, a busty woman with dark hair and tight jeans. "Hey Skye. I'm not too late am I?" Skye shrugged, telling her that Bruce was looking for her. "Ugh, whatever…" She said, walking past the bar, her high heels clicking on the floor.
The first bar patrons walked in at 3:30, not too long after Stacy showed up. More and more customers came through the door shortly after that, packing the bar like most nights. Skye had a permanent smile on her face, conversing with the guys and gals and getting drinks. She frowned a little as she saw one of the local guys walk in, Travis Meyer.
He grinned at her, his tobacco-stained teeth sending a shiver down her spine. His clothes were dirty, having just come from the auto shop on the other side of town. Skye was fully aware that he only came to the bar because he wanted Skye.
Skye would never want Travis.
Troy caught her eye from the kitchen. He gave her a look that said "Is it Travis again?" She nodded, rolling her eyes and getting back at serving drinks, loading up a tray for Stacy.
Around 8:30 that night, two guys walked in that Skye had never seen before. She didn't pay much attention to them, seeing as out-of-towners walked in randomly all the time. They were maybe 35 years old, if she had to guess. Both tall, one a little bit taller than the other. Both dressed in flannel shirts with jackets, jeans, and work boots. The shorter one had short blonde hair, while the taller one had long brown hair. Skye figured they were brothers or co-workers.
The shorter one looked at the bar and smiled, while the taller one headed to grab a table near the back wall. "Hey sweetheart." He grinned cheekily at Skye, making her quirk an eyebrow and smile back.
"What can I get for you and your friend over there?" She asked, grabbing a glass and filling it with tap beer for a patron.
"Well I was hoping for some beer. What kind do you have?" Dean asked, leaning one arm on the bar in front of Skye.
Shaking her head, Skye grabbed a bar rag to wipe up spilled beer. "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll tell you if we have it."
Dean nodded. "Alright, got Bud Light?" Skye shook her head yes. "Awesome, two of those."
Skye reached under the bar and pulled out two chilled bottles. "There ya go. $2." She said, waiting for him to pay so she could keep working, because she wasn't impressed with his flirting tonight.
His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Awesome. Here, thanks." He grabbed the bottles and walked over to where Sam was, Skye's green eyes following him as he went. Somebody was calling her name and pulled her from her thoughts, a smile in place as she kept serving.
A few hours passed and those two strangers were still there, and after the amount of beer consumed by them Skye was surprised that they were still able to function properly. The bar had emptied enough that the two guys moved to sit at the bar counter, conversing with one another quietly.
"Still doin' alright gentlemen?" Skye asked as she wiped down the bar that was unoccupied in spots. She glanced at them before moving down the bar a little ways to keep cleaning.
They nodded. "Yeah, I guess we're doing pretty well. How're you doing tonight?" The shorter one asked, smiling.
Skye shrugged. "Living in paradise, is what I say." She grinned, refilling their mugs with the draft beer they switched to halfway through the night.
"So, how old are you exactly? You look 22, but I have a feeling that's wrong…"
"Actually, I'm 18, and no, if you ask, I am definitely not interested in anything." She smirked at them, watching the one with shorter hair lose his smile a little bit.
"But I never asked you anything…"
"You were going to. I know how it works with you strangers. Never seen ya before, probably just passing through town, looking for a quick hook-up, and leave the next morning without a word to the poor girl." Skye shook her head, faint smile in place.
Sam, the one with longer hair, cocked his head to the side. "Has that happened to you before?"
She looked at him quizzically. "Oh, no. I watch a lot of movies on the weekends." The other one, Dean, from what she had gathered, looked at her intently, his deep green eyes holding a question. "What's on your mind?" She leaned one arm on the bar, taking a break to grab a bottle of beer from the bar. She popped the top and took a swig, waiting for an answer.
"Aren't you 18? Should you be drinking that?" Sam asked.
"Nobody cares. It's just one anyway."
Dean smiled more. "Sweetheart, I'd be careful if I were you, wouldn't want to get in trouble, now would we?"
Skye smiled right back, throwing down more beer. "I don't care about trouble."
"Ooh, a rebel. I love rebellious bartenders…" He winked at her.
"I'd stop if I were you, bud." She finished the bottle with a few big swigs, tossing it in the recycling bin behind her.
Folding his arms on the bar, he leaned forward a little bit. "Why's that, sweetheart?"
"I'll throw your ass out of here is why. What's your name anyway?"
"Why's it matter?"
She stared at him for a few seconds. "It'd be nice to tell my boss who I kicked out, just so you couldn't come back. Name?"
Dean chuckled. "Dean Winchester. Yours?"
"Skye Winchester. You must be my father."
Dean's smile faltered, then faded. He looked utterly confused. "What? How is that possible?"
"My mother, Heather Christianson, got knocked up by you in Kansas when she was 16. Said a guy named Dean Winchester is the father."
Dean blanched visibly, Sam patting his shoulder. "Um…well…shit. I mean…sorry?"
Skye grinned again. "Hey, it's all good. It's a badass name anyway."
Sam made a face that looked like he connected the pieces to some incredible puzzle. "Dean, remember when we were in Kansas with Dad, with the… the dog? And at the high school, you kept bragging that you had a girlfriend who was a year older? You were 15? Wasn't her name Heather?"
Dean's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah… oh god… that Heather? Ew… looking back she was a bitch."
Skye burst out laughing, making the Winchester's look at her funny. "She is such a bitch now! God, she is so bad…" She kept chuckling, taking away the glass mugs and washing them by hand in the sink.
The three conversed while Skye finished behind the bar and shut off the lights, the guys following her out the back door. "So, we can meet up somewhere tomorrow then? I don't have school, so if y'all are staying in town, we can… talk?" She scribbled her address on a sheet of scratch paper she grabbed from the bar.
"Uh, sure. Sounds good. What time? Is 11 am okay?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked the car. Skye whistled when she noticed it.
"Yeah that works for me. '67, right?" Dean grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, I'll see ya tomorrow then. Drive safe." Skye said as she climbed in her truck, firing up the cold engine.
Dean and Sam watched her drive off before they left the parking lot, heading to the motel. "Dude, what the hell… I have a daughter?" Dean asked his brother, still shocked by the news. That was not what they were expecting on their trip to Wisconsin.
Sam shrugged. "You did this to yourself. But she is pretty cool Dean. It seems that whoever raised her did a good job, from what we've seen tonight."
"Yeah, I guess you're right Sammy."
