Note: Because sometimes your friends make you write out that story you told years ago. Hopefully it's as good this time around as it was then...
Gator's
Dean stared blankly out the window as the rain fell steadily, making a mess of the already muddied parking lot. A blinking neon sign beside the road named the place Gator's and Dean watched as the colored lights reflected off the midnight paint of the Impala, which he just now noticed was the only car in the lot. He sipped at his coffee, stronger than he really liked it, but he wasn't going to complain too much, since he desperately needed the caffeine.
Another two hours on the road and he'd be there, though he wasn't looking forward to it. He didn't really want to finish this drive. Dean wiped a weary hand over his face and leaned his head back on the sticky vinyl of the booth. Bone tired, exhausted, whatever you chose to call it, that's how he felt. It wasn't about him, though, and he knew it.
Dean yawned and caught his mind starting to slide into sleep. He jerked himself awake, sloshing his, now warm, coffee over the table and onto his jeans. "Dammit." Dean grabbed a handful of napkins and blotted at the wetness on his thigh.
A low chuckle beside the table brought his eyes up from his lap. The waitress stood beside him, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, which probably lessened the lines on her late middle-aged face, but not by much.
Dean gave her a smirk and shrugged as he gestured out the window, "Don't know why I'm bothering. It's not like I'm going to stay dry, huh?"
The waitress, Beth according to her nametag, set a plate of food on the table in front of him. "No, not tonight," Beth looked sadly out the window, "I hate nights like these." She shivered and then her smile slid back into place. "Terrible night to be travelling."
Dean glanced outside and then back, nodding, "Yeah, it really is." Dean looked up at the clock above the counter in front of the kitchen and frowned, knowing it wasn't even close to five, AM or PM. He motioned to it, "You know what time it really is?" Dean asked as he upended the ketchup bottle over his fries.
Beth glanced at the clock and smiled, "That thing's been broken for years. For the life of me, I don't know why ole Carl just doesn't replace it." She shook her head, "He seems to think that since it's part of the original diner it's gotta stay." Beth raised her hand and waved it around the empty diner, "Honestly, not much worth holding onto around here. This place's seen better days."
Dean stabbed a couple of fries into the mound of ketchup and folded them into his mouth as he glanced around. The diner looked almost identical to the last half dozen all night dives he'd eaten in recently. Grease coating every flat surface, so thick it was like another layer of wax on the floor. Torn vinyl booths, scratched plastic tabletops and plastic coated menus rounded out the look. Hell, even the waitresses had that used up look about them. Dean nodded, and picked up the club sandwich Beth had recommended over the burger. "So, you have the time?"
Beth laughed, "Oh, sure honey." She pulled an old pocket watch from the beneath her apron and pressed the small button that released the top. "Well, it's later than I figured." She clicked the watch closed, "I've only got a couple more hours till my shift's over and I can't tell you how happy that makes me." She turned to go and then paused, "I almost forgot your soda." She reached out and put her hand on Dean's shoulder, "I'll be right back with it."
Dean watched her move toward the kitchen and raised the sandwich to his mouth, "Still don't know the freaking time…" he mumbled under his breath just before he took a bite of the sandwich and almost moaned in appreciation. The bacon was perfect.
Beth returned to his table with a coke in one hand and a small plate in the other. She set the glass down and then slid the plate across the table. "Sorry about forgetting your drink, honey. This here's the last piece of cherry pie of the day. Made it myself this morning, so I know it's good." She winked at him and then moved back to the kitchen.
Dean's eyes lit up as he smiled wide around a mouthful of bacon, turkey and ham, "'Ank you."
Beth waved her hand over her shoulder, "Just enjoy it."
Dean finished dinner, alternating between fries and sandwich. He pushed the plate to the end of the table and then pulled the cherry pie closer while he picked up his fork. Dean loaded his fork with cherry pie, the filling oozing out and falling back onto the plate and then he tasted it. This time Dean did moan. He heard Beth's chuckle as she suddenly appeared and refilled his coffee cup.
"Good isn't it?"
Dean nodded, savoring the taste. He swallowed and then took a sip of the coffee, still too strong. "Heavenly." Dean smiled up at the older woman and winked, "Best I've had in forever."
Beth blushed, "Aren't you too sweet."
"I'm not trying to be nice, seriously, best pie in…well, really it's very good." Dean lifted another bite to his mouth and nodded when the sweetly tart goodness exploded on his tongue. The crust so perfect it almost melted.
Beth smiled and wandered back to the kitchen.
Dean missed the nervous glance she shot at the clock above the counter.
Dean finished his pie and sat back, sipping at his coffee as he waited for his check. It had been several minutes since he'd seen Beth, or even heard anything from the kitchen. In fact, Dean suddenly realized it was eerily quiet. No sound other than the sound of him moving his cup across the table and moving against the orange vinyl beneath him.
A sudden chill shot down his spine and instinctively Dean reached for the Colt tucked in his jeans. He didn't pull the gun, but the weight of it against his hand was reassuring. The bell above the door jangled and Dean turned to look over his shoulder at the door and he watched as a group of people began to file into the diner.
A glance out the window and he noticed a bus in the pitted gravel of the parking lot. He turned back in his seat, hand returning to the table as he surveyed the counter. Several men and a couple had found seats along the counter and Beth was there chatting and taking orders. The small diner was now almost packed. Dean shook his head thankful that he'd beat the crowd.
Dean dropped a five on the table and smiled as he headed to the end of the counter, so he could pay and leave. He stood by the old cash register and looked down the counter, hoping to get Beth's attention. His eyes drifted to the clock above the counter and he saw the second hand moving. Dean narrowed his eyes. The clock read eleven thirty.
Note:
When this story was first told it wasn't a Supernatural story...I adapted it. Honestly, it was a simply a story told over several days to a friend and her daughter who were in the hospital at the time, after a really bad car accident. I never wrote it down and it's been years since then, so hopefully it turns out like it should. Lacy, if you show up here you better review it...or else ;)
Reviews are like chocolate.