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A Ghost of a Chance
Chapter 1
Dean drove through the night, head throbbing and eyes grainy and swollen from lack of sleep. He and Sam had put so much effort into dealing with Dick Roman and his legion of leviathans with very little to show for it. He needed a break, badly. That's what this weekend was about, him and Sam going their separate ways for the weekend and getting some well-deserved R&R.
Finding out for sure that Bobby was a spirit was almost more that Dean could bear. Although he missed Bobby, there was just nothing good that could come of this. All spirits go vengeful eventually, all of them. Dean wasn't sure which hurt more, the fact that Bobby had been taken from them or the fact that he was going to have to eventually take Bobby out. Some day's life sucks more than others, he thought.
"Well to hell with all that crap!" Dean shouted out the window of the car. "I'm heading to the middle of nowhere and I'm OFF this weekend!" He rolled up the window and mumbled to the road ahead "No hunting of any kind for me this weekend."
He had no destination in mind. Just driving until he had the urge to stop at a bar that had copious amounts of alcohol and a decent bacon cheeseburger. No hunters, no job, nothing to remind him of all the pain and suffering he's had to deal with over the years.
He had driven so long that he no longer knew what state he was in, much less if there was a town nearby. He was getting extremely tired so started paying more attention to the road signs and when he saw the amenities sign for the next exit that showed food and lodging.
"As good a place as any." Dean said as he turned on the blinker and headed up the exit ramp. He turned right at the stop sign, not even paying attention to the name of the town. He didn't recognize it as a place he'd ever been so didn't care what it was called. He just needed to get some sleep and do some forgetting, even if it was only for a day or two.
Doing a quick lap of town, he located a motel that was located reasonably close to the establishments that would suit his needs. "Well, first things first." he thought, as he parked in the lot behind the motel. "I'm not doing anything until I have a few hours of sleep."
The sun was just creeping above the horizon as he checked in to the motel under the alias Steve Clark. He had created this one, based on the Def Leppard guitarist of the same name, just in case he ever wanted to do exactly what he was doing now while still sticking with the rock name motif. It was a common enough name that no hunter, or leviathan for that matter, should connect it to him. Especially since there was nothing supernatural that he was aware of going on in this area.
He paid no attention whatsoever to the room except to locate the bed. He didn't even bother undressing or pulling the sheets back. He simply locked the door then collapsed onto the bed, falling almost immediately into a deep sleep.
He awoke with a start, noticing with surprise that the sun had already gone down. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had slept for close to twelve hours solid. Three to five hour naps were the norm with the occasional lazy day where he actually got six or more hours of sleep. He also couldn't remember ever feeling like he had been beaten all over with a baseball bat, except after most hunts anyway.
He turned and looked at the bed "Oh, that explains it," said Dean as he noticed the bare bed. He had apparently thrashed so much in his sleep that he had even managed to knock off the fitted sheet.
He shrugged off the condition of the bed. Not like he hasn't had more than his fair share of nightmares, small wonder. Taking a quick shower and getting into relatively clean cloths, he got ready to find something to eat. He was famished and wasn't out to impress anyone. Much to his own surprise, at the moment, he had no desire at all to try for a hook-up. All he wanted to do was to get some food in his belly and then tie on one hell of a drunk.
The local bar advertised that food was available so he went in to see if it measured up. If the food looked passable he would stay, otherwise there was a mom and pop restaurant just down the street.
He walked in to find it a small but comfortable and well kept looking place. As he walked to an open table he saw several people eating what appeared to be quit appetizing meals. His stomach growled audibly as the smell of the food hit him. He sat down and a waitress came to his table immediately.
"Sounds like you got here just in time!" she said teasingly.
"Overslept," he said sheepishly. "So you heard that?"
"From five feet away," she replied. "My name is Sally, and I will be your server tonight. Do you need a menu?"
"No thanks," said Dean. "Just give me a bacon cheeseburger, an order of fries, and have another one being prepared as soon as the first one is up."
"Gotta love a man with an appetite!" said Sally with just a hint of flirtation. "Anything to drink with that?"
"All things considered I should probably start with soda. But I would appreciate a beer before the second plate comes out," said Dean, ignoring the opportunity to flirt back.
