Author Note: So this is a story that's been bouncing around my head and I figured I better get it out :) I haven't written fanfiction in a long time and this is my first Supernatural story. There's going to be some Dean/OC and some Destiel, so if you're cool with that, carry on... -Kathleen
Chapter 1 - Dead or Alive
She's my cherry pie
Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise
Tastes so good makes a grown man cry
Sweet cherry pie
Out of the hundreds of dive bars and strip joints Dean had been to over the years, he never got sick of this song. He grinned, taking a swig of his beer, eyes on the woman dancing on the bar in front of him. Tiny jean shorts, American flag halter, and cowboy boots.
Classic Americana.
Dean leaned back, content, enjoying the view and his drink. He and Sam had just finished a hunt that day and it would be a few more before they found another case. He'd dropped Sam off at the bunker and hit this bar, a few miles away, to blow off some steam.
I scream you scream
We all scream for her
Don't even try 'cause
You can't ignore her
The girl on the bar laughed, sliding off the bar and rejoining her friends. Dean caught the eye of the woman across the bar from him, who raised her shot glass with a smirk. She had long, mahogany hair that fell in curls around her shoulders and over the back of her leather jacket. Slamming back the shot, she stood, slightly unsteady, walking toward the jukebox. Dean saw a flash of silver as she turned.
A hunter?
Dean was surprised. There weren't many that he hadn't met in the area, but that was definitely a blade tucked against her hip.
He smiled as he heard the next song come on.
It's all the same, only the names will change
Everyday it seems we're wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home
He remembered that night with Sammy. That drive down to New Harmony, on what they thought would be Dean's last day on Earth. Bon Jovi rocks, on occasion, he had told Sam. He had been staring death in the face, but he wanted to leave his brother with something to hold onto.
'Cause I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
And what had followed... Forty years in hell, years of torture and inflicting pain on other souls... until Castiel had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.
Cas.
Dean ordered a shot from the bartender. "Leave the bottle."
Dean stumbled against the Impala and pulled open the door. He sank down into the seat, his vision spinning slightly.
"Nope," he muttered as he tossed the keys into the glove box. "Not happening." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a message to Sam.
Sleeping it off. Be home in the morning.
He threw the phone into the glove box next to his keys, slamming it shut and leaning back. Dean's head was spinning but at least his mind had shut the hell up. He looked up, out the window at the stars, and he thought of blue eyes, eyes like the heavens, eyes filled with stars...
"Goddamn son of a bitch!"
Dean jumped, looking out over the parking lot to see where the profanity was coming from. It sounded like some chick yelling at her boyfriend. Entertainment. Dean chuckled to himself. Sweet.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Around the corner came the hunter from earlier.
A gruff voice yelled from the bar. "Call a cab, sweetheart! Go home and sleep it off!"
The hunter walked past the Impala, still pissed but no longer yelling. "I don't live here, asshole!" She stopped at a beat-up Pontiac. "Come on, come on..." she muttered, pulling on the door handle. It didn't budge. "Fuck!" She kicked the front tire and turned around, leaning against the car. "Fuck."
Dean rolled down the window a crack. "You okay, there, darlin'?"
She seemed startled and her hand went in her jacket, no doubt holding the handle of her knife. She looked at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." She looked away, toward the bar. "The bartender took my keys. Told me to get a cab and come pick up my car in the morning. It's just... I don't live here. I don't know anyone around here and I was planning on crashing in my car for the night."
"That would explain the 'asshole' comment." Dean chuckled.
"Yeah." She pulled her leather jacket tight across her and crossed her arms.
"Maybe try a motel?" he offered.
She gave him a half-grin. "That would have been a great thought, had I not just drank the rest of my cash."
Dean looked behind him to the backseat, then back to her. He spoke despite his better judgment. "You, uh... you want to crash in the backseat?"
She looked at him warily. "It's... it's okay, you don't have to-"
"Seriously," Dean interrupted. He held up his hands. "No funny business or anything." He opened the door and stood up. The world spun a little and he blinked, then turned to the backseat, opening the door and shoving a couple of spare flannels off the seat. He saw an issue of Busty Asian Beauties and grinned, then stuffed it under the seat.
He turned back to her, motioning to the backseat. "See? It's not the Ritz, or anything, but it sure as hell beats the sidewalk."
She looked at him, quiet, considering. Finally, she nodded. "Okay." She stepped forward, looking him over and nodding again. "Thank you."
"Dean," he said, offering his hand.
She gave him a solid handshake, meeting his gaze. She was stronger than she looked, but that didn't surprise him. Her eyes were green and brown, with flecks of bronze that glinted in the moonlight. Dean realized he was staring and dropped his gaze. "I'm Riley."