October, 2005

Payson, AZ

The jukebox clicked over to the next song, a Zeppelin favorite of the young man sitting at the bar, but it was completely lost on him, as were the appreciative glances he was getting from the only waitress in the dive he had settled on for a pit stop. His brow furrowed over clear green eyes as he listened to the cell phone at his ear continue to ring.

"This is John Winchester-"

Dean cursed under his breath and waited for the inevitable tone. "Dad, it's me. Again. It's been a stretch, even for you. Look, I'm worried enough now that I'm on my way to get Sammy. Unless you want me to pull the Golden Boy out of school, call me back."

Snapping the phone shut, he ran a hand through his short, dark hair and along his well-defined jaw before taking a generous swig from his recently-refreshed double whiskey, looking over his map again. If I cut myself off after this drink and drive hard, I can be there before lunch tomorrow. He tapped a pen against his full lips and considered his remaining drive.

The waitress walked past him on her way to one of the few occupied tables, and the whiff he caught from the burgers on her tray reminded him he had forgotten to eat since doughnuts and coffee somewhere in the middle of Texas. On the other hand, Sammy's not going anywhere, and what's one more day after four years…

He thought about it as he folded up the map. Taking another healthy sip from his drink, an annoying little voice in Dean's mind piped up for the hundredth time that day: Right, staying for the gourmet cuisine and atmosphere. Not avoiding dealing with your brother at all, are you? Dean told the voice to stop being a whiny bitch, drained the last of his whiskey, and was about to get the waitress's attention when someone hopped into the seat to his left. A quick glance sent all thoughts of food right out of his head and had Dean going back for a second, longer look.

The lighting in the bar wasn't great, but she had somehow managed to sit exactly where it highlighted her features to their fullest. It brought out the red in her strawberry blonde locks, cut shorter than Dean usually preferred, but in the choppy style he associated with rock music and tramp stamps (always good things in his mind). He watched with interest as she pursed full rosy lips, whistled at the bartender, smiled, and leaned forward slightly to reel him in. One glance at the creamy cleavage framed by the multitude of undone buttons at the top of her shirt and the bartender nearly tripped over himself to serve her. Dean didn't blame him one bit.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked her chest.

The woman looked over at Dean, considering him and his empty glass with a quick thoroughness that left him feeling as though those deep blue eyes now knew everything about him, down to the hole in his sock. She smiled in a way that sent shivers down his spine, then turned back to the bartender.

"I'll have what he's having. Oh, and bring him another one. In fact, leave the bottle."

Dean gave her an inquisitive look. "What?" she asked, "I feel like getting hammered, and I refuse to drink by myself."

Dean considered this for a second. He wasn't generally averse to buying a beautiful woman drinks, especially one who seemed so right up his alley, and he was going through a bit of a dry spell...but he had more important things he should be worrying about at the moment. He opened his mouth to turn her down, but she cut him off with two of his favorite words in the English language: "I'm buying."

"You heard the lady."

She beamed at him, then turned her charms back to the bartender.

"Coming right up," the bartender replied.

"Thank you…" He felt a patented Dean Winchester charming smile slide across his face as he turned to completely face the generous stranger.

"Karma," she responded, and leaned towards the bar to pull a small wad of bills out of the back pocket of her delightfully short denim skirt. She peeled off a combination of fives and ones and passed them to the bartender in exchange for her glass and the mostly-full bottle of whiskey. Dean almost laughed as he poured their drinks, double for him, single for her.

"Your name's Karma and you're paying with small bills? Wild guess, here, you're a-"

"Waitress," she said firmly. The directness of Karma's gaze and the arch of one pale eyebrow dared him to finish his original thought. "And no need to be shy-feel free to pour yourself more…" She snatched the fuller glass and raised it to toast.

"Dean," he said, his smile getting wider. This one's got balls in the best possible way, he added more to the remaining glass and clinked it against hers. Dean took a sip of his whiskey and bent his attention to considering his companion more deeply. The red hair, blue eyes, & buckets of attitude were already enough of a draw for him. Coupled with her great rack, short skirt, and black knee-high boots, she was damn near irresistible. Sticking around a little longer was looking very promising.

He lifted his gaze and Karma locked eyes with him, slowly bringing the glass to her lips and tossing it back smoothly, draining the whiskey in a single gulp. She licked her lips and shook herself; his mouth went dry. "Whew, I needed that," she breathed, setting her glass down and motioning him for a refill.

"Rough day?"

She barely waited for Dean to finish pouring before snatching back her drink. "You could say that. Just acquired another ex-boyfriend today."

"Cheater?"

Karma's smile was very warm. "No one's that dumb. What he is is dumb enough to try to clean out my bank accounts, but apparently smart enough to make off with my car. The money thing's annoying, but the car…" Her smile faded. "It was my dad's. A Shelby, one of the originals. He taught me how to work on cars on that baby. When he had a stroke and needed to go into a home, I would visit and take him for drives all the time. After he died, I kept it up, mostly to feel close to him."