"Suit yourself," said Sally, a bit insulted by the way her flirtation was squashed. As she walked away, she looked back and noticed how he looked so exhausted. No, she reassessed, not exhausted but beat down and on the edge of defeat.
She came back in a matter of minutes with his soda and fries. "Burger will be up soon but I thought you might need something right away so rushed the fries out."
"Thanks," said Dean, the sincerity in his voice, the slouch of his shoulders, and the way he tore into the fries with gusto made her realize that he was just too physically and emotionally exhausted to even realize that he had slighted her. Not that she was a psychologist or anything, but in order to have any success in this type of job you have to be able to read your customers mood.
She brought him his burger and beer at the same time. He grunted the universal "My mouth's full but thank you" that waitresses quickly learn to understand and smiled almost boyishly at her. She smiled back and walked away to help other customers, not wanting to push her luck. Not that she was easy by any stretch of the imagination, but something about this guy piqued her interest. He might be down but he wasn't out, not yet anyway. Not too shabby on the eyes either.
Dean tore into the burger, demolishing it in a matter of minutes. Sally brought the second burger and fries and Dean thanked her, and then dug right in. And that's how the night went for several hours, she would bring him his order and he would ignore her and everyone else in the bar. Sometimes she would try to start a conversation but he would politely but quickly shut her down.
Around midnight, soon after bringing Dean his tenth or so beer, Sally walked over to his table and sat down. Dean looked at her, a confused look on his face, and started to speak.
"Shut up," she said, her tone softening the harsh words. "I've been trying to make conversation with you all night and you have been ignoring me completely. I'm not used to that."
"I'm not up for conversation. I just want to be left to my thoughts," said Dean.
"Bull shit!" she said, all but glaring at Dean. "Something is eating you alive and if you don't talk about it then it will consume you. Don't try to con me, I know the tells."
"You don't say," said Dean starting to puff up a bit. "Maybe all I'm trying to do is protect you and all these people from me! I have done some REALLY heinous things in my day and there are worse to come."
"You have no idea what it means to do bad things" said Sally, hanging her head. "I've done….bad things," her voice getting quieter as she spoke. "I don't know why I'm telling you this but something tells me I can trust you. I've only been out of prison for two years."
She hung her head, refusing to make eye contact. Dean started to speak but she cut him off.
"No. Let me finish, you need to hear the whole story. When I was around 19 I had…issues. I had a rather serious drug problem. Didn't care how I got my next fix and certainly didn't care if I hurt anyone doing it. A few petty thefts, a mugging or two."
She looked up and met Dean's eyes. He nodded at her to go on, not bothering to speak. "And going by his eyes, not bothering to judge either" she thought.
"Anyway, I eventually really screwed up and killed someone. It was an accident but it was my fault. Got 12 years for involuntary manslaughter, still have 2 years to go on Parole. So, what do you think? Can you top that?"
Dean looked at her then started to giggle almost hysterically. She glared at him and started to stand up. Dean grabbed her hand almost gently.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Please sit down."
She sat down grudgingly but continued to glare at Dean.
Dean looked at her, seeing how much he had hurt her. "Ok, I call your murder and raise you an apocalypse," said Dean
Sally looked at him quizzically, feeling betrayed and insulted by his comment. She opened her mouth to speak.
"No," Dean cut her off. "My turn for the truth, but this is gonna require a bit of privacy and a whole lot of understanding on your part. I take it you're off the clock?"
"Yes," said Sally, feeling a bit nervous.
"Let me walk you home then," said Dean, "and I will explain it on the way."
"And what makes you think I want you to walk me home, much less know where I live?" she asked. The laughter and apocalypse comment had put her a bit on edge.
"Fair enough," said Dean. "I tell you what, I'm gonna go for a walk before heading back to my motel. Join me or not, it's your choice. But in case you choose not to join me please understand that I had no intention of hurting your feelings, I am dangerous but not to you, and I was completely serious when I mentioned the apocalypse."
After saying that, Dean simply turned and headed for the door. He downed the last of his beer as he walked, setting the empty on the end of the bar as he walked by, and never looked back to see if she followed.