A/N (Hey guys! The second chapter is up and we hope you enjoy it!)
Exhausted, Sophia curled into her jacket and walked to the only vehicle left in the parking lot. Her 1990 chevy truck sat on it's low wheels, covered in dings, rust, and filth. She loved this truck. Held so many memories of her and her brother. He wouldn't have stood for the dings and gathering rust, but since that day, Sophia hadn't had the heart to do anymore body work. Her brother had never let anyone touch the once glossy coat of cherry red. And the state it was in now disheartened her. She ran her hand down the stripe of pale cream that ran the length of the truck before pulling herself up into the cab and starting the engine. It started without a single sputter. She did the engine work, he did the body work, and, to be honest, Sophia still held the vain hope that her brother would show up one day and throw a fit at the shape of his baby. She smirked. Dean really was a lot like her brother. It made her smile, a sad little twitch of her lips before she pressed the clutch and drove from the parking lot, her thumb brushing over the ball of the gear shift that, impressed in the leather, held a demon protection sigil.
It took four minutes down the main road, and nineteen down the winding dirt road meeting her driveway. The sight of her small house bringing a small, sad smile to her lips. She killed the engine, knocking the stubborn door closed with her hip, the crash of the metal closing seeming to bring her to a pause. Gazing onto her property with a smile, Sophia had one thought rolling through her mind. While this place looked run down and showed sure signs of age, there was one thing stitched into every fiber of wood within those walls. And that word was home.
There was a sweet smell to the air. The smell of oil from working on the old farm truck. The smell of dirt and mud. The smell of rotting leaves that had gathered from seasons passed. This place echoed in the silence of nature which, in of itself was never quiet.
She took a despondent step forward when she didn't see the screen door swing open before setting her shoulders and stepping towards the porch. If you looked carefully on the porch, you'd find the railings to have the finest thread of silver etched into the iron bars. There were flower pots filled with medicinal herbs and charms alongside the simple daisies and rose bushes. The peeling white paint raised to show the splintering boards beneath which juxtaposed harshly against the well maintained swing that hung at the end of the porch. If you were looking for the signs, you would be able to spot the large hunting knife that was patched onto the bottom of the swing and you may even realize that the gun hanging on the wall was not just a prop.
As Sophia walks up the groaning steps of her home, she fidgets with the keys in her pocket, pulling the screen door open and bracing against it as she jammed the key into the lock, letting a few foul words spill in anger when it refused to give. It had a tendency to get finicky just when she was ready for bed. As if it were agitated to be woken in the middle of the night… if locks slept… and if she wasn't so sleep deprived that a sleeping lock seemed to be a normal thing… Sophia rolled her eyes at the lost train of thought and pushed inside her home with a little more force than necessary, pulling her coat off and hanging it quickly on the rack after closing the door.
She flicks on the lights, illuminating her small living room. "Home sweet home." She muttered her words in half sarcasm, half relief as she tossed her keys with a practiced motion into the bowl by the door. With a sigh, she turns the iron and silver locks with ease, checking the saltline out of habit. Sometimes Sophia wondered if just maybe her obsession with those three supernatural repellants was a little over the top, but all she had to do to press those thoughts from her mind was remember how many times it had saved her life. She may be obsessive, but not crazy.
Two steps towards the couch and Sophia paused, her whole face screwing up into an expression of absolute disgust and mild wariness. "Please don't let that rank be me…" She groans as the smell wafts up from her own clothes, "gross!" Slightly disgusted and completely irritated, Sophia walks towards her room, passing the large bookshelf filled with titles of "Mythology" and "Lore" and a large china cabinet that held some of her most prized possessions… bullets and knives, many etched with demon symbols or blessed by wiccans, priests, or good old angles, and guns, ranging from her favorite shotgun to an AK 47.
She walks over the stained carpet - Sophia had debated moving to hardwood floors multiple times, but knew she would have to do the install herself due to the fact that the entire floor beneath the carpet was a patchwork of demon traps. She didn't want to deal with all the raised eyebrows. - towards the master bedroom. It still felt odd to enter into the room without knocking. The feeling would take a long time to fade, if it ever did.
Sophia wandered towards the stack of clean, unfolded clothes resting in a rather large mound on the hickory wood chest at the base of her bed. The large windows let in just enough moonlight that she didn't have to switch on the light as she tugged free a spaghetti strap tank top and soft shorts from the left of the pile. Just because no one could see the system didn't mean it didn't exist. Sophie smiled at the thought, pulling past the double bed and into the small master bath for a much needed and well deserved shower.
