"So, you think we're dealing with a shtriga, huh?" Dean Winchester asked his father in reference to the hunt that they were currently on, leaning back in the crappy, broken motel chair he was seated in and crossing his arms.
John looked up from the cup of coffee in front of him and nodded at his son. "Yep. Been tearin' up kids all over town, it looks like."
Dean rubbed his eyes and yawned. "And we're gonna handle this tomorrow, yeah?"
John shook his head, a weary expression on his face. "Gotta get started tonight. We'll have to head out in the morning, check out the hospital. Right now, I figure we go hit some local bars, diners, see if anyone's heard anything."
Dean nodded tiredly, not really having expected to be able to get any rest. They never did. "Alright. Let's go."
Outside the motel, John and Dean climbed into John's beloved '67 Chevy Impala and hit the road. The nearest diner was only five miles or so from where they were staying, so it didn't take long to get there, but the men made sure to blast Metallica for the short time that they were in the car.
When they pulled into the parking lot of the diner, Dean stepped out and was immediately stopped in his tracks by the sight of a tall, gorgeous young man walking out of a fancy looking restaurant called Coba across the street. He had shiny, brown hair, bangs swooping over his forehead, and he was dressed in tight clothing that showed off his obvious muscle. Tight, nice clothing. So nice that it was apparent he had enough money not to give someone like Dean the time of day. The woman walking beside him looked older than he was, maybe old enough to be his mother, but she was beautiful as well.
Dean sighed, averted his eyes from yet another sight he knew he'd never have, and made his way quickly to the diner door to hold it open for his father.
"What were you lookin' at?" John asked gruffly as the door swung shut behind them.
Dean shook his head. "Nothin'." Dean wasn't attracted to men. Not... really. He just had the ability to appreciate it when someone had nice qualities, and that ability wasn't restricted to women. Which, of course, he could never confess to his father. Because John would never understand something like that.
Once they were seated inside the diner, John ordered what must have been his fifth cup of black coffee for the night, and Dean got a bacon cheeseburger.
"How many kids so far?" Dean asked around the food in his mouth.
"Dunno," John answered. "Somewhere in the mid twenties, I think."
Dean nodded once, absently, and let his eyes wander to the counter, behind which a cute, petite brunette was standing. "Hey, sweetheart?" he drawled, kicking his usual charm up a notch.
She looked up and grinned with a slight blush, making her way to the Winchesters' table. And if she swayed her lips a little more than necessary, Dean pretended not to notice. "Can I help you?" she asked a bit shyly, worrying her lip between her teeth.
"Well, maybe. See, my younger brother got sick a couple days ago," Dean lied, sounding for all the world like he honest-to-god had a little brother to be concerned about. "He's been in the hospital, and the few times I've gone to visit him, it's seemed like more and more kids right around his age just keep pilin' in. We're not from around here, see. We're on vacation, actually, and I was just wonderin' if that kind of thing's common."
The girl's (Alicia, Dean read on her name tag) forehead creased, and she let out a small sigh. "Well, it isn't usually common, but it's definitely been happening quite a bit recently. I have a younger sister. She was admitted to the hospital a few days ago, too. She just got really weak all of a sudden, and..." Covering her mouth with one hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and placed her other hand on the table to ground herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment. "I'm sorry, it's just been really tough seeing her like this, you know?"
Dean placed his hand over the hers soothingly (not that he really cared past the point of needing information, comforting hot girls just tended to get him laid) and met her eyes. "No need to apologize, sweetheart."
She gave him a small, grateful smile. "So, uh, what's your brother's name?"
"Sammy," Dean answered, responding with the first name that popped into his head, just like he always did while working a case. Funny, he thought, that this time his immediate instinct hadn't been to use the name of one rock legend or another.
John went rigid.
Dean didn't notice.
Alicia's story was enough to confirm their shtriga theory, really. Her sister just mysteriously becoming weak and all. But they checked out a few more more places and asked around, just to be safe. And then Dean went back to the diner. And after Alicia's shift, Dean was right, comforting her did get him laid. But when he returned to the motel room later and climbed into bed, careful not to wake his father, the face he saw as soon as he closed his eyes didn't belong to his most recent one night stand. It was composed of much sharper features. In fact, Dean was damn near sure he'd seen them before. Maybe on a beautiful young man he'd happened to catch a glimpse of earlier that night. And if he happened to dream about that face from the second he drifted into unconsciousness to the moment he woke the next morning. Well. Who could really blame him?
