"Come on man," Dean complained. "You've got to have something, anything else!" I dropped my bag at the bottom of the staircase and walked into Bobby's kitchen. Bobby was sitting at the table; Sam was leaning against the counter and Dean was pacing back and forth through the room. "You sure you have nothing else capable of making a 5 hour trip? That's practically a milk run!" Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. I walk over next to Sam, lean over and whisper, "What's wrong?" "Bobby's limited on running vehicles. Only thing he has available is a minivan. Dean's not too keen on that idea," Sam answered me. "Yeah, I can't imagine Dean driving something like that," I chuckled. "Well, imagine it sweetheart," Dean said as he grabbed a set of keys off the table. The grimace on his face caused Sam and I to laugh.
The trip to Harvelle's Roadhouse was THE longest trip I have ever taken. And I've traveled from the east coast to the west coast! The minivan is beat up and has been poorly maintained. The interior is stained, the fabric on the ceiling is ripped and peeling, the carpet in the floorboards is gone, the air conditioning doesn't work, forcing us to roll down the windows, which in turn causes the loose ceiling fabric to flop in the wind. The tape deck doesn't work and the AM/FM radio picks up nothing but static almost the whole way there. It. Is. as we pulled up to the two story wooden building, Dean continued to complain about the ride. I knew he missed his car, burgers come on already! We all missed the Impala with her comfy, butter-soft leather seats, her shocks that absorbed the rough uneven highways and the gentle purr of her engine sans the whining that the van had. Sam and I both roll our eyes and sigh when Dean cut the engine. "This is humiliating," he grumbles, opening the door and getting out. "I feel like a fucking soccer mom." I couldn't help but giggle.
"You know it's the only car Bobby had running," Sam repeats for the umpteenth time. "What are you laughing about giggles?" Dean looks over at me as Sam walks toward the side of the building. "Hello? Anybody here?" "Nothing," I say with a smile on my lips. "Just imagine not many soccer moms wear flannels and jackets." Dean smirks at me and playfully answers, "Oh, shut up." as he pushes against my shoulder. We walk up to the door of the Road house and I notice the signage on the window says they are closed. "Hey," Dean looks toward Sam. "Did you bring the, uh..."
"Of course," Sam answers and tosses his lock pick set to his brother. Dean catches it and within 60 seconds we open the door and walk inside. The saloon is empty and quiet, save for a fly or two buzzing; a light bulb to our left flickers and goes out, causing a few harmless sparks. As we walk through the bar, our boots echo off the wooden floor. Sam strolls toward the back of the room, where a man is passed out on a pool table. "Hey buddy." The guy doesn't move. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen." Sam heads off toward a door to the right as Dean and I begin backtracking into the main area. I notice that Dean suddenly stills and we hear a gun being cocked. "Oh god, please let that be a rifle." "No, I'm just real happy to see you," a female voice speaks. "Don't move."
"Not moving, copy that." Dean says, glancing toward me. I slowly nod, telling him I'm not moving either. "You know, you should know something, miss," Dean speaks trying to distract the female. "When you put a rifle on someone, you don't put it right up against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do," Dean swiftly and fluidly turns around and grabs the gun, disabling it. "That." The young blonde punches Dean in the nose and takes back the rifle. I turn as Dean doubles over, clutching his nose and snarl at her. Who the hell does she think she is? She looks at me and back at Dean, who has righted himself, but is still holding his nose.
"Call off your attack dog, will ya?" she demands, staring at me. Who the hell is she calling a dog? That just pisses me off more. I lunge for her, but Dean quickly grabs my shoulders. I look at our wannabe captor. She is an attractive petite thing so I know I could take her with no problem, but I also realize I could easily kill her if I don't keep control. "Sam, need some help in here!" Dean yelled holding me back. I know he can probably feel the power radiating from me even though I haven't let it take complete hold of me yet. "Calm down, Nic," he whispers in my ear.
"Sorry, Dean," Sam answers, slowly entering the same door he left through. "Can't right now." His hands are on his head. "I'm a...little tied up." Nodding his head, I notice an older woman behind him with a handgun pointed at his head. "Sam? Dean? Winchester?" she asks. Both boys respond, confused, "Yeah."
