I have been tracking the elusive Winchester brothers for months now and every time I seem to catch a break, they manage to evade me. Well, not purposely anyway, the public bus system cannot really compete with the Impala. This time however, their current job has taken a convenient turn for the terrible and they are stuck in Peoria, Arizona for a few more days. The Winchesters are famous in the hunter world; absolute legends. Though I suppose they wouldn't know since they don't exactly keep up with the grapevine. Hunters are fantastic with gossips, I can tell you that. It's like one big community full of preteen girls who have nothing better to do than talk about each other. Anyway, I hopped on the first bus to Phoenix, then found a wonderful newlywed couple and rode with them a short distance to Peoria. Make no mistake, I am no Winchester fangirl who wants them to autograph my boobs or anything, there's only one thing I want with the Winchesters, I just hope that they can help me.
The neon light of the vacancy sign stun my eyes, forcing them to adjust quickly.
"Are you sure you'll be okay, sweetie? Do you need any money for the motel?" The wife, Elizabeth was her name, peered out of the window on the passengers side of the car.
It did not appear to be the worst motel that I have ever slept in, but it's 60's themed decorum definitely ranked high in cheesiness.
"No, I think I will be fine. Thank you so much for the ride and enjoy your honeymoon."
With a slightly worried expression, Elizabeth watched me as Derek, the husband, peeled out of the motel parking lot.
The floor of the lobby was grimy and the plastic box that surrounded the receptionist's desk was covered in a foggy layer of scum.
"Hi. I need one room for the night. King bed, please."
"Alright pretty lady, that'll be 45 dollars."
I pulled out my wallet, a brown leather man's wallet which I had for it's practicality, and fished out the money.
"I am also looking for these two guys. Brothers, one almost a head taller than the other, kind of dressed like lumber jacks. Could you tell me what room they are in?"
"I don't know, honey. Can I?"
The man's smile was yellow and his front tooth was missing. It was disgusting, him hitting on a 16-year old. I grabbed another 20 bucks out of my wallet.
"Hun, this twenty has your name all over it."
I waved it in front of the window. Since he was a sleazy motel employee I figured that the 20 dollars would be a sufficient bribe. I slid the bill underneath the barrier. He told me "Room 28" and I gathered my bags to go.
"Who the hell are you?"
Dean, the oldest of the pair, answered the door. His mild-manerness, blunt forcefulness, and his attractions to anyone of the opposite sex encompassed his reputation. He seemed like the master of tacky pick-up lines.
"My name is Stephanie Kent, a hunter like you. I have been meaning to meet you guys."
"Kent? Like Clark Kent?"
"Yes, dumb ass, like Superman. Now, may I come in? It is hot as balls out here."
"Whatever, princess."
He stepped aside, obviously sizing me up. He must have assumed me to be just a harmless teenage girl. That was his first mistake.
'I'm Dean" he gestured to another man on top of one of the queen beds, "That's Sam."
"I'm Stephanie, call me Steph."
Sam got up off the pastel comforter to shake my hand.
"So Steph, what brings you here?"
"My boyfriend, he's a hunter too. He disappeared a couple of months ago without a trace. I was hoping the famous Winchesters could help me."
"So you just need us to find your boyfriend?"
"Yep. And who better for the job than the living legends themselves."
Dean scoffed, "'Legends'. You hear that, Sammy? Seems like we have a reputation." He waltzed over to the chair I was sitting in and knelt down beside me. "No offense, sweetie, but even if we decide to help you out, what makes you think that you can handle hunting with us? How old are you, twelve?"
That was his second mistake.
"Heh," I chuckled, amused. "You underestimate me." I drew my dark brown into tight ponytail and gently blew my bangs out of my eyes.
In a spilt second, I punched Dean, maybe a little bit too roughly, with my palm, sending his chin flying upwards. He became off balance enough for me to trip and pin him to the floor. I planted one shin on the small of his back and the other between his thighs. My hand brushed over the gun tucked into the waistband of my jeans and I aimed it directly at Sam's forehead, all before he could compose himself enough to get himself enough to get his own weapon.
"Pretty damn sure I know what I'm doing. I was raised this way, this life is all I know." I smirked, "I'm sixteen by the way."
"Dean, you just got your ass handed to you by a teenage girl."
"Shut the hell up, Sam."
Sam started snickering, as did I, then I lifted my gun up as a sign of peace and stuck it back into my pants. Sam helped me hoist Dean off the ground, who was now a sore, moaning mess.
"Oh don't be such a priss, I didn't even hit you that hard." He gave me a dirty look which I returned with a smile and raised eyebrows, challenging him to take his best shot. He just shook his head, unsurprised by my cockiness. "Have you guys eaten? How about dinner, on me?"
We all hopped into the Impala and drove down the road to find a simple Mom and Pop dinner. It's interior was also very retro, but far cleaner than the motel. Sam ordered a chicken salad and I decided on a hamburger, stacked high with bacon and onion rings.
"I like your style, kid." Dean grinned at me and told the waitress he wanted the same. When she excused herself to place the orders, he took it upon himself to initiate the conversation. "Where are you from?"
"Louisiana. Baton Rouge. I speak Creole, but I usually try and hide the twang."
"Why?" Sam inquired.
"Because," I gave Sam a smile,"I'm a hunter and hunters gotta be untraceable. An accent is a characteristic that can be used to identify me. If I speak like an everyday American no one will think twice."
"Eh, pretty smart kid."
"Yeah my dad taught me everything I know. Hey, you might know him actually, I think he was a friend of your father's. His name was Caleb. Caleb Kent."
Their faces furrowed in concentration. Dad's name was obviously familiar to them. It was Sam who was the first to fully remember.
"Dean, Caleb was Meg's-"
"Second, I remember now."
"Oh my God, Steph I'm so sorry."
I waved my hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, Sam. I've already made my peace with it and with that demon bitch who killed him. Heard it was you two that put her down."
"Yeah, we did. Her name was Meg."
"Well thanks then. Besides, Dad always said he was preparing me for Death to come knocking on our front door for him. I just suppose it came sooner rather than later."
Right then, the waitress came back with our food. We ate in comfortable silence, which was only interrupted by the soft sounds of chewing. After we finished, I left the cash for the meal plus tip on the tabletop.
"How do you make your money?" Dean was starring at the well worn wallet in my hands. In the corner of it was a darker spot that had soaked into the leather, a bloodstain.
"The same way you make your's I'm guessing." I folded the wallet back up and stuck it in a pocket in the back of my jeans. "Pickpocketing and credit card fraud."
Dean shook his head, mildly impressed. When we got back to the motel, we agreed that I would meet them in their room in the morning to discuss the business that they still had here in Arizona and my missing boyfriend. Sam handed me his motel room key, in case anything happened during the night and I programmed both of their phone numbers into my cell phone. I headed back to my room to take a well deserved shower. I allowed the water to flow through my hair for a good 15 minutes before exiting to dress for bed. I pulled out a simple grey tank top and black sweatpants from my suitcase to change into. The sweatpants were a bit big on me, so I tucked my shirt in and tied the drawstrings into a tight bow. The mattress was firm, the way I preferred them, and once I was under the sheets it wasn't long before I feel asleep with the comfort of my pistol hidden underneath my pillow.
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