Rated: PG-13 (Language and possible Sexual Content)
Disclaimer: I own nothing herein written that is not original.
Feedback/Reviews/Comments: APPRECIATED!
Salem, Mass
Chapter 1
"Hey, check this out." The laptop's eerie glow reflected off Sam's intent face. Daylight was fading and the motel room had grown dim. Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder looking at the Salem News website.
"First, the local river rose and fell 10 feet in a day," read Sam. "There was no unusual tidal activity or rainfall to explain it. Then a pod of pilot whales washed ashore, dying before the next high tide could take them out to sea again."
"And last week," Sam continued, "an earth tremor measuring 5.1 on the Richter was felt across the Salem area. The largest of its magnitude in State recorded history. Again, experts are at a loss to explain the event as no continental plates are nearby."
"Weird," stated Dean.
"Yeah, really weird." Sam agreed.
oo00oo
"Welcome to Salem Massachusetts." Sam read the sign aloud as they drove past it.
Dean geared the Impala down, the engine rumbling as they coasted into the town limits.
"More than 20 people were executed during the 1692 Witch Trials," Sam read from the 'Salem Witch Museum' pamphlet he'd picked up at the gas station a few miles back.
"Most were hanged," he continued, "however some were 'pressed' to death."
"Oh dude," Dean half grimaced, half laughed. "What a way to go."
"I can think of worse," Sam morosely gazed out the passenger-side window at the quaint main street.
Dean smirked as they passed a few New Age mystical shops claiming to sell magical accessories. Pointy hats to go with your broom? Passing a 7-Eleven with a group of Goth teens huddled in front he muttered, "Witches these days."
"You got a thing against witches?" Sam smiled at his older brother.
"I got a thing against posers," Dean replied.
oo00oo
The bar was pretty crowded: a mix of regular small town folk and some strikingly tall black-clad Goths. Dean could just make out the neon beer signs on the far wall through the cigarette smoke. He thought he heard strains of Sabbath from the jukebox.
"My kind of place," he said mainly to himself.
"It's okay," commented Sam.
oo00oo
Lyra was playing pool with Mitch and his coven. She was losing but didn't care. Her focus had been lacking lately but even more so tonight after the two strangers had sat at the bar.
They were both tall and all-American looking but she sensed a definite darkness about them both. Deep sorrow emanated from the sweet-faced, dark-haired one. Perhaps some psychic abilities there as well, she thought.
Looking at them, she didn't think they were responsible for evil but that they had certainly had some close encounter with it. Interesting…
The one with the sandy-colored short hair had beautiful green eyes. Or were they brown? It was hard to tell in the bar's dim light. Strong chin and his lips were…wow. Really nice. Suddenly he looked her way and caught her checking him out. Flashing her a million-watt smile she averted her gaze embarrassingly quickly.
"Fuck," she muttered.
"You're up Lyr!" Mitch hollered over the heavy metal pounding out of the jukebox.
"Focus you twit," she chastised herself as she assessed the pool table. Seeing an easy bank shot she positioned herself over the cue ball and leaned forward over the table. Perhaps the black lace-up top and push-up bra weren't the best choice for playing pool tonight but she was still trying to suck up to creepy old Mitch and the rest of his wanna-be cronies. She became acutely aware of Green Eyes checking her out from the bar. God his eyes were intense.
She hit the white ball solidly with her cue stick but in turn it hit the 7-ball off the mark sending it spinning in the wrong trajectory totally missing the intended pocket. Swearing under her breath again she straightened up.
"What the fuck, Lyra?" Mitch was exasperated with her play tonight. Normally she was a lot better than this.
She shrugged laughing. "I don't know, man. Bad night I guess."
Her opponent, Vince, patted her on the shoulder as he passed by to take his turn.
"Well we do appreciate it Lyra. You're making it real easy tonight."
"She's distracted," piped up Summer perched on a barstool watching the pool game. Obnoxious git, thought Lyra, shooting her a glare. Summer tossed her head towards Green Eyes at the bar and Mitch followed her nod.
If I didn't need this stupid coven desperately, thought Lyra, I'd slap that smarmy grin off your fat mouth.
"You know those guys?" Mitch asked Lyra.
"No," she responded a little too keenly.
"You want to?"
"Nah." She tried to sound more casual. Seemingly focused on the pool game.
No good, she thought as Mitch sauntered over to the bar. Damn. At 6 foot, 3 inches Mitch was physically imposing. Broad-shouldered and mutton-faced, clad in jeans, motorcycle boots, black t-shirt and a knee-length black leather overcoat. Fucking bike-man of the Apocalypse, thought Lyra.
"Stan!" Mitch yelled to the barkeep busy at the other end of the bar. "Another round!"
Slapping cash down on the bar Mitch turned his attention to Sam sitting next to him.
"You new here?" he asked intrusively.
Sam sensed Dean tense up. Coiling for a fight. "Uh, yeah." Sam managed caught between the two alpha males.
Scanning Mitch for concealed weapons, Dean detected no ankle or shoulder holsters, maybe a knife in his pocket. Mitch leaned menacingly towards Sam. "Watch out for witches," he teased with a wicked grin revealing a couple gold teeth and a lifetime of poor dental hygiene.
Sam held his ground, not pulling back. Coolly a long slender pool cue entered the close space between Mitch's sinister maw and Sam's unresponsive face. Lyra slapped the cue stick to Mitch's chest. "Your turn," she informed him.
Looking annoyed but taking the cue and the hint, Mitch made his way back to the pool table. Lyra sidled up to the bar next to Sam. "Sorry about him."
"Salem welcome wagon?" Sam asked.
"Something like that."
The bartender placed four cold beers in front of Lyra. She handed over Mitch's money. Dean sprang at the opportunity thrusting his palm out in front of Sam's face.
"Hi, I'm Dean."
Lyra smiled genuinely. His charm was undeniable. She had a lovely mouth, thought Dean. White teeth against deep red full lips, when she smiled she revealed dimples in her velvety pale complexion. The first truly beautiful Goth he'd seen. Snow White, Rose Red he thought randomly.
"Lyra," shaking Dean's hand.
Sam opened his mouth to speak but Dean interjected, "This is my little brother Sam." Why did he have to use the word little? Sam thought, What the hell Dean?
"Lyra," Dean continued gaining momentum. "Italian?"
"Uh no. Spelt L-Y-R-A." Why didn't she just give him her phone number too? She wondered wildly.
"Like the constellation," said Sam giving Dean a superior look whose brows knitted trying to comprehend.
Lyra rewarded Sam's intellect with an appreciative smile. Dimples deepened. "Dad was an amateur astronomer," she explained.
"Oh yeah? Where would he stargaze?"
Dean didn't like the sudden hi-jack of his conversation with Lyra. What the hell, Sam? And did he just use the word stargaze?
"Those beers still cold!" Mitch yelled across the bar. God, why did he have to yell so fucking much. So annoying.
Grabbing the beers and smiling politely at both Winchester brothers she bid them a good evening and headed back to the pool table.
oo00oo
Dean zipped his fly and stepped away from the urinal. He could hear Mitch's obnoxious voice just inside the men's room doorway.
"Most powerful fucking coven on the eastern seaboard!" Mitch was boasting to a large, hairy biker dude. "Hell, maybe even the whole continent."
Mitch's tone dropped to a hoarse whisper but Dean could hear him clearly over the running water of the sink as he rinsed his hands. "Shit, did you feel that tremor last week?"
Dean's hands froze beneath the stream of the tap. This guy was actually taking credit for an earth tremor?
As Mitch and his friend staggered away from the bathroom, Dean returned to the bar to find Sam.