"Mom, you know these guys?" pretty young thing beside me asks. "Yea, I think these are John Winchester's boys." she says, lowering her gun. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter Jo your friend there is glaring at." Jo stares at me and I stare back. "Hey." she says nonchalantly, looking back and forth between me and Dean. "You gonna hit him again?" I ask, trying to lose some of the venom in my voice.
Ellen hands Dean a small towel filled with ice. "Who's your friend?" she inquires nodding toward me standing a few feet away."Nicole, a family friend," Dean simply says. I wait, hoping for him to further justify my presence, but am met with silence. After a couple of minutes, I turn and go sit at a table across the room. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but I only came on this trip to be with Dean. I thought maybe he felt a little something for me, but apparently I'm just a friend.
I watch as Sam and Dean discuss their father with the two women. Jo is reclined with her elbows on the bar, eyes intently focused on Dean. I lean back in my chair, cross my arms and look out the window. I definitely don't want to see her eye-fucking the man I'm in love with. "Ash!" Ellen yells, catching my attention. The man passed out on the pool table jerks and looks over his shoulder. "What? Closing time?"
"That's Ash?" Sam asks, surprised. "Mm-hmm. He's a genius." Jo answers with a smirk. I watch Ash join the group at the end of the bar and a few minutes later Sam walks outside, only to return with a brown leather binder. Ellen walks over to the table I'm sitting at with an empty glass and a pitcher of water. Sitting the glass on the table, she fills it. "Here ya go, sweetie."
"Thanks," I say, smiling up at her. As I take a drink of the cold beverage I hear Ash say, "Business up front, party in the back" walking out of the room. I laugh, spewing out the water in my mouth. Sam, Dean, and Jo look over at me and I shrug my shoulders. Jo picks up a rag and sauntered over to wipe the table down. She eyes me like she doesn't trust me and I force a grin on my lips and take another sip. Dean walks over and sits in a chair across from me. Jo looks at him and smiles. "So, how'd your mom get into this stuff anyway?" he asks her. "My dad. He was a hunter. He passed away." "I'm sorry," Dean says, looking over at me. I speak up, "Sorry" but it goes ignored. "It was a long time ago. I was just a kid. Sorry to hear about your dad."
"Yea," Dean says, looking down at the table and then back up to her. "Guess this is an official meeting of the 'Dead Dads Club'." He flashes his eyes towards me and I just grin. Jo, continuing to pretend I'm not there, leans over towards Dean. "So, sounds like you got time to kill. Maybe tonight we could get pizza, a six pack and side one of Zeppelin IV." I await Dean's response. I want to know how he's going to react to such a cheap pickup line. "Wrong place, wrong time sweetheart." Well at least he shot her down but still it would be nice to be acknowledged. "Dean, come here. Check this out," Sam calls to him.
The older Winchester walks over to see a folder and papers laid out. "Hey, Nic, come look," Dean says over his shoulder. I walk up and pick the now empty folder up. It has minute details of the case written on the front in red marker.
COUPLE MURDERED
CHILD LEFT ALIVE
MEDFORD WISC.
"I told her we'd check it out," Sam explains. Reading over the information, Dean remarks, "You got to be kidding me, a killer clown?" "Yea. Left the daughter unharmed, but killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces actually." As I listen to them and scan over the case, I begin to feel my blood run cold. I read aloud, "Family was at some carnival that night. The, um, Cooper Carnival." I do not want to deal with carnivals. My experience with carnivals is not a nice one. I try to avoid them at all costs. I can feel the bile climbing my throat so I look away. "So how do we know it's not some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean asks. I can't take any more. My breakfast is going to make a reappearance so I slap a hand over my mouth and run out the door.
Outside, at the back of the minivan, I loose it. Everything in my stomach is on the ground and I can feel tears pricking my eyelids. I steady myself by putting a hand on the dusty bumper. The guys come up behind me. "Nicole, you okay?" Sam asks, laying a hand on my back. Wiping my mouth with the bottom of my shirt, I tell him I'm fine. I slowly walk around to the side of the vehicle, sliding the door open. Sitting down, I look at both Sam and Dean who are crowding the opening, looking genuinely concerned. "Sorry guys. I'm okay. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to sit this one out." Dean looks at me and his eyes get wide. "You scared of clowns too? Sammy here is terrified of them," he says, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Sam throws a classic bitch face to his brother. I look up at them and say, "No, just psycho carnies in a clown suit who get off on kidnapping and raping a 9 year old little girl then leave me for dead."
