CHAPTER TWO
Crystal sorted quickly through the boxes of clothing she was saving for St. Anthony's annual rummage sale, and came up with a few pairs of jeans and shirts that might work for her two fugitives.
Well. Dean, at least.
But HOLY FREAKING HELL (what was his name?) was so tall.She wasn't sure any of these would work for him. She shook herself. Screw it. Didn't matter. They were just going to wear them long enough to get where they were going.
Which was exactly where?
You know, maybe they needed a lift. And HFH looked like he might need a doctor. Maybe she could help, maybe . . .
Chill, woman. Crystal took a breath. Get a grip. Like you'd stand a chance with either of them.
Besides, they're probably gay.
She let that statement stand for a heartbeat, then laughed out loud. Yeah, right.
Giggling, she grabbed up the clothing, a few pair of shoes and some medical supplies from the hall cabinet and headed back down. Best to just get these two hotties what they needed, get them out of here and then take herself home and to bed.
Halfway down the stairs, there was a loud rap on the front door. Startled, Crystal lost her grip and dropped her armload all over the stairs.
Cops!
Crap!
Stomach tight, Crystal left the mess where it lay and went reluctantly to the front door, another bang on the door as she reached it making her jump.
"We're closed!" she called through the door, her voice quavering a little.
"Crystal?"
Oh no. "Mr. Watt?"
"Yes. Open the door!"
Crystal heard something behind her and turned. Her jaw dropped.
Dean looked at her, puzzled, then glanced down at himself, sighed, and adjusted his towel.
Crystal started breathing again. "It's my boss!" she hissed.
Dean looked at the door. "Does he usually come here this late?"
She shook her head vigorously. "Never."
"Huh." Dean gave her an odd smile. "Guess you better let him in."
"Crystal, open this door! It's freezing out here and I forgot my key!"
"Just a minute!"
Scowling at Dean, who for some insane reason was still here instead of running for the back, Crystal jerked her head impatiently toward the back room. Go on! she mouthed silently.
He grinned and chucked her playfully under the chin. "Hang in there, slugger," he whispered.
Surprised into an answering grin, Crystal watched him disappear into the rear until another shout from outside roused her. She pretended to fumble with the lock. "Just a minute," she called out. "The deadbolt's stuck!"
When Crystal "finally" got the door open, Mr. Watt strode angrily inside. "About damned time!" He looked around the empty bar with suspicious, beady eyes. "Did I hear you talking to someone?"
Crystal widened her eyes innocently. "No, Mr. Watt. I closed up at 2am, like always."
"Then why are you still here?"
"A drunk threw up all over the men's room," she improvised swiftly. "It took me a while to clean up."
Mr. Watt saw the pile of clothing strewn along the stairs. "What's that?"
"Oh, um, just some clothes I'm boxing up for St. Christopher's." Out of the corner of her eye, Crystal saw the door to the back room open slightly. "I was on the stairs when you knocked. I dropped them."
He picked up a roll of bandages from the floor and raised an eyebrow.
Crystal's stomach dropped. "Oh, I, uh, like to keep a roll behind the bar, in case of emergencies."
"Hmmph." The older man studied her.
"Mr. Watt, do you need something?" she asked nervously. "You're not usually here this late."
"Couldn't sleep." His gaze flicked to the back of the bar. "I've been thinking I need to replace that stove soon," he said slowly. "It's getting pretty old. Think I'll measure that space now, since I'm here." He started around the bar.
"Can't that wait until tomorrow?" Crystal hurried after him. "I was going to lock up and go home."
"Then go," he said dismissively. "I'll lock up when I'm done."
"Mr. Watt, wait -!"
Mr. Watt reached the door and shoved it open. "Ah ha!" With a howl, he jumped through the doorway and grabbed Dean, going for his throat.
"Get off me, you fugly bastard!" Dean threw a punch which knocked the older man's head back but Mr. Watt just growled, grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the wall, striking his head hard and knocking him to the floor, unconscious.
His towel was nowhere in sight.
Ignoring Crystal's horrified shriek, her boss kicked Dean in the ribs, then spun and, giving her a mocking grin, stalked past her to the cot on which lay the prone, unconscious body (whoa, LEGS!) of HFH.
Mr. Watt had a very nasty grin on his face. "Sam Winchester," he boomed. "As I live and breathe!"
He glanced over his shoulder at Crystal. "You've been a very bad girl. You stay right there till I'm finished. We're going to have a nice, long talk."
He chuckled, voice dropping to a deep, bass growl, leaned over the unconscious man and wrapped his hands around his throat. "Finally." Teeth bared, he started to squeeze.
Frozen with horror, Crystal saw that Dean was starting to stir on the floor, but he was slow and groggy. No way would he be quick enough to save HFH – damn it, Sam.
The unconscious man's face was starting to redden. Suddenly his eyes flew open. His hands struck weakly at his would-be murderer's hands, weak gasps escaping his bluing lips.
Mr. Watt just kept squeezing, his eerie chuckling a chilling counterpoint to the madness of the scene.
Crystal stared frantically from Dean to Sam to Mr. Watt's evil sneer.
Fuck it!
Mr. Crazy Ass didn't hear her coming. He was too absorbed in choking the life out of a helpless man.
A very helpless, very hot man.
"Mr. Watt!" Crystal said loudly.
Sighing, her boss started to turn around. "I told you to wait –"
Crystal smashed him in the face with a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Twice.
With a cry of pain and surprise, Mr. Watt fell to the floor. Mouth working angrily, he glared up at her. "Bitch!" He reached out and grabbed at her legs, snarling, trying to pull himself up.
With a repulsed cry, Crystal raised the bottle again and smashed it down on his head – once, twice, three times – the bottle finally giving up the ghost and shattering into a thousand pieces.
With a groan, Mr. Watt collapsed, blood flowing down his face.
Horror struck, Crystal dropped the bottle. Eyes glued to her victim, she stumbled back and fetched up against Dean, off the floor but still wobbly.
And still no towel.
No time for that.
"Dean!" she gasped, suddenly remembering why she'd assaulted her dickhead boss. "Your brother - Mr. Watt was choking him!"
Dean stiffened and went quickly, if a little shakily, to Sam. She heard him murmuring softly, soothingly to the injured man. Heard the rasping reply.
Valiantly, Crystal kept her eyes off Naked and Nearly Naked and firmly on Mr. Almost Definitely Dead. She felt suddenly very tired.
"I am so freaking fired!"