Despite the fact that the near scalding water felt like heaven, Sophia kept it quick, pulling on her sleepwear and practically dragging herself to the cool blue bedspread, not even worrying to pull the covers over herself. She felt safe with the three demon traps etched into the floors and the salt lines hidden in the groves above the windows and doors. And with the softest sigh of exhaustion, Sophia felt herself drift into a dreamless sleep in a manner much quicker than usual.
While Sophia would deny it to this day, she woke with a rather loud, rather unladylike - not that she really cared, but still - snort. She had forgotten to draw the curtains on the large windows in her room and immediately came to regret that decision, her eyes scrunching up in a mix of agitation and pain. When the blankets refused to come out from under her in her scramble to cover her face, Sophia gave up, searching for her phone which she had never in her 21 and a half years of life ever managed to put on the nightstand. And while it was obvious it would be easier to find the small square of metal, glass, and plastic in the morning if she had put it on the stand, she just never managed to.
With bleary eyes, Sophia came to realize that the digital clock said it was nearing seven o'clock. That, however, wasn't what had her groaning in agitation and rolling to a sitting position, the palm of her left hand rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Seriously? I can't sleep in for one day without 16 missed calls and 20 messages. 20 messages? Really?" She growled. "Angila?! I swear! That girl has no common sense!" Angela had worked for Sophia now for three weeks. And she still couldn't figure out how to run the coffee machine. The coffee machine. It wasn't rocket science! She was sure to send Jared anytime Angila worked. They sort of balanced each other out… usually.
Sophia rolled her eyes, the memory of burning coffee and eggs filling her mind. Honestly, how helpless could one be unable to work a coffee machine after three weeks? With a sigh, Sophia pulled herself to her full height, her back cracking and popping in agitation as it called for her to sleep and let the aches and pains leave more fully. Instead of listening to the urge to crash back into the warmth of the blankets, Sophia reaches for the pile of clothes at the end of the bed and tugging on a random t-shirt and jeans. She debated calling Angila, but quickly backtracked at the thought of hearing the young woman melt down once again over something that truly wasn't that big of an issue. She sent a quick message to Jared, warning him that it would be around thirty minutes before he would have backup, as she snatched up the duffle by the door.
When she had to deal with idjits like Angila early in the mornings on her day off, taking her duffle was a good, surefire way to ensure that maybe, just maybe, she could kill something instead of someone. She tossed it gently across the cab of the truck and shut her door, staring up at the lightening sky and taking deep breaths before starting the engine of her truck and tossing it into gear, taking her sweet time in driving towards her diner.
Sophia was a strong woman. To her, there was no doubt about that. But when it came to plain ol' stupidity Sophia tended to lose it just a tad. When her workers came in and left a mess behind, or when Angila - don't get her wrong, Sophia knew Angila was a well meaning girl. She had been given the job when her momma had fallen ill. Angila tried… but sometimes she just made decisions that simply did not make sense - lost her head two hours into a shift, Sophia tended to lose that calm, near southern belle charm and, instead, got hot headed and agitated easily. So when it came to days like today, a good hunt was much needed and well deserved.
About two miles from the diner, Sophia began to relax. She chortled slightly, "Well, I don't see any smoke…"
She pulled behind the building slowly, parking in her spot at the back of the diner and waltzing into it as if she owned it, which she did. The kitchen seemed in order, thank heavens, but the look up utter desperation written on Jared's face made her pause warily.
His hands were full as he looked to be both serving and cooking. Sophia quirked an eyebrow in mild humor. "Sophie! Boss! Um, ah, Angila… She's having issues with the coffee pot, but I've been so slammed back here. She's been crying all morning!"
Sophia took the deepest, most calming breath she could muster. How could someone be so… so… blonde? And that was coming from a blonde! Angila was the reason her hair color was demeaned as… Sophia cut the thought process down before she began to see red. "Take a smoke break, Jared. You could use a moment. I'll get these orders out and have a little chat with the kid." Sophia grimaces slightly. She never did well with tears, but… "I'll handle it."
Jared, the intelligent man he was, didn't give her a moment to think about taking back her words as he shoved the plates into her hands with fervor and tossed open the back doors, grumbling the whole way. Sophia bit back a small grin at that before sighing and making her way to the bar. The place was near empty with her three early morning regulars. She didn't need told whose plate was whose. She simple passed them the plates and told them, with an apologetic tone, that she would have their coffee right out to them. Breakfast, for the twelth time in three weeks was on the house. She made enough from the lunch crowd anyhow.
With as calm a tone as she could muster, Sophia called, "Angila, sweetie, come here a sec." Angila was struggling to clear a table, her shoulders shaking slightly. It took everything in Sophia not to put the fear of God and everything else holy into this little girl right now for her behavior. Another deep breath.