The sadness on her face made Dean suddenly feel very strongly like he wanted to track down and work over her ex. She must have realized how vulnerable she looked, because Karma shook herself a little, downed the rest of her drink, and wiggled the empty glass at him. "I think what's really burning my ass is that I let him snow me completely into thinking he wasn't an enormous dick."

Chuckling, Dean refilled both of their glasses. "Don't beat yourself up. A lot of people think they're good judges of character."

Karma looked directly at him. "You don't get it, Dean. Reading people is my thing and I am never wrong."

I might regret this. "Oh, really? What about me?" Dean asked.

Another arched eyebrow, another challenge. "You sure?"

Dean drained his drink, set the glass on the bar, shook his shoulders out, settled his forearms on his knees, and smirked. "Go ahead. Hit me with your best shot, sweetheart."

"You asked for it." Karma settled into a posture that mirrored his, and Dean made a concerted effort to maintain eye contact despite the enhanced view he was now privy to. He suddenly had the feeling that those very blue eyes were seeing through him, weighing him, and Dean was strangely very concerned that he wasn't going to measure up. Probably going to regret this.

Taking a deep breath, Karma spoke in a very matter-of-fact tone, as though there was no doubt in her mind that she would be anything other than one-hundred percent accurate. "Your whole bad-ass vibe is completely legit. You've seen things, you've done things-you've earned it. The kicker, though, is that you can switch it off completely if you want to-blend in, pass for average. You do it convincingly, but it doesn't feel right to you."

Way past probably and into definitely. Awesome.

Karma continued. "You have the charisma to light up a room and make panties drop-both of which you manage as often as suits your needs-but you don't have many significant friends. There's only a few people you are really close to, and even with them, you're not comfortable sharing certain things: feelings, doubts, anything that might be seen as a chink in your armor. But you do feel things, deeply, which is more evident to people than you might think and part of why they are drawn to you." She picked up her drink and smiled. "How did I do?"

Without looking, Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle and in one move bypassed both the glass and her question. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and asked, "Anything else?" before bringing the bottle back up for another swig.

"Yeah." Karma answered, putting her whiskey down. She smiled in that shiver-inducing way again and leaned closer to him. "I know for certain you have likable abs."

Dean choked a little as he swallowed, then felt himself smirk again, confidence restored. "Really? What makes you say that?"

"Here and here," she said, touching him lightly on his collarbone and his forearm. "In my experience, good definition in a couple of key areas means good definition everywhere." Her look was still direct, and there was an edge of hunger to it now. "Am I right?"

Slowly, Dean slid off the bar stool and, holding her gaze, lifted the hem of his shirt a few inches. Blue eyes still locked on green, Karma slowly licked her lips, slid down off of her stool, and placed the fingertips of her right hand against his bare skin. His muscles jumped under her touch, and she teasingly drew her hand down his stomach, slipped her fingers behind the edge of his waistband, and pulled him against her. Although she was a head shorter than him, Dean had the feeling that he couldn't have broken free of her. Seeing the look in her eyes, he was sure he didn't really care.

"You got a place we can go?" Karma asked.

It was Dean's turn to arch an eyebrow. "You're moving fast. Rebounding a little hard?"

Her low chuckle quickened his pulse and tightened something in his groin. "Those guys at the other end of the bar? They know my ex."

Unable to keep the surprise from his face, Dean asked, "You're not even going to pretend this wouldn't be revenge sex?"

That same laugh again, and she pulled him even closer. Dean was certain she could now tell just how very into her he was. "Oh, please, Dean. You obviously don't care. In fact, I'm your Holy-freaking-Grail. No worries about spending the whole night, making awkward breakfast plans, pretending you'll call me. Just some wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am and we both go on our way. Work for you?"

It didn't take Dean long to decide. "My car's outside."

"It have a backseat?"

"Sure does."

"Perfect." That shiver-smile again, and she turned to leave without looking back, not doubting for a second that he would follow.

And why would she? Dean stuffed his map in his back pocket and headed out the door after her.

She was standing in the middle of the parking lot, considering the vehicles in her view. He took a moment to admire her from the back before coming up close behind her.

"Figure out which one's mine?" he asked, sliding an arm around her waist and nuzzling her neck. A subtle floral, woodsy smell filled his nostrils, almost as intoxicating as the whiskey.

He felt her chuckle as a slight vibration in her small frame where it was pressed against him; he liked it. "Yes, actually. Badass, not from around here, car with a backseat-it's not brain surgery. You're the classic Chevy at the back of the lot." She turned quickly around in his embrace and skimmed her hands up his chest and around his neck, that smile once again on her face. "Which kinda makes you my Holy Grail, Dean. With my dad's car and everything, I'm sure some shrink would have a field day, but old muscle cars…" She inhaled deeply and bit her lower lip. "Man, they do something to me."

