**** I do not own any of the characters/storylines from the show!
**** I DO own Lissa Sawyer
John walked into the Roadhouse late one evening. Ellen knew he was in town and had called him to come down, said there was an urgent matter that had come up.
Ellen rested her hands on the bar top as John approached her.
The look on Ellen's face made him uneasy.
"What's wrong?" He eyed her, trying to read her face.
"We...we uh,... have a bit of a problem."
His gaze hardened. "I got that, what the hell is going on?" His voice deepened.
"Well, she won't tell me exactly what...but I'm sure I can venture a damn guess."
Ellen clears her throat as she hands him a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter. She nods her head behind her at the furthest stool at bar.
John's eyes follow and his heart nearly stops. His gaze lands on brunette hair that he remembers all too well. The way it feels running between his fingers, falling around him. His gaze snaps back to Ellen. Her eyes full of heartache and fury.
John made his way quickly around bar, stepping between her and the next stool. Her hair was covering the right half of her face as she glanced up at him. Her green eyes widened and she quickly looked back down at her whiskey. She picked up her glass and it slightly shook from her trembling hands. In one swift motion she tilted her head back and downed the drink, slamming the glass back to the bar top.
"...John." Her velvet voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper as she grabbed the whiskey bottle from his hands, popping the cork with her teeth and refilling her glass.
"Lissa...you alright?" John's voice was steady as he tried to gauge her emotions. He'd never seen her like this.
She glanced up at him again, bringing a hand up to move her hair so it covered more of her face. Something caught his eye as he noticed the beginning of hand-print bruises on her forearm.. . and the remnants of blood stains and defensive marks on her hands.
John slowly reached over and moved her hair out of her face. She stilled... Frozen.
With her hair tucked behind her ear he gets a full view of a swollen and deep purple black eye and bruising down the side of her delicate face and jaw.
"Jesus Christ, Liss." His breath hitched as he took her head gently in his hands, forcing her to face him as he inventoried her injuries.
She flinched away and retreated from his touch.
"You don't need to worry about me John."
"Like hell! Did he do this?!" Voice booms and couple of hunters look over as the bar quiets.
She felt numb. No tears. No sobbing. Nothing. Her lip quivered slightly as she looked up at John and sighed.
"He was in my hotel room. I had cut it off with him a month ago. He was on a bender." She took another drink and a deep breath. "I told him to get out. That's when he grabbed me and-" her voice trailed off.
John was livid with rage. "He hit you." He seethed as he clenched his fists at his sides.
Lissa struggled to hold John's gaze, knowing full well what her next words would unleash. "He-...he didn't just hit me, John." She said quietly and dropped her gaze back to the bar top.
John's demeanor changed to pure fury as he took in what she just said. "What?!"
She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah. You heard right. Badass Lissa Sawyer can't fend off a damn drunk human from raping her." With that she took the whiskey bottle and gulped straight from it.
John unclenched fists and steadied himself. Rage coursing through his veins.
"Where is he?"
Lissa swiveled the stool to look straight at him. She knew this would happen one day. The mighty John Winchester would swoop in out of nowhere and try to save the day. After everything they'd been through. After how much he'd hurt her when he left last year... "This is the time you choose to show your feelings for me?! When I'm a 'damsel in distress'?!" She holds his gaze for a moment. She's angry. Furious. Hurt... but she knows John better than anyone. He cares for her and always had, just had a hell of a way of showing it at times. Nothing fazed in his stance. She didn't have to ask to know what his thoughts were...rapists and any man that raises a hand to a woman were no different than the monsters they hunted.
He waited for her outburst of emotion to settle before he spoke again. "Lissa...where is the bastard?"
She tore her gaze from him. "I-" She stuttered and took another drag of whiskey, looking straight at the bottles across bar from her. "...I killed him."