Angila stumbled towards her boss, nearly dropping the dishes she had gathered, her eyes wide and teary. "Oh, Sophia! Thank goodness you're here!" She rushes forward, tossing the bussing tray onto the bar and wrapping her skinny arms around her boss. She was hiccuping sobs. "I.. just… can't get… the coffee... machine… to work!"
Why was it that Angila believed she could simply hug Sophia every time she saw her!? Again, Sophia took a deep breath, gently pulling away. "Angila, darlin'… what's wrong with the coffee?"
A silent mantra played in Sophia's head. Don't make her cry. Don't make her cry. Don't make the poor girl cry! She answered with a shaky voice. "The coffee is all gritty! And I know I washed the pot!"
"Did you use filters?"
Her wide, dull grey eyes went wide. "What…? Filters?"
Don't make her cry.
"Yes, Angila. This pot uses coffee filters."
The tears began to spill over her cheeks and Sophia felt the urge to run. "Oh. My. Heavens! I can't believe! Miss Sophia I'm so sorry! I always forget and then I just…. I'm so sorry!"
Sophia internally groaned. Now you've done it, Sophia. Good going. "Don't worry, Angila. Just make a new pot right quick and make sure everything is in tip top shape. I needed to come in anyhow before I left out." Not that the plan to leave even occurred to her before she found 16 missed calls, but that was beside the point. Either way Sophia needed to write out the checks for the past week of work and leave them with Jared. Pay day was today. It was a good excuse to check in on the diner every day and make sure that the traps and saltlines were still in place.
Angila finally let go, hefting the bussing trey and asking with wide eyes, "You're going hunting again?"
The excited tone in Angila's voice made Sophia smirk. All of her employees had it in their heads that when Sophia took off to hunt out of season that she went to some other country. She never came into work empty handed, but more to the point, she did everything legally. She only called her supernatural hunting trips hunting during deer, turkey, duck or some other time of meat-in-seasons. Otherwise she kept up the facade that she was visiting some uncle off across the world. Today though, it was time to hunt both the creatures of darkness and the critters that made this wonderful world go 'round.
Sophia nodded and moved past the young woman who seemed too much like a girl. There were checks to write while she was gone for the few employees she had. As she walked past the kitchen, Sophia took note of the strong smell of cigarette smoke that clung to her cook.
Jared glanced up and it was obvious that he had been in for a moment, eavesdropping when he asked, "How long are you gonna be gone this time?"
That paused her. Usually Jared knew the drill. "Until I get something. Like always…" Sophia felt a splash of suspicion before shaking the thought away and saying, "Anyway, I've got a few errands to run in town before leaving after I write out your checks. So if anything comes up, give me a call, alright?"
Sophia thought of the dwindling number of bullets she had left in her duffle of everything-under-the-sun. She needed the regular sort for the regular hunting trip she was going to be taking soon. She did all her own specialty bullets herself, too paranoid to have anyone pack in the appropriate amounts and materials.
The cluttered mess of a desk in the back room was, to her, rather easy to search through. She found the checks with ease, writing them out and putting them in the lock box. Jared knew the code and she trusted him to give the appropriate checks to the appropriate people.
Without truly checking the troughs above the doors, Sophia filled them with salt, though to anyone else it would look as though she was dusting before she left for her last minute hunting trip. She tossed a quick goodbye over her shoulder, and smiled softly at the chorus of "Goodbye!" "Stay safe!" and "Bring back the grub, Sophia!"
The diner would always hold a special place in her heart and, as such, deserve her protection. Sophia could feel the excitement and adrenaline pooling through her veins just at the thought of getting away from home and getting out that pent up energy in the best way possible. Saving lives and killing the things that take them.
To say town may be a bit of an exaggeration when it came to the five shops clustered together in the center of Twin Brooks. But as it was, there was very little that you couldn't get from the small shops. One was owned by a farmer who sold his too ripe fruit and veggies at a stand between the Gas Station/Grocery Store, and the "Boots, Guns, and Glory," which carried everything from flannel shirts and jeans to muck boots and bullets. There were a couple of others, one being an auction junction and the final store was filled with farming equipment. All in all, to survive, you didn't really need to leave the town. Sophia's diner filled up the locals on days the families didn't want to cook or, if you were like the sheriff, you simply had enough with cooking your own dinners.
The roar of the engine of her chevy cut off after she pulled into the parking lot of "Boots Guns and Glory." To be honest, this little treasure trove was like honey to the starving man. It was honest trade and, all in all, a good way to socialize with stubborn old geezers who reminded her too much of her adopted dad.
A single bell rang sharply as Sophia entered, giving a quick shout out of, "G'mornin' Jarry, ya old coot!"