Dean silently thanked his dad for leaving the Impala behind as he brought his mouth down to meet hers, and he couldn't help but groan as she opened to him. Karma tasted like the whiskey they'd shared, warm and rich. He slid both hands up the smooth skin of her back, pulling her closer as their kiss intensified.

After way too short a time for Dean's liking, Karma pulled back just far enough to break contact. When he leaned in to re-engage, she gently laid a finger on his lips. "Dean, as bad as I want you right now, I'm not much for public displays of eroticism. Car, now."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the Chevy. When they got to the car, she leaned against it and pulled him close.

"Keys?"

He started to reach into his front jeans pocket, but she stopped him. "Allow me," she said as she reached much further into his pocket than was strictly necessary. Dean closed his eyes and enjoyed himself while Karma teasingly took her time retrieving the keys. By the time she finally pulled them out, he was practically breathless. He snatched his keys from Karma, unlocked the car, and opened the back door with lightning speed.

"In a hurry, are-" Dean cut her short with a searing kiss. He felt her smile against his mouth, and suddenly he was being pushed into the car so quickly that he nearly banged his head on the roof. He looked up and saw naked desire in Karma's eyes as she climbed on top of him and pulled the door shut behind her. Straddling his hips, she made short work of the few fastened buttons on her shirt and quickly revealed how little she was wearing underneath.

Sticking around tonight is the smartest thing I've done in a while. Dean smiled and pulled Karma down for another steamy embrace.


Dean started awake as he heard banging behind him. He sat up quickly, then regretted that deeply when his head throbbed angrily. Massaging his forehead with one hand, he turned his neck slowly to see a state trooper smiling at him through his car window.

"Sir, can you pull up your pants and step out of the vehicle?" the officer asked with amusement.

Confused, Dean looked down. What the hell... His shirt was hanging over the front seat, his pants were bunched at his ankles, and he had only a very vague idea how either happened. Cursing under his breath, he hauled his pants up and got out of the car, grabbing his shirt on the way. Dean faced the cop and nearly cursed again when he saw how close to laughing the guy was.

"What can I do for you, Officer?" he asked while pulling on his t-shirt.

"Name?"

"Dean Winchester."

"Got some ID, son?"

"Yeah, right here," Dean said, reaching for his back pocket to grab his wallet. Empty. "One second." He turned back to the Impala and saw it on the floor in the backseat. As he reached down, Dean caught sight of bare wrist where his watch should have been. "Son of a bitch!"

"Uh, 'scuse me?"

Dean snatched up his wallet and opened it. All the cards were still there but his cash was gone. "She cleaned me out?" he asked in an incredulous tone. Suddenly seized with panic, his hand flew to his neck, but he quickly relaxed as he felt the familiar God's-head pendant still where it belonged.

Suddenly the trooper was all business. "Can you tell me what happened last night?"

Concentration furrowed Dean's brow, but no matter how hard he tried, he was only able to remember bits and pieces. "I was at the bar, there was a chick, we had some drinks..."

"You have a name? Description?"

Between the headache and the black holes, very little of consequence was coming back to him. "Candy...Cassidy...no, Karma; didn't catch a last name. Blonde-no, redhead...short, definitely stacked...damnit!"

The trooper looked up from his notepad and asked, "You alright?"

"No...Yeah...I'll be fine. Just really not liking the holes in my head."

Putting his pad away, the cop stepped close to Dean. "Hold still, son." He checked Dean's eyes. "You and this mystery chick hit the bottle hard?"

"I've gone on benders twice as vicious and remembered everything. No clue what's going on here."

He took his notepad out again. "Sounds like you were drugged there, Dean. Happens sometimes. Pretty young thing chats up a guy, slips him something, he wakes up the next morning with Swiss-cheese-memory and a lighter wallet."

Dean was taken aback at that. "You saying I got roofied?"

The officer nodded. "Probably want to head over to the hospital, get yourself checked out."

Shaking his head, Dean moved back towards the car. "I'll be fine-brain didn't really work that well anyway. If it's all the same to you, I've got somewhere to be, Officer."

"You want to file a complaint?"

He considered for a moment, but-pissed as he was-more time with law enforcement wasn't going to improve his situation or his mood any. "Thanks, but I think I'm just going to call this a lesson learned and get the hell out of here."

"Suit yourself," the trooper replied. "Just try to get yourself into a motel or something next time, ok?"

Dean was fairly certain the cop was going to be laughing about him for a while, but thanked him anyway, got in the car with the last shreds of his pride, and headed out to hunt down breakfast before continuing on to California and Sam.