The elderly man, with thinning white hair and a grey beard gave a sharp, slightly sarcastic gasp. "Why, you little hooligan. What do you want from me this time? Can't you see? I ain't got much hair left for you to take!"
With that, Sophia felt her smile soften as she leaned across the counter and pulled the older man into a hug. "It's good to see you, Jarry."
Jarry hugged back, patting her back lightly, seeming slightly uncomfortable, but resigned to the fact that he was going to be hugged by this stubborn woman. "How are ya Soph?"
At that, Sophia couldn't contain the exhausted sigh that pulled from her chest. "It's been a morning."
Jarry grinned, showing off his teeth, which were very little after so long a life. "Lil' Angie havin' one o' those mornin's?"
His chuckle was met with an eye roll. "She's a good kid. Don't get me wrong, but… she didn't use coffee filters!" She was quickly falling to anger and decided to change the subject rather abruptly. "So. You got in anything new?"
Jarry's eyes lit up with that child-like excitement, the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes pulling upwards. "Depends on what you mean by new!" The man bent down to latch hold of something beneath the counter, his eyes alight with wonder. "I've been saving this for you. Hopin' you'd come by before Sheriff caught wind of me havin' it without a permit. It came in earlier this morning. 'Round five." With a grunt, Jarry heaved a large hunk of wood, metal, and glory onto the table.
Sophia felt herself pause, as if her heart skipped a beat and her breath refused to move. She could barely whisper as she stared in awe at the Tommy Gun resting on the glass topped table. "Is that… what I think it is?"
"Ain't she a beauty?" Jarry was grinning ear to ear, his hand hovering over the butt of the gun.
Sophia could feel herself glowing in awe at the sheer beauty of the gun of mobsters and mayhem… "She really is." What that would do for her. Sophia was practically drooling when she asked, softly, "How much? What do you want for her?"
Jarry gave her one of those knowing looks, his belly jiggling with soft laughter. "I got it for you, Soph. I know you got a permit for every gun under the sun… and technically it's illegal for me to sell it to you. So how about you have your cook whip me and my wife up some dinner, and we call it even, yeah?"
Sophia would have rolled her eyes at the man's antics if not for the fact that she was stunned by the beautiful piece of machinery being offered to her at next to nothing. "Are you… sure?"
Jarry didn't even pause before he turned, grabbing a random ribbon from beside the register - it, like all the other ribbons and bows, sat in that exact place all year long for special occasions and holidays - and stuck it haphazardly to the wood of the gun.
Sophia needed no more persuasion. "What do ya have a hankerin' for, Jarry?"
The broken toothed man grinned wider, and said, "I want ya to bring us some of that ol' deer meat n' some mashed potatoes." he took a moment to think, his eyes just above her left shoulder as if he were teasing Sophia. "Oh, and some of your pie."
Sophia offered her hand, a little breathless from the whole ordeal. "Deal. I'll… I'll have Angila bring it to you around, say, 6?"
The older man nodded, "Go on! Take her for a spin!" In a secretive, shaky tone, he whispered, "Let me know what you think of it!"
Sophia lifts the beautiful piece of machinery into her arms, offering a large grin to the man she considered a close friend. "Indeed I will, Jarry! Do you have the ammo I ordered?"
He nodded and they exchanged money for ammo, Sophia giving the man a gentle goodbye, her grin wide.
He called out behind her, "Bye, Soph! Keep out of trouble!"
As she was loading the truck, her phone let out a shrill call, breaking her from her thoughts of hunting. Her eyes flashed in exasperation at the sight of Angila's number on her phone. She internally debated ignoring the call before sighing and flipping it open. She may have sounded a tad too harsh when she answered, "Yes?"
Angila's voice crackled to life across the phone line, "Hey, Sophia… Um…" Something sounded odd about her voice and Sophia felt her hackles raise in confusion and in a protective instinct. "The, uh, the cash register is stuck again… and I'm sorry to bother you, but… I don't want to break it…"
Sophia ran a hand down her face, taking a deep breath when she heard sniffling from the other end of the line. "Have you had Jared take a look at it?"
Angila paused for a moment before she said softly, "He isn't sure either."
Sophia sighed, pulling herself up into the truck. The clock on the dash said it was barely noon. "Okay. I'll be there in 10. Just… Just hold it together Angila, alright? It isn't the end of the world."
Sophia sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before pausing. The phone just clicked off. No goodbye, no apology... Something was going on. Angila was usually more apologetic… She tended to run on and on about how she hates giving issues… and yet, she just went and… hung up? Sophia shook her head, starting the engine with a roar and pulling out from the store, her instincts screaming. Sophia had learned a long time ago never to question the simple tug of instinct at the base of